As our journey across Spain neared its final stretch, we found ourselves in Zaragoza, a city we reached after a long day’s drive from Bilbao. By then, we were carrying the weight of many days of discovery—Barcelona, Valencia, Madrid, and then Bilbao. Each city left us amazed, full of memories, but also a little worn out. Zaragoza wasn’t originally meant to be a highlight of our trip, but more of a pause, a breath, a place to rest before crossing back into France. And it turned out to be exactly what we needed at that point.
We arrived in the late afternoon and checked into our hotel with relief. Our bodies were tired, our minds a little full, and all we really wanted was some comfort and quiet. Still, it didn’t feel right to completely skip seeing a city like Zaragoza. So we gathered just enough energy to head out and pay a visit to its most famous landmark—the Basilica del Pilar.
The walk to the basilica was calm, the kind of walk you take when there’s no rush and no pressure to do anything except appreciate what’s around you. And when we arrived, the sight was incredible. The Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar stood tall and proud, its domes rising into the fading sky, and the surrounding plaza open and welcoming. It was a peaceful place, with locals and a few tourists sitting on benches, children playing, and the light turning golden as evening approached. We stood for a while, took a few photos, and just let ourselves be there. That was enough. We didn’t need to go inside or take a tour. Sometimes, seeing something beautiful and feeling still in front of it is more than enough.
After that, we made our way to a nearby mall, craving something easy. We ate a simple meal, did a little wandering in the cool air-conditioned space, and then headed back to the hotel. No late-night strolls, no must-see list. Just sleep. It felt good to listen to what our bodies needed. Rest is part of travel too, and Zaragoza gave us that.
The next morning, we packed up early and began the drive from Zaragoza to Toulouse. This stretch of road was one of the most beautiful we had seen in our entire trip. We had no idea what awaited us, and that made it even better.
As we left the Spanish side behind, the landscape slowly began to change. The dry, flat plains gave way to rolling hills, then rising mountains, and eventually, we found ourselves driving through the Pyrenees. The scenery was breathtaking. The road twisted and turned, climbed and dropped, revealing new views around every bend—lush valleys, jagged cliffs, distant peaks dusted with snow even in summer. It was the kind of drive that made you fall in love with the road all over again.
There was one stretch in particular that felt both exhilarating and a little bit scary. The road began to climb steeply, wrapping around the mountainside. With every upward turn, the world below looked smaller, farther away. Then, after reaching the highest point, the road started to descend—narrow, winding, with sharp curves and occasional drop-offs just beyond the guardrail. We held our breath more than once, but my husband handled it so well, steering our little Volkswagen Polo with care and calm. It might not have been the most powerful car, but it carried us through like a champion.
We didn’t play music. We just looked. The beauty of the Pyrenees doesn’t need a soundtrack. The silence between us was full of awe. Every few minutes, I’d whisper, “Wow,” without even realizing I was saying it out loud. We felt tiny in the best way possible.
Somewhere along the way, as we crossed into southern France, we decided to stop in a small town for lunch. I don’t even remember the name of the town—it was one of those charming, peaceful places that seem to exist just to remind you that life doesn’t need to be rushed. We found a local restaurant, one of those places where the menu is only in French and everyone seems to know each other. It didn’t matter that we didn’t speak much French; the warmth of the people and the smell of the food did all the communicating we needed.
The meal was simple but delicious—fresh bread, soft cheese, roasted chicken with herbs, and a local dessert that was slightly sweet and absolutely perfect. After days of restaurant meals and quick bites, this felt like home cooking. We ate slowly, enjoying every bite, talking quietly, and watching the town go about its day outside the window. It was one of those meals that stays with you—not because it was fancy, but because it felt so real.
As we got back into the car and continued on toward Toulouse, we both felt something shift. Maybe it was the combination of the fresh mountain air, the quiet joy of that little town, or the peacefulness that comes after a good meal. Whatever it was, we felt lighter. Our trip had been amazing so far, full of excitement and discovery, but this part—the road between Zaragoza and Toulouse—was something different. It was calm, reflective, and breathtaking in its own quiet way.
By the time we reached Toulouse, the sun was lower in the sky. The landscape had leveled out again, and the soft colors of southern France wrapped around the city. Toulouse welcomed us with its pink buildings and relaxed rhythm. But we were still carrying the magic of the drive with us. Even now, when we think back to that summer road trip, it’s not always the famous cities or big sights that come to mind first—it’s that mountain road, that tiny French town, and the feeling of being somewhere completely beautiful and completely unexpected.
Travel isn’t always about ticking off lists or seeing the most popular places. Sometimes, it’s about those in-between moments—the roads, the views, the surprises, the meals in places you can’t even name, and the shared silence when words just aren’t enough. That drive from Zaragoza to Toulouse gave us one of those moments. It reminded us why we travel—not just to see the world, but to feel it.
