Tucked into the tiny village of Meranges, high in the Pyrenees of Spain and a stone’s throw from both France and Andorra, is Can Borrell. In Catalan, the home language of Meranges, Can means house. This little treasure of a house is a very old inn with 6 rooms for guests and a restaurant that turns out fantastic breakfasts and dinners. We got to Can Borrell the hard way – taking a 5-hour drive with endless switch backs on a cliff-hugging road. This is deep in the Pyrennees, home to Catalan, French, and Spanish speakers in miniscule stone villages, lots of cows and sheep, and granite faced cliffs in the distance. We learned too late that there is a 2 hour drive from Barcelona complete with a tunnel that literally cuts through the mountains. For scenery, the long way is better viewing, but 5 hours of constant vigilance on mountain turns can be nauseating and exhausting, so I suggest the tunnel.
We saw only about 8 of the reported 75 residents of Meranges when we were there for a 4 day stay. There was the old woman with chickens and roosters living on her front patio which was just a few steps down from her bedroom, and another woman sweeping the steps of a small café which never seemed to be open when we wanted it to be, a farmer repairing his tractor alongside his wonderful loping spaniel that accompanied us on a morning walk, and the family that runs Can Borrell, Oliver Verdaguer, the chef, his wife Laura Forn, the manager who spent summers in Meranges as a child, and their 3 adorable and sturdy young sons.
Living in a city with 6,000+ restaurants, why would you ever drive 150
miles to eat in a city with a population of 1,500? For me, it’s a kind
of a Hillary Clinton type thing. She was right, it does take a village
to raise a child. Unfortunately for my wife and I, parents of a 16
month old boy who believes soil is a basic food group, we left the
village back in our home state of Michigan when we moved to Chicago. So
when we need a break from the exhaustive process of keeping our son’s
mouth free of dirt and other things you find on the average floor, we
gotta go to the village.
Where a certain quality of light illumines the lush foliage and warms the honey coloured brick of this fascinating country house hotel. It dapples the grey and pinkish white hides of the does as they playfully flirt and then shyly turn away from the piercing eyes of the antlered deer. It ripples across the quietly moving waters of the trout stream and turns the shining leaves of the great towering trees to gold.
Do you remember Mrs. Gooch’s health food stores? Opened in West Los
Angeles in 1977, Sandy Gooch’s markets served Southern California
hazard-free food until Whole Foods acquired it in 1993. If you remember
it fondly, you’re ripe for the picking. And let’s face it, if you’re
reading this you know its time for an escape. Religious experience or
not, the desert is dialing your exhausted and stressed number. Life can
take its toll, especially for those who spend a great portion of their
day trudging through traffic under the constant sun of Los Angeles,
California. It’s only human to reconnect with nature by departing the
idiosyncratic superficialities that surround you: billboards demanding
you lose weight, drink specific liquor, or watch the latest blockbuster
that diminishes your intelligence. Let a Midwesterner tell you weeks of
nothing but vitamin D infused blue skies can cause disenchantment!