Overview

Shortly after the near miss on the Languedocienne between me, the Opel, and the tomatoes, I arrive in the Aubrac, the highest and least-populated region of France, to join La Transhumance. This ancient springtime festival dates back to the eleventh century. Farmers shepherd beautiful brown cows from their winter quarters up to their summer grazing meadows. The cows are garlanded with flowers, and their steady gait sets off a beautiful cacophony of ringing bells. The leisurely procession halts every few kilometers at fields full of food stalls and musicians. Cows and cowhands are refueled. At the end of the day, the cows are released into meadows filled with wild flowers, and the farmers are released into an all-night party.

It would have been nice to stay, but I had to catch a plane. At N?^mes Airport, the tempo of my life quickens and its quality plummets. As I enter the air travel system, unpleasant forces come into play, and I yearn for the pastoral tempo of La Transhumance. Sadly for me, that s not an option. But it is also not an option to ignore the mobility question. The world and its goods are on the move but modern mobility is unsustainable. As a system, mobility is locked into a mode of perpetual growth in a world whose carrying capacity is limited. Modern movement has also transformed the ways we experience here and now and there and next.

The status quo policy predict and provide promises increasing travel (of people and goods), forever, but...