Before I begin, I’d like to thank Michèle Buisson and her "Misha’s travel journals," which really helped me plan this trip. It’s tough to find information about this part of India, which is quite different from the "more traditional India." I’m so grateful to her for introducing me to a family who hosted me for 4 nights and 3 days. I can’t wait to return the favor and welcome you all to my place in early July!
Thursday, March 20th.
The alarm goes off super early, but I’m already awake—I was too worried I’d sleep through it. I leave the house at 4:00 AM. The rain has stopped, and at this hour, there aren’t many trucks on the road. I arrive at Barcelona Airport easily by 6:20 AM, let the valet know I’m there, and he quickly picks up my car.
This time, I’m flying with Etihad Airways again. I booked the ticket during my trip to Cambodia: Barcelona/Kolkata, Delhi/Barcelona for 567 €. At that price, I didn’t hesitate for long—I knew I had to take it. And I’m glad I did because, by the time I returned, the price had gone up to 700 €. I can already hear the reactions: "Wow, how’d you get a ticket for that price? What site did you use? You’re amazing, MarieJo!" One thing’s for sure—I’m really happy with this deal.
The flights from Barcelona to Abu Dhabi and Abu Dhabi to Kolkata go smoothly, and we arrive on time at 2:55 AM. There aren’t many people at immigration, so I get through quickly. My luggage isn’t on the carousel yet.
After collecting my bag, I check in for my next flight with IndiGo, a 5:40 AM flight to Guwahati, arriving at 7:00 AM. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, so I take a taxi from the airport to Gruham Sojourn Homestay. The house is upstairs, and the neighborhood seems quiet, with restaurants lining the street. The room won’t be ready until 10:00 AM, so I rest on the bench in the meantime.
Once in the room, I take a shower—it really helps me feel refreshed. I need to exchange some euros, so I look up a nearby exchange bureau on Google and head out to find it. I locate it easily, and the staff are super friendly. I get a great rate (1 € = 90 INR).
I wander around the neighborhood. The train station isn’t far, and small markets line the streets.
I head back to my area, walking along the main avenue. About 500 meters from my street, I discover a museum. The visit is fascinating—I see the famous Majuli masks, among other things.
I’m not far from the Brahmaputra River, and the temptation to visit is too strong to resist. I’d hoped to find a promenade along the river, but that doesn’t exist here.
I walk back calmly and notice several restaurants in my street. On the doorstep of my accommodation, I spot a pastry shop with cakes that look more like the ones we have in France than the typical ones here in India. A visit is a must, and I’m not disappointed!
Tonight, I’m dining at a restaurant in the street. The menu is a bit disappointing—burgers, pizzas, pasta—nothing very Indian. So, I’ll go with tomato pasta.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Saturday, March 22
I had a good night’s sleep. The house is so quiet despite my very early wake-up. Ugh, I’d love to sleep longer, but I can tell that’s over for today.
Breakfast is included, and the staff serves me an omelet, toast, butter, jam, and tea.
Today, I’m dedicating my day to visiting temples outside the city center, so I leave the house in search of an auto-rickshaw.
We start with the Kamakhya Temple, located on Nilachal Hill in Guwahati.
The driver takes narrow alleys uphill—the traffic is intense here. He drops me off in the middle of the shops lining the street and goes to wait for me farther away, out of the hustle and bustle. I have to take a pedestrian-only path that leads up to the temple. Shops selling flowers, incense, and souvenirs line the alleys all the way to the temple.
This temple is one of the oldest and most revered centers of Tantric practice. It’s dedicated to the goddess Kamakhya, who is considered the goddess of desire.
I’m the only Western tourist here, and I’m amazed to see so many people with such devotion. The temple itself isn’t exceptional, but I have to admit that after seeing so many, I’ve become picky. Here, you come for the atmosphere.
As I enter the grounds, I see a room on the left where priests and astrologers wait for devotees.
I walk around the temple. Devotees are queuing to enter and receive *darshan*, but the visit is forbidden for me.
I leave the site and head back to the driver, who’s keeping an eye on me in the crowd.
We head back into the city and continue toward another hill, Chitrasal Hill or Navagraha Hill. This temple is dedicated to the nine celestial bodies, or *Navagrahas*, of Hindu astronomy.
Inside, the temple houses nine *Shivalingams*, each representing a planet and adorned with different colored fabrics to distinguish them.
Blue for Shani, god of the planet Saturn, is actually black, with a sword and two daggers in hand. His mount is a crow or a dog.
Yellow for Guru, green for Venus, and so on...
It’s very dark inside, and it takes a moment to adjust to the dim light. The atmosphere here is deeply spiritual, filled with the scent of incense and prayers.
Outside, incense burners and oil lamps fill the entrance with smoke.
And the monkeys have made themselves at home—some are even grooming each other for fleas.
I meet up with the driver again, who takes me near the Brahmaputra. I walk along the river to the cable car departure point. I have time, so I decide to see where the Brahmaputra crossing leads. There are a lot of us making the crossing. We arrive at a flat area where rickshaw drivers are waiting for customers to take us to temples.
