Travellers' Checks

          We can all be travel-agents now – if we have decent broadband, good apps and, of course, the inclination. All those well-thumbed timetables and hotel brochures that used to be the stock-in-trade of professionals have migrated online and become available to those of us amateurs who have the will to sift through them and the confidence to press the ‘book now’ button. Those who don’t are best advised to pay for the service and enjoy whatever insurance comes with it. I have long been an enthusiastic DIY booker, so planning the three-week trip that we are currently part-way through – to Spain and Italy via a ferry and numerous trains – was not a chore but an integral part of the anticipatory thrill of travelling to meet up with old friends in exotic locations. It had been suggested to me that I might buy European Interrail passes that allow you to ‘hop’ onto any passing train, thereby adding flexibility to your timetable, an arrangement that no doubt appeals to younger, more carefree explorers but which is too uncertain for older adventurers like us, who prefer their excitement tempered by the comfort of knowing that we have reserved seats.

          So, I booked everything that could be pinned down and at the end of the process could barely believe that I had only two pieces of paper: one, the written itinerary that I had produced as a back-pocket aide memoire, the other a print-at-home ticket for the sea-crossing an anomaly that is hard to account for. Otherwise, the beauty of the operation is that all bookings were on (or in?) my phone – that same phone that I remembered I had left charging on the sideboard shortly after locking the front door and setting off. We had barely crossed the road, so it was no hardship to go back for it. Nevertheless, there was initially a moment of panic. What if we had set sail on the ferry with the old-fashioned paper tickets, only to find ourselves well and truly at sea? But a moment’s reflection brought relief. All those bookings are, of course, neither ‘on’ nor ‘in’ my phone: they inhabit a cloud server and can be retrieved using some other device. It was not the narrow escape from disaster that I at first thought it might have been. Now, if those tickets had all been on paper and left behind on the sideboard (along with the traveller’s cheques) …well, those were the good old days.

          I should not have been surprised, given the off-peak timing of our journey, to find that the passengers on the ferry were mostly retired folk, many of whom were heading back to their holiday homes in the sun. I thought I detected an undercurrent of grumbling in the cafeteria queue and, when I probed a little, I learned that yet another adverse consequence of Brexit is in play, namely the curtailment of free movement. So, the Brexiteers triumphed insofar as Johnny Foreigner can no longer park himself in Britain, no questions asked, but – quid pro quo – Brits may now only reside in their continental bolt holes for a maximum of 90 days in any 180-day period before having to travel home to get their passports stamped. Surely none of those who voted in favour of national “sovereignty” thought this would be a beneficial consequence?

          Anyhow, it feels good to be back northern Spain, tasting the food and wine in situ, even though we are onlookers, envious of the way the natives spill into their urban streets and squares to take their ease and socialise. I know that some of the elements of Continental culture have been adopted back home, but immersion is a more satisfying experience. And travelling abroad serves to shake me out of the complacent conviction that home is the centre of the universe.