Metro.

The sun shone beautifully on the Pink City. A wedding party spilled out onto the Place de la Capitole, blinking in the brightness at the cameras. Rugby players in curly wigs and skirts did sack races amongst the guests and teepee-living hippies protested calmly against Sakozy's new Loppsi 2 law.

But deep underground was what the children loved best; sitting at the front of the driverless metro train, direction Jean Jaures. A ladies voice talking us through the staions in smooth French and harsh Occitan. Gabby, the driver, tugged an imaginary lever and made a hissing noise as we pulled out of each staion; conflating picture book stream trains with cutting edge electric transport technology.