Everyone does the same as me and buys a return ticket (300 INR one way).
Back on the other side, I continue my walk to the dock to go to Umananda Island, or Peacock Island (ticket: 200 INR).
Here too, there are a lot of people. You have to climb a small hill to reach the temple, and the atmosphere is really friendly.
On the way back, I head toward my accommodation. I pass by the High Court and spot two beautiful colonial houses across from it. I stop in front of one, which is in a well-maintained park—the house is magnificent. A guard with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder approaches me and signals for me to leave. I don’t react and quickly leave the area.
I pass by the planetarium—there’s a crowd waiting for the next show at 4 PM, but I’d rather go for lunch than wait.
There are restaurants across the street, and I find a really nice one called *The Hangout*. I’ll have my first *masala dosa* there.
Afterward, I take the street to the left, which leads me to a small market. I retrace my steps, visit an emporium, and then head calmly toward the pastry shop. Today, I try a lemon macaron—okay, it’s not very Indian, but this pastry shop is so tempting that I can’t resist.
Tonight, I try another restaurant. It’ll be mushrooms in cheese sauce with rice, and it’s really good (240 INR).
I don’t go to bed too late, but I’m tired after such a full day.
As soon as I lie down, I feel my stomach isn’t happy. The night will be restless, and I’ll be making regular trips between the bed and the bathroom. I’m off to a great start on this trip if I get food poisoning on the first day. I’m not sure what made me sick, but I’ll be more careful about what I drink and eat in the coming days.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
This time I’m flying again with Etihad Airways—I booked the ticket during my trip to Cambodia: Barcelona/Kolkata, Delhi/Barcelona for 567 €.
I’ve often had this idea, but when you add the travel costs to get to the chosen airport, plus potentially a night in a hotel, you realize the price you paid isn’t really a saving. Plus, the fatigue from this kind of flight compared to a Pau-India route with just a short layover in CDG and a direct flight afterward.
I don't think I'll follow your travel journal for now. We'll see later... I like switching authors between every two or three reads...
Don't take it the wrong way.
(I’ve often had this idea, but when you add in the travel costs to get to the chosen airport, plus possibly a night in a hotel, you realize the price you pay isn’t really a saving. + The fatigue from this kind of flight vs. a Pau–India route with just a short layover in CDG and then a direct flight afterward.)
(I don’t have a flight from Perpignan/CDG—it’d mean going to Orly, and I’d have to spend at least one night near an airport, so for me, it’s easier to go to Barcelona. Everyone around here leaves from Barcelona. I don’t think I’ll follow your travel journal now. We’ll see later.)
Thanks for your quick visit.
It’s still something new, but you’re free to look elsewhere—no worries 😏
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
thanks for your quick visit.
It’s still something new, but feel free to look elsewhere—no worries!
But don’t take it the wrong way... I’ll definitely read your travel journal, of course. The topic interests me, but I might read it all in one go once it’s finished. I need a little time between different authors...
For example, I love chocolate mousse, but when I have some and then some more and then even more, it makes me sick, whereas if I space out the servings, I digest it just fine
Thanks for stopping by briefly.
It’s definitely something new, but feel free to look elsewhere—no worries!
But don’t take it the wrong way... I’ll definitely read your travel journal, of course... the topic interests me, but I might read it all in one go when it’s finished. I need a little time between different authors...
No worries, all good! 😊😄
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Monday, March 24th.
I had a peaceful night and slept well. I have breakfast (omelette, toast) before leaving the house. I need to take a taxi (400 rs) to reach the bus stop, which is outside the city center. I'm heading to Kaziranga—the bus is comfortable, and everyone has a seat. It feels almost luxurious (500 rs). We leave around 9:30 AM. On the way, we make a half-hour stop for a meal.
At first, we pass by rice fields, then tea gardens take over. Tall trees are planted among the tea bushes. The landscape is stunning, and I’m glued to the window.
Before arriving in Kaziranga, we drive alongside the park. The speed limit is 30 km/h, and I spot rhinos and elephants. It’s so exciting to see all this!
The bus drops me off by the roadside, and I take a rickshaw to Green Gables Kairanga GH, which I booked on Booking.com (4088 rs for 2 nights, breakfast included). The house is new and run by a very friendly young couple. It’s in the countryside, close to the tea gardens.
Once settled, the host offers to take me to visit an orchid garden with 500 varieties (entry: 500 rs). The orchids grow in a large greenhouse, and the visit is guided. There are all kinds of colors—some individual, some in clusters. It’s amazing!
The greenhouse is in a large garden surrounded by bamboo, and a small dance performance is offered to visitors.
My taxi is waiting at the exit, and we head back to the house, where I’ll have dinner.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Tuesday, March 25th.
Had a really peaceful night—so nice and quiet.
Since I arrived in Assam, I’ve noticed this area is much less noisy, with lighter traffic, so it’s way less tiring.
