Montpellier is the capitol of Languedoc-Rousillon, and a quarter of its population is under the age of 25. It’s a forward-looking university town, liveliest at its centre Place de la Comedie – buzzing with cafes, where crowds of teenagers swarm the square alongside the grungiest of backpackers and a very small man singing an indiscernible, nasal aria with tense enthusiasm. In the hotel district, a proprietor won’t allow us to see the room before checking in. Later, a smart trio of bilingual youth stops us in the street, inquiring as to whether our hotel would be good for two or three hours. We end up in a spot that’s good for connecting to the Internet – a gutted, converted stone building beside the old Roman baths, now a heavenly open-air restaurant just a stone’s throw from the Comedie. Notable adjustments to life in France, with higher taxes and a higher standard of living than southern Spain (though Northern Spain enjoys a healthier economy than Southern France does), includes the cleanliness of the streets and shops. Care is taken to present a shady spot to sit. Montpellier has the feeling of a large city with an intimate centre, focussed on high quality shopping, markets and pastry shops. At noon the pace slows only slightly and the people line up to purchase elaborate baguettes stuffed with salmon, ham, eggs, greens, tomatoes, cheeses and mayonaises. The patisseries overflow with gourmet pizzas and croque monsieurs and the day’s baguettes and croissants. It’s a mouth-watering tour of savory and sweet butter concoctions – the simplest fast food of the French. The only exception to the civilized environment is the omnipresence of the beloved chien, and the accompanying urban refuse. It’s amazing that a society so sensitive to aesthetics (tree-lined boulevards, gleaming facades) puts up with the daily shoe-scrape. Even the polished floor of the shopping mall is fair ground for Fifi’s moment.

Seville