Trams, planes and auto toll bills

The magic of air travel is in the speed at which we can reach a destination but not in the experience. The drive to the airport (allowing an extra hour or so for the inevitable motorway hold ups), the handover of car at the airport (even an indulgent 'meet and greet' can be fraught), the snaking queues at customs, the endless checking of passports and boarding passes, not to mention the dash for a departure gate only to find there are approximately 465748495 people ahead of you, are no fun. Factor in the flight delays and inconvenient flight times and it is enough to put off the most hardy traveller. Oh, and did I mention my fear of flying? Not enough to stop me getting on a plane, but it's another low-flying minus that causes a bit of turbulence as it crashlands into the 'cons' section of my 'air travel' checklist.

Today, we saw trams trundling through Bordeaux as we grabbed a croissant, espresso and fresh orange juice - we know it was fresh because we saw the cafe owner dash out and return with a net of the fruit just for us. Later, heading out of the city, we saw more trams gliding around the outskirts but in the central reservation on a dual carriageway, the rails cleverly hidden in the grassy banks. How civilised and aesthetically pleasing in a city heavily pedestrianised and far easier to explore by foot than by car. A pied (that's for you, Hev, my bilingual friend), I notice the police and ambulance sirens are old school, the smells are different from home, the shops more interesting and people greet us with a 'bonjour'. We clock an original Fiat 500 in a garage and drive out of the city via the Rue John Fitzgerald Kennedy - it is only some hours later we realise the significance of the day.


Tolls and a stroll
The tolls en route through France and Spain are much maligned. Penny-pinching Brits discuss toll avoidance on forums with tactical pride. We have some time on our hands, but NOT so much that we want a 60km detour simply to avoid tolls. Yes, they add up, but it's worth it and the automatic booths that quickly swallow and burp out our credit card make passing through them seamless. The highlight today has been the lunch stop in St Jean de luz, a small seaside town of red and white shuttered buildings along from Biarritz. It doubles up in atmosphere as a ski resort with designer shops and nautical-themed gift shops nestling alongside chocolatiers and windows displaying winter boots, woollen accessories and walking trousers - *thinks 'I wonder if they all have hidden glasses wipes in the pockets.'

Salamanca cathedral - view from out hotel room
Snail and pace
We enjoy a Basque plate of tapas and I have sea snails for the first time. Sweeping towards the Pyrenees and we are both struck by the beauty of a mountainous backdrop with toy town buildings on the hillsides. We drive on through the range with its highest points topped in snow and, above it, a plane, perhaps on a two hours and 35 minute flight from London to Faro. But I am reminded of my lunch - and realise I am far happier going at a much slower pace.