I booked a jeep for this morning, and we’re set to leave at 7 AM (4000 rs for the jeep).
I’ll grab breakfast when we get back.
At the park entrance, there are at least thirty jeeps gathered. It’s a little worrying to see so many people in the same place at the same time.
The driver signs us in at the entrance, and we wait for the gates to open at 7:30 AM. Before entering, a guard searches my bag—plastic bottles and cigarettes are banned. I had a bottle, but luckily, the driver hid it with his things.
All these jeeps starting up at once makes me a little nervous—it’s my first safari, and I didn’t imagine we’d be this crowded. Well, it’s India.
We spot a wild boar, and in the distance, I see deer, an elephant, and one-horned rhinos. This species is unique to this region and only found in Asia.
A little further on, several jeeps are stopped. We approach slowly, and the driver checks with his colleagues before signaling me to look into the bushes. I see a big brown shape—a tiger—quickly disappearing into the jungle. I didn’t get a photo, but I hope we’ll see another one up closer. This is already getting exciting.
We continue down a trail, the jeeps have spread out, and drivers call each other when they spot something interesting. A bit further, we see wild elephants—I’m so happy to see them up close. It’s a dream come true.
Rhinos are everywhere—what incredible animals.
The driver stops and points out a branch by the water where turtles are resting.
Further on, a Bengal monitor lizard on a tree trunk.
deer with beautiful antlers emerging from a thicket.
The morning flies by, and I’m absolutely enchanted by the visit.
On the way back, a jeep is stopped, and the driver turns to me and says *tiger*. We stop, and now several jeeps are waiting. Five minutes, ten minutes pass, the other jeeps leave, but my driver waits another five good minutes before slowly starting up again. He drives past the thicket, and in the distance, across a pond, we spot a tiger swimming before it disappears into the jungle. I managed to take a photo—it’s not great, but what a memory!
We get back to the guesthouse at 10:30 AM, and I’m so thrilled that I ask the driver if he’s free this afternoon for another safari.
I have breakfast—hard-boiled eggs, rotis, potatoes, and tea. I’ll make it till tonight.
I go for a walk around the house, take a side street, follow the homes, and at the end, I come across a huge tea garden.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
At 1:30 PM, the driver picks me up, and we head further for this new safari.
At the start, there are far fewer of us than this morning. When I get in, my bag is thoroughly searched—I didn’t bring a water bottle this time.
We drive a little, and very quickly, I spot rhinos quite close to the path.
A little further on, we stop, get out of the car, and a guard points out a cobra hidden in the bushes—impossible to photograph. We continue, and then there are elephants by the water. Further on, one crosses the path, and we follow it—it’s really exciting! Even further, they’re in a family group in the bushes.
a wading bird watches for fish
I’m truly happy and delighted with this day, even though we didn’t see a single tiger this afternoon.
We return home around 5:30 PM—the day was packed with emotion.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Thanks for this new travel journal—I’ll be following it closely! You got so close to the animals; what an incredible experience, I can only imagine.
As for me, I don’t have the energy to start a new journal. Especially since you’ve already thoroughly documented West Bengal, where I wandered during my last two trips to India, drawing inspiration from your journal about the demonetization era. Such a great state, barely visited by Westerners, much like Assam, I’d guess. This year, we only crossed paths with about a dozen foreigners, mostly in Kolkata...
Hey there!
So glad you're back on the forum—that’s great!
During my trip to West Bengal, I didn’t come across any Westerners. This year, though, I saw a couple at the guesthouse in Kaziranga who I think were from New Zealand.
At the guesthouse in Majuli, there was a young German couple and one from Switzerland, and I spotted 4 or 5 foreign tourists in Mon during the festival (Nagaland). Oh, and there was a French camper van without its passengers at the Myanmar border. I’ll tell you more about it later.
It’s too bad if you’re not keeping up with your travel journals—mine’s really outdated now, and this year’s trip included a part in Sikkim! 😊😊
Come on, a little courage! 😉
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Well, just back from Chhattisgarh and off you go again to Assam! 😮 You really don’t slow down, do you? You’re churning out travel journals one after another and keeping up a cracking pace! You must be retired to do that! 😛 I’ve been retired much longer than you and I’m still procrastinating over my MyAtlas one. 🤪
Assam—we went there with a group of friends about fifteen years ago.
The three-day cruise on the Brahmaputra was the highlight of the trip. I recognized the Kamakhya Temple. I have a, let’s say, macabre memory of it 🏴☠️. I can still hear the screams of those poor little goats being sacrificed, and I can still see the pools of blood spilled on the ground that we walked through... barefoot, of course! As for Kaziranga, I’m shocked by the number of jeeps packed with Indian tourists. We didn’t experience that. It must have been really noisy. It *is* India, after all! The rangers have even started banning plastic bottles to prevent them from ending up in nature! It *is* India! 😎 Bring a reusable water bottle next time! 😉
I’ll be following the Nagaland part with interest.
