Day three post crash

I have hesitated to resume the blog, for various reasons. I felt very trembly and weak, for one thing. And life, ordinary life, suddenly seemed a bit trivial after the eyeball-searing moment watching the huge camion bearing down onto our car.
However, things seem to be resuming more of an ordinary cast.
More than anything else I want to celebrate being alive!
We drove - the next day - and despite my sister's wish that we stay on longer, into Spain, through the Bielsa tunnel in the end.  Lunch en route at the Les Routiers in Masseube which was wonderful, well attended and we recommend it if you are passing.

The countryside in France is so completely ordered, buckled down, managed, signposted, controlled - and the minute you get into Spain not only does the sun come out of the mist, but everything relaxes. That in itself seemed an endorsement of joy.
It was a long day's drive and I noticed I did actually flinch each time a lorry came towards us, or too close, even though my husband (who I often call The Concierge but should in this instance have titled The Chauffeur) is a very safe (even boring) driver.
The mountains shouted their magnificence.
The road twisted and wound its way.
We saw vultures - griffon vultures? And an eagle.
We saw waterfalls.
Glory glory.
To think I might have missed all that.
Our hotel was Completo (but we had a room reserved). The room turned out to have its own sitting room attached, and a balcony, and stupendous views.  The price including parking and an excellebnt breakfast was €60 for the two of us. No wonder it was Completo.
We found a sort-of rough tapas bar for a light supper.... workmanlike would be the word.
I slept like a log, the minute my head hit the pillow I think. Exhausted (and no wonder, with all that flinching).
We spent the day visiting the area - two villages in particular - Broto a little further down the valley, and Fragen, smaller and hanging above Torla. Torla itself is the main jumping off place to go and visit the National Par of Ordesa, twenty minutes away by bus (no cars allowed).  The whole place closes down from November to March. One characteristic of this town is the sweet medieval double-arch stone windows set into the strong square stone walls.  
In neither Broto nor Fragen did we spot anything like these, though all three have wonderful columnar stone chimneys with decorations on top.  In Torla, some of the roofs have these knives or cutters which diminish the impact of snowslides (mini avalanches) by slicing the snow-mats into strips. The very old houses have stone slab roofs. The very new houses do not have these gadgets.

Broto was bombed to bits in the 1930s and has been well rebuilt with modern housing and hotels around its medieval centre, and it has a fantastically beautiful waterfall (cascada) about 5 minutes easy walk from the centre.
The main topic of history is the centuries of warfare with the French, disputing ownership of the high pastures.  Wherever we go, it's war, war, war.... until my lifetime (at least in my part of the world, Europe).
My golden life. Which I still have.
We moved to another hotel which had space, and we're here for 2 nights. Now we're off to the National Park, and later will try to get into the prison at Broto when it opens this evening to see the carved art on its walls, made by people travelling through, or incarcerated for squabbling with (killing?) the French, or the Spanish.