In John McGahern's wonderful novel, By the Lake, which was published in Great Britain as That They May Face the Rising Sun, Jamesie and Mary, an Irish farming couple in their sixties, are making a trip to Dublin:

Since they went to Dublin for their son's wedding seventeen years ago, a single night hadn't been spent away from the house. There was about them a spiritual quality, as if they were going forth as supplicants or communicants rather than to the small diesel train that would taken them to Dublin in a couple of hours. ... Jamesie named every house they passed, not with his usual fierce interest but as if it were a recitation of prayer ...

May all of us travelers go forth as supplicants or communicants, eh?