Best,
Hey, I couldn't resist. I wanted to compare it with my trip to Assam in 2019.
I'm glad you're so happy despite these tough conditions.
That Indian woman in a sun hat in a jeep heading into the jungle is the very symbol of that bourgeois India—I hate it—on vacation. It reminds me of the French woman in Guadeloupe who claimed she was climbing La Soufrière in stilettos. I never saw her reach the top...
When I went to Kaziranga, we set off almost at nightfall, riding elephants so as not to disturb or scare the animals, including the rhinos. And there weren’t many of us.
And the "little ones" were following their mothers on walks...
I see things have changed a lot, and Indians will do anything for money, even violate nature and the jungle. In 20 years, India will be nothing more than a distant memory of a terrestrial paradise. Luckily, I’ll be dead and won’t have to see it.
Clearly, in a very different style, we share the same approach to discovering the unknown India. But hurry up and finish your discoveries because in 2 or 3 years, it’ll all be ruined—none of this will exist anymore.
You’re really lucky to have seen the tiger. In 16 years, I haven’t even managed to spot the ears or tail of one.
I’m only posting one photo so I don’t clutter your travel journal with mine, even though I’m itching to show them...
The goat sacrifices François mentioned, on the other hand, didn’t appeal to me at all...
in the distance, in a pond, we spot a tiger swimming and disappearing into the jungle.
The Bengal Tiger—we were lucky enough to see one strutting disdainfully in front of us for several long minutes in Nagarhole National Park, on the border of Kerala and Karnataka. No doubt the guide had slipped him a little *bakshish* so we could admire him!
Hello,
I’m going to clutter the travel journal a bit... tiger sightings have become more frequent in Kaziranga in recent years.
I’ve been visiting parks in India since... 1991, and regularly (several times a year) since 2000.
From a tourist perspective, in many parks (except Ranthambore, Kanha, and Bandhavgarh), it was practically deserted until around 2010—just 1 to 5 jeeps.
Then, with the rise of the internet and the growth of India’s middle class, locals started visiting their own parks.
After COVID, it’s been an "invasion." I think it’s completely normal and really interesting for wildlife conservation—even if the animals are disturbed—along with environmental efforts (like banning plastic bottles) that locals are exploring their parks.
Unlike the rest of India, there’s no litter. Guides or drivers scold local tourists if they throw trash outside the jeep. If they could keep up this habit in daily life, it’d be great for fighting pollution. Sometimes, we don’t do much better in France...
For marien33, I’d be happy to share 1 or 2 safaris with you to show you a tiger. To give you an idea, during my last trip to Tadoba in April, out of 22 safaris, only one was tiger-free, and I was lucky enough to see 41 different tigers—66 in total, counting repeat sightings...
March 26 to March 30. MAJULI
My host walks me to the side of the road, and we wait 5 minutes for the bus to arrive. Here, everyone travels seated, which is really nice. Along the way, we pass tea gardens on both sides of the road. It’s the start of the picking season, and the women are at work.
In Jorhat, I take a rickshaw to Neematighat, 12 km away, where the ferry terminal to Majuli Island is located. The crossing takes an hour by ferry—it’s pretty slow, and the ferry is full. It carries cars, motorcycles, goods, and pedestrians.
We arrive at Dakhinpat, and as soon as I get off the ferry, I’m quickly picked up by a shared taxi driver. We have to wait until the car is full to leave—that means 10 passengers—and we head to Garamur. When we arrive, I easily find a tuk-tuk that takes me to Ananda’s place. We stop by the restaurant, and an employee leads me down the path to the accommodations—simple, clean bamboo bungalows side by side. The place is really nice and peaceful. I spend the afternoon relaxing. I meet the owner, who suggests a tuk-tuk tour for the next day. We go to the restaurant, where maps of this part of the island are displayed. We plan the next day’s visit to the most important satras. The distances are too far to cover by bike, so I’ll need to hire a tuk-tuk for the day.
satra = Hindu monastery. Of the 65 satras that once existed on the island, only 22 remain today, all dedicated to Vishnu and also serving as cultural centers.
The monks are known for their traditional dances and songs, but you have to come during the festivals—unfortunately, there aren’t any right now.
Thursday, March 27. The rickshaw driver, Binud, picks me up at 8:15 AM and takes me to Chamagari Satra. This is the center of mask culture in Majuli.
When we arrive, I see the masks displayed on the outer walls.
A small room on the side is filled with heads representing various mythological characters and creatures.
Across from it, another room where young monks are working on making new masks. These masks are used in bhaonas, traditional plays where actors wear them to portray mythological stories. The masks representing demons are the most beautiful.
Some masks are made for sale to tourists.
A little farther on, the monastery resembles a large hall with openings on the sides where devotees come to pray. At the back of the hall, a section is reserved for the sacred, with deities. The prayer hall is called a namghar.
Around the monastery, rows of living quarters for the monks. Each has a room with a shared kitchen and toilet.
