We’ve been learning to apply the same slow attitude toward travel.  At a daily life level, I found myself leaving earlier and driving the speed limit, staying off the freeways, and taking “Beauty Cuts” instead of short cuts when driving locally.  In the process I discover new sights and gardens and houses, more often encounter the Baron of Bubble (weaving gigantic bubbles at random Minneapolis street corners to spread Joy), lower my electricity/fuel costs and emissions, and feel calmer and safer.  A few extra minutes (if that) won’t kill me, and just might save me.

During last fall’s 6,000 mile North American tour, we learned to apply this to long driving days.  Driving an electric vehicle helps - every 2-3 hours we have to stop and stretch for half an hour while recharging, and our range goes down steeply after about 69 mph.  But even with those breaks, traveling more than 6 hours turns a day into an epic burden to be endured rather than an adventure to be embraced. We started breaking long stretches into shorter days where we could explore back roads, sleep in unexpected towns, stumble across Barbed Wire museums, and savor picnic lunches instead of gas station fried chicken. 

Now for these next 9 months in Europe, we’re trying to apply the same lessons to air and train travel. Our free stopover (and expensive stay) for 3 days in Iceland broke up an otherwise long red-eye flight, and gave us a taste of a delicious new Nordic wonderland. And now we have gifted ourselves a bonus night in Paris en route from Flavigny France to Ireland.  If we hadn’t, our day could have looked like this: 

Wake at 5am for frantic packing & cleaning, stress until the taxi arrives, pray the 8am train to Paris is on time, rush onto a 10:30 Paris metro then train to the airport, hope security isn’t too delayed, arrive panting and relieved at the gate 10 minutes before the 2:15 boarding time.  Repeat most of the above when we arrive in Cork and transfer to a bus to Bantry, text host family at 8pm to come pick us up for the final leg to Schull.  Arrive exhausted (if all went well) at 9pm, 17 hours after waking up.

Instead, we ambled in the light morning rain around the ramparts of Flavigny, sang while we cleaned, and strolled up to meet the taxi at the church knowing that if he was late, we had several other later trains we could catch.  We spent a fabulous night experiencing the Montparnasse neighbourhood of Paris (so peaceful on a Sunday night in the lull between the Olympics and ParaOlympics), logging 14,000 steps, eating Perfection in the form of baba ganoush and venison at the La Petite Souer bistro, wandering down to the Luxembourg Palace, and finished the night outside another corner cafe sharing a bread pudding.