That Time I Wore Pink Leggings In The Pyranees

It's funny. You forget that even in the midst of the extraordinary, the ordinary must go on. In my brief visit of Bagnères-du-Luchon my personal life shifted in multiple ways. I was full hearted then broken hearted and back again so many times that I'm surprised my heart is still beating. But I'm fine. We don't dwell on that now. Let's talk about pink leggings.

These are my pink leggings. They are the most expensive pair of bottoms that I own. They're from Adidas and cost a cool €70. I bought them to impress a boy a couple of years ago. Admittedly, it only kinda worked. It was a good investment though. These leggings are indeed fabulous.

So to me, it made perfect sense that on my first solo date on this trip I would wear coordinating pink leggings and bright pink jumper. The foolish part is, I chose to have my first solo date on the top of a Pyranees mountain.

Bagnères-de-Luchon is one of the smaller towns on the Pyranees mountain range. Pau, Biarritz, Perpignan are far better known. But you know me - I like the niche choice. Just 30 minutes from the Spanish border, it's thrilling how utterly French this town is.

My first experience with a Luchon local was in the charcuterie - the only store open on a Sunday. The pungent stench of ripe cheese and cured meats singed my nostrils on impact. The man behind the counter chirped a bubbly "bonjour" to me, in between his zealous bites of a wedge of cheese. His wife came to my aid and asked what I'd like. This is where is dawned on me how poor my French has gotten. Luckily she was able to decipher my needs and recommended a great cheese. So great, in fact, I bought more on my final day to take with me on my travels.

I found the village to be quaint and the villagers to be joyful. (The two ladies in the photo were part of a trio who were walking around town on the same afternoon as me. We kept bumping into each other and we would chuckle each time. They called me their young friend.)

Despite my attempts at French, everyone was very patient with me, making strides to help me with the language and completing my sentences. I ate at (will insert the restaurant name here when I find it) and enjoyed it as always.

Fresh orange juice

Tartiflette with Pyranees cheese (it's similar to Dauphinoise potatoes)

Crepe with sugar

Green tea

€29.40

I was completely charmed. So much so, I could've explored the one street town for all three days. Alas, I had a mountain to climb.

Pique d'Aspe is a ski resort. I had never been to a ski resort before but when I pictured it, I imagined wood chalets in the snow with open hearths burning with pine logs. Everyone would get a pair of slippers upon entry and a free hot chocolate with toasted marshmallows and whipped cream.

Fully believing my delusion, I took the treacherous road to the peak, in my coordinating pink outfit and fresh flirty makeup ready for my resort experience.

It seems that I may have misunderstood the meaning of "resort" in "ski resort"...

I crunched across the sooty car park and felt the blasting chill on my knees. Skiiers and snowboarders smiled at my foolishness and waved with neighbourly delight. At least I'm quite confident when I know I won't see any of those people again.

I waddled to the bar. From the outside, it's a stately grey stone castle that towers on the mountain in the most majestic way. Inside, it's a community theatre. Honestly. There's a stage and painted walls indicating am-dram productions. The bar was small but the room was packed. Sunburnt faces and blue swollen hands abound.

I sat at the bar and ordered a hot chocolate. Not quite the extravaganza I was hoping for but still hit the spot. The barman attempted to talk to me as he tore mint leaves. I attempted to speak back, but ultimately the language difference was too strained and too awkward to make any headway with our conversation. That and the bar men were all wearing onesies of different cartoon characters, so it was a little distracting.

Suffice to say, my first solo date didn't quite pan out as I had hoped, but it was still perfect to me. As someone who is terrified of heights, I drove up that mountain, traversing its curves with bravery and excitement. I put on makeup for myself and put effort into what I was wearing. And although the pipe dream of a wood burning fire was a bit far fetched, I had a good time sipping my hot chocolate at the bar and conversing in my broken French.

Bagnères-de-Luchon was my first reintroduction to France. I leapt into the deep end by choosing a small village instead of one of the more populous tourist destinations. But sometimes it's the unassuming jewel that you treasure the most.

Ta ta for now,

Olivia