Young monks often arrive at the monastery as early as age seven. They’re taken in by the elders and receive an education, spending years mastering the arts taught at the satra.
We head to the potters’ village, Salmora Gaon.
When we arrive, Binud stops near a very traditional kiln. The fire is at the bottom, and on the upper level, pots are stacked on top of each other and covered with earth, which hardens during firing.
A woman and two men are unloading the still-warm pots. She ties the pots together with bamboo vines to lower them to the side of the road.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
A little further into the courtyard of a house, a woman is working seated on a stool close to the ground, creating a pot.
She doesn’t have a wheel; the very dark clay is rolled into a coil, and she places it in a saucer that she spins with her foot while shaping the coil with her hands. She adds more clay as the piece takes form until she achieves a pot. The clay comes from the riverbed.
The pots then dry in the sun before she picks them up again and taps them to give them their final shape. After this step, they’ll be fired.
From there, we head to the banks of the Brahmaputra, where women are doing laundry, men are fishing from boats, and pots are stored before being loaded onto boats bound for Jorhat, where they’ll be sold at the markets.
Along the road, we pass Mishing houses, built on stilts and made of bamboo mats with palm roofs. Each house has its own boat, stored under the stilts, which they use during the monsoon season from June to September when the water can rise very high.
There’s also a loom, and the women often work on it.
Here, she’s making a *gamosa*. It’s a cloth that can be used as a towel, handkerchief, or belt. It holds an important place in Assamese culture and is used during social, cultural, and religious ceremonies. The *gamosa* is also a symbol of hospitality, friendship, and respect. I’ll be given several during my stay.
Next stop at the *satra* of Dakhinpat. It’s very old and very important in Majuli. Photos are not allowed here.
We continue to Uttar Kamalabari *satra*, also very significant. This is where *Sattriya Nritya*, one of the eight forms of classical Indian dance, is practiced.
the people in the photo above are wearing the *gamosa* as a scarf.
On the way, we stop to see two women preparing the warp for their next weaving.
We finish at Auniati *satra* with its museum.
Back to the guesthouse after this beautiful day.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Hi Marie-Jo,
What memories... I’m rediscovering places I’ve visited. We took almost the same photos 😉
My trip to Assam left me with a sense of unfinished business. Given how I travel, I didn’t stay long enough—just a week, I think. Weirdly, I can’t find any documents from that trip except the photos...
I loved Majuli. But I remember it rained a lot...
two women preparing the warp for their next weaving.
No, those threads are the warp. The weft is the thread on the shuttle that’s passed through the warp. I was a weaver for over 15 years...
I’ve always called the stretched threads the "trame" too—it makes sense if you think of it like "the plot of a story," which is the structure of a novel, for example. Thanks for the insight, JM; I’ll sleep a little smarter tonight and try to use the right term from now on.
Thanks, MJ, for your photos and your travel journal.
No worries, actually, it’s really only the experts who know that the right term for these threads is "chaîne."😉
Actually, I had a feeling that wasn’t the right word, and since I couldn’t remember it, I just put "trame," figuring Marien would correct me anyway... and here we are.
Thanks!😅
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Actually, I thought it didn’t sound right, and since I couldn’t remember the correct word, I just left the template, figuring Marien would correct me anyway... and here we are.
If that’s how you’re taking it... Write whatever you want, however you want.
I’ll stop following this travel journal to avoid the temptation of adding my two cents...
Friday, March 28
Since 5 AM this morning, the rain has been falling. It's now 7 AM, and it's still going, so I'm staying in bed with a book, hoping it'll stop soon. An hour later, I head out for breakfast—the sky is gray, but the rain has stopped.
I order an omelet with toast, and they serve me a stuffed omelet with 3 slices of soggy white bread. Not great—I’ll be more careful in the coming days.
The owner of the guesthouse comes to get me and explains the route I need to take by bike today. We head to the rental shop at the end of the street. I’ve photographed the route and noted the names of the villages I need to pass through.
I wander through the countryside, accompanied by birds, and cross villages with stilt houses.
I stop in a village to watch some young people playing carrom—it doesn’t look easy.
A little further on, a woman is working at her loom, and I stop—I’m always fascinated by looms. I stay for a while, watching her work.
I follow a river, and a kid in a boat waves at me—maybe he’s fishing. We exchange big waves.
I reach a bamboo bridge—the passage is toll-based: 20 rs.
Further on, there’s a raft crossing. Bikes and motorcycles are allowed on board. A rope is stretched along the crossing, and the guy operating the raft uses it to pull himself along. It’s a pretty archaic but effective method. (Crossing: 100 rs)
I cross two more bridges. The first is in bad shape—after crossing, I realize you can actually go underneath it. The second is busier, and a concrete bridge is under construction, which will make life easier for locals, even if it loses some of its charm.
All day, I follow a river with fishing nets, birds, and rice fields. The ride is lovely—the nature is beautiful, I see local life, and I’m loving it.
