You could tell you had entered Spain from the different style of roof tiles and a new slant on things.

In the cafe at the edge of the village all eyes were glued to the window prying out a glance of the stranger who drove across a mere footpath.

The romance of public figures had cemented the immovability of life.

Music, local brandy, memories, ancient lingering disputes, and new jokes squeezed their way between those standing at the bar and wafted onto the uneven street.

Real travel you must assume.