During university I mastered the art of finding bargain travel tickets. At first it was the necessity of maintaining an ambitiously long distance relationship in the poverty of my student years, but gradually it became more of an obsession. Even now my stubbornness to find the cheapest possible way to travel without hitch hiking rears its head whenever I’m planning a journey, however small. Such was the case as my latest trip crept ever closer. I began to shun the outdoors, spending my precious lunchtimes on Skyscanner and its various counterparts, watching the prices intently. When we finally got the go ahead to book flights among the logistics of finalising volunteering plans, direct tickets to Mexico City were near £800. But with a short stop in Madrid and an overnight stay in Cancun, we managed to cut this down to £400. It was in about the seventh hour of our second flight, with no on board entertainment and conversation, patience and all possible distractions exhausted that I began to question this decision. I took another …