I must’ve biked longer than planned because I had to backtrack several times and ask for help to find the right path. The route is a loop, and the day was really enjoyable. On the way back, I return the bike and pay 150 rs. I head back for a well-deserved snack after this active day
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
The colors and pattern woven by that woman are gorgeous. Did you see this kind of fabric for sale? It’s so original and contemporary.
Those raft-ferry crossings for rivers or bridges in Majuli were really expensive—or did you get the tourist price? In Murshidabad, we paid 5 rupees several times to cross on foot by raft, 5 rupees per passenger in Kalna, and 250 rupees for the car. Locals can’t afford 100 rupees—that’s a fortune for them...
This year, I learned how to "play" carrom at a guesthouse. What a laugh we had... I’m absolutely hopeless at making the right move with two fingers to flick the piece. My friends and the Indians were stunned. And yet, I tried *so* many times. I managed to score a few points, but it was pure luck.
Saturday, March 29.
I head out again with Binud, the rickshaw driver. He’s so kind that I’m happy to give him work.
We set off to visit some satras, the first one being Utal Kumabalari Satra, which is very old. A group of women arrives at the same time, and the selfie sessions start in good spirits. They’re really impressed to see me traveling alone from France, ask my age, and then want more photos. I find these moments fun and enjoy myself. Several times during my stay, people ask how long the flight is from France to India, and every time, it leaves them dreaming.
On the way out, I spot a beautiful bird.
Next, he takes me to visit an association that employs women. The room is filled with weaving looms.
Farther on, we arrive in a larger village, and I hear music and see children parading. We quickly stop—I want to see what’s happening.
The children are in traditional outfits, accompanied by adults. I follow them and have a great time. We arrived at just the right moment—these are kids from several schools, all in different outfits, boys and girls, young and older. The most beautiful outfits will certainly be rewarded.
We pass by rice fields where we’re staying.
Women fish along the riverbank.
We go by the old abandoned pier—the stretch of sand is vast.
We head to Kamalabari Satra.
This satra is very important, and the monks’ living quarters, or *hutis*, are around the monastery.
The day was nice and relaxed.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
for fabric, there’s no shop since everyone has a loom at home.
for the raft, I doubt there’s a tourist rate since very few people do this tour. Maybe I got ripped off—I don’t know if I misunderstood or added a zero when I wrote it in my travel journal that night. But it seemed expensive to me.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
How lovely it is to follow you along the river, from village to temple and workshop, so close to the people. I’d happily hop on a bicycle! No wonder they shower you with gamosas—you seem so kind.
Could you tell us more about your new profile picture?
Sunday, March 30th
Woke up at 5:15 AM. At 6 AM, the hostel owner takes me to Binud, who had fallen asleep. We head to Dakhinpat Gate—no shared taxis today since it's Sunday. The electric tuk-tuk ride feels a bit long, and time is ticking. I need to catch the 8 AM ferry. We arrive at 7:20 AM, and there’s already a crowd at the ticket stand, but it’s closed. The ferry is already full and leaves at 8 AM. Once it departs, two men show up, the counter opens, and there’s a bit of a scramble—one line for men, one for women. The ferry arrives but won’t leave again until 8:20 AM, which worries me because I have a train to catch in Jorhat.
Binud suggests calling a taxi in Jorhat to take me to the station faster; otherwise, I’ll miss my train. I accept his offer.
Before leaving, Binud offers me tea and a biscuit—much appreciated.
When I disembark, the taxi is already waiting for me. It’s easy for him to spot me—I’m the only tourist. We leave quickly. The ride is pretty long, and Binud calls the driver to make sure he found me and gives him instructions to take me all the way to the train.
We arrive at the station, but we don’t take the main entrance. Instead, we climb a staircase overlooking the tracks, then go down and walk the entire platform to the ticket counter at the other end. I hurry—luckily, there’s no one at the counter. I buy my ticket. The driver catches up with me, and the train pulls in. We rush to an almost-empty carriage. The driver helps me with my bag, gets off quickly, and the train departs. So many emotions—the driver was about to call Birud to reassure him.
For a large part of the journey, we pass tea plantations—it’s stunning. I arrive in Dimapur, get off the train, and a police officer spots me. He takes me to the police station to register. I have to show my passport, visa, and entry permit for Nagaland. He asks for the dates of my stay in Nagaland and the places I’ll visit. He notes everything in a register and asks for the address of the hostel where I’ll be staying in Kohima.
At the exit, I take a tuk-tuk to Cedar Hotel, which I booked by email. It’s 300 meters from the station. The hotel is great—young, friendly staff at the reception. The room is spacious, clean, with a big bed for 1680 Rs, and there’s a restaurant I’ll try later.
I go visit the Kachari ruins, which close 10 minutes after I arrive. They’re mushroom-shaped dome pillars. The purpose of these monoliths remains a mystery to this day.
Only the fort gate remains.
There isn’t much to see in Dimapur—the city is dirty, dusty, and everything is closed. It’s strange to see a city that feels almost dead, especially in India. I head back to the hotel around 5 PM.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Monday, March 31st
I leave Dimapur at 9:15 AM in a shared taxi for Kohima. The driver is speedy, the road is quite winding and often two-way. We arrive safely at 10:45 AM. Now I need to take another taxi to Khonoma—only 22 km, but it takes an hour to get there. Upon arrival, the taxi drops me off at the registration office where I have to show all my documents again. Then he takes me to Hills View Cottage Khonoma. The house is beautifully flowered with lovely views of the mountains and rice fields, but it’s misty.
The house is empty when I arrive. I call out, knock on the door—no one answers. I wait on a stool, and I pique the curiosity of a neighbor who calls the daughter of the house, who seems fast asleep. She shows me to a small, simple, and clean room with a bathroom. The owner arrives around 2 PM and offers me lunch. I need to hire a guide to visit the village, and he comes to pick me up at the house.
We return to the registration office and take the street that goes up with lots of steps. In this small village, there are three forts that were once occupied by the "Nagas Angamis," who resisted the British until 1880.
"The Angamis were originally warriors and headhunters. They spent much of their time fighting neighboring villages. As a symbol of their power, they would cut off the heads of their enemies. This ended with the arrival of the British."
A man sitting on the fort steps agrees to a few photos.
Nagaland was animist, but since the British, they’ve adopted the Baptist religion.
In December, the great Hornbill Festival takes place, gathering most of the tribal communities for cultural demonstrations.
We head down to the village square, which is used for meetings. On either side of the square, I discover the morungs, beautifully decorated with Mithun horns and other animal skulls, wood carvings... Guns, decorations, the jewelry they wear during the festival, and woven baskets adorn the walls.
Unmarried men gather here to learn the customs and traditions of the tribe. The Naga elders orally pass down religious practices, folk music and songs, wood carving, bamboo weaving, and tribal dialects.
The crops are terraced—they’ve just harvested garlic and are now growing potatoes. The monsoon lasts from June to September, and during these four months, the land transforms into rice fields.
The guide leaves me, and I continue on another road that leads nowhere. I have no choice but to turn back and return to the homestay, where I get to know the whole family.
Before arriving at the house, I play with this adorable little girl.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Tuesday, April 1st
I set off with the guide and a taxi to explore the surroundings of Khonoma. We take dusty tracks that lead us to beautiful viewpoints.
We stop by the roadside, and the guide shows me the cliff where natural beehives are hanging—it’s quite fascinating. Beekeepers have to climb the cliff to collect the honey; what an acrobatic feat to get there!
We continue along the track, which takes us to a large, clean picnic area—it’s really pleasant.
We cross the pink bridge and follow the path that leads us near a waterfall in a small gorge. Too bad the trail doesn’t go any further; I would’ve loved to hike for the day.
Back at the car, we continue to the village of Poilwa. In this valley, the houses have electricity but no phone service. It’s hard to believe that in this day and age, you still can’t get a phone signal here.
We take a track that passes by the Poilwa sheep farm.
The site has become a popular attraction thanks to its landscapes.
A sign points to Hepuidoi, and we arrive at a large, rolling meadow with views of the mountains and forest.
I get out and spot a group of people who’ve set out a row of large pots. Curious, I approach them—they’re organizing a massive picnic, and all the dishes look delicious. They invite me to join them, but this morning at the guesthouse, they packed our picnic, which won’t be nearly as tasty, and I can’t just abandon the guide. What a shame!
The rhododendrons are in bloom here, and they’re actually trees—impressive!
We turn back and stop at the farm. The guide has me hop over the fence, and we go meet the couple who live here. The area is hilly, with sheep roaming freely.
On one side, there are houses, and lower down, a large, sprawling barn where the sheep spend the night on one side, and the other side is used to store rice and potatoes.
Before heading back, we go see another viewpoint facing Khonoma. The village is quite spread out, and the guide points out the guesthouse in the distance. The day in nature has been really enjoyable.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Wednesday, April 2nd
I’m heading out for the day again with the guide and the taxi.
We’re visiting Khonoma, starting with the ethnic museum. It’s very large, but the exhibits aren’t well highlighted. The lighting through the display cases creates reflections, so photos aren’t great.
You can see traditional clothing from different tribes, along with jewelry, weapons, and pottery.
Here are the tattoos from different tribes, and you can recognize the Konyak tattoo from the photo on my profile.
We continue to the large Baptist church, which is built on a hill and overlooks the town.
The interior is rounded with benches all around, a few stained-glass windows, and paintings of biblical scenes.
We head to the site of the Hornbill Festival. The hornbill is the emblem of Nagaland and symbolizes bravery. The hornbill’s feather represents prestige and honor among the Nagas. The bird is symbolically depicted on all traditional headgear worn during the festival. Elephants and tigers are also represented.
The *morungs* (youth dormitories) are all different depending on the tribe.
After the picnic, we visit the Khonoma War Cemetery, which is very well maintained. This cemetery dates back to World War II and holds the graves of British and Indian soldiers killed by the Japanese.
The view of the town is interesting.
Some young girls are dressed in traditional attire, posing for photos—it’s a strange idea to take pictures in a cemetery. Once the session is over, they change back into their regular clothes and head out.
Before heading back, we visit the market where they sell grilled bees and beehives.
Farther along, there are live toads and large, wriggling larvae. The woman selling them offers me a taste, but no thanks—my grimace makes her laugh.
We take the road back to Kohima while listening to French songs the driver added to his playlist for me—so sweet!
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Thursday, April 3
I leave the homestay at 9:30 AM and return to Khonoma by taxi. Upon arrival, a shared taxi is about to leave, so it takes my bag, puts it on the roof, I get in the car, and we set off. This driver goes slower than the one on the way there.
We arrive in Dimapur, and the stop is in the station parking lot, which is close to the hotel I walk back to. The staff welcomes me warmly with big smiles and puts me in a room next to the one I had last time.
Once settled, I head to the station to check the train schedule for the next morning. It’s indeed at 9:10 AM and doesn’t require a reservation.
Today, the city is livelier, and I take the opportunity to browse the local craft shops. The temptation is strong, but the trip is still long, and my bag is heavy, so I stay wise.
As I continue my walk, I spot a covered market, and I can’t resist taking a look. So many surprises await me, but not knowing what they are, I head in confidently.
Vegetables sit alongside more or less large toads—now I’m "used to it"—and slugs are also well represented.
This market spans three rows. I’m at one end and head to the third row, where I see fruit stalls. I pick a few mandarins and two mangoes.
I see and hear chickens and roosters in the middle aisle. I walk past a red meat stand without paying attention and head straight to see the chickens. Before I get there, I stop short—my heart races, and I can’t believe my eyes. With a mix of surprise, disgust, and fear, I approach the cages slowly. It’s not a vision; they’re really white mice in cages above guinea pigs.
The vendor looks amused. I step back nervously—yes, I have a panic fear of mice—and ask if they eat them. With a big smile, he nods, says it’s very good, and tries to sell me some. No thanks, but I’m still in shock. Disgusted, I take the exit, skirting that aisle.
I come back to the red meat and this time, I pay attention, wondering what animal it could be. I think it’s a sheep, but no, that’s not it. I see legs sticking out of a basin and ask the vendor.
"Dog," sorry, I ask again, "dog?" Yes, dog. Oh no, really? Mice now dogs—where am I? I look at all the basins, and in the last one, there’s even a head.
In burlap sacks, tied up, I see dogs waiting for the slaughterhouse.
I leave with my hands on my head. Never, never would I have imagined that people eat like this in India. In Vietnam, I knew they ate dog, but in India? It seems unreal. This country will always surprise me.
On my way out, I come across a basket-weaving shop. They’re beautiful, but a bit bulky to bring back to France.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Another amazing trip and a fantastic travel journal! You were so lucky to see a tiger that close...
... And I was also really surprised to see all those animals at the market—mice and dogs! Even in Vietnam, where you see tons of animals of all kinds in markets, I’ve never seen dog heads displayed like that or dogs waiting to be killed... Poor things, it’s awful. I didn’t think that happened in India.
Last winter, in Varkala, Kerala, we often had lunch at a restaurant run by people who looked really Vietnamese, but they told me they were from Nagaland... (They didn’t serve dog, thank goodness!) So they were definitely Indian... but really had that Southeast Asian look. Did you notice that too?
Anyway, thanks, Marie Jo, for this story...
Anne
Mes récits de voyages : www.unendroitoualler.fr
"Last winter, in Varkala, Kerala, we often had lunch at a restaurant run by people who looked really Vietnamese but told me they were from Nagaland... (They didn’t serve dog, by the way!!!). So they were indeed Indian... but really had that Southeast Asian look. Have you noticed that too?"
Hi Anne,
Thanks for joining us!
I was surprised no one reacted to that market and all the food they eat in that part of Nagaland. It’s only around Dimapur and Kohima-Khonoma.
Indeed, in Nagaland, they have a Southeast Asian appearance. Later, when you visit Mon, Myanmar isn’t far, and you won’t feel like you’re in India anymore. Nagaland is so unique and fascinating to visit—the hospitality in Assam, Nagaland, and Meghalaya is incredible.... I’ll post more soon; I don’t have much Wi-Fi right now, so I’m not making much progress... hopefully tomorrow! 🌍😊
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Friday, April 4
The train is on time, and it’s already quite crowded inside. Still, I manage to find a seat easily—doors and windows are open, so we’re nicely ventilated.
We pass by tea plantations dotted with shade trees, and it’s always beautiful seeing all those greens blending together in nature.
This train stops often, and the smells from the latrines spread through the carriage. I can’t wait to get moving again—once we’re rolling, the odors disappear. My fellow travelers are friendly. We make a stop that lasts a good hour, and the long delays continue until Bhoji, where I get off with a two-hour delay. I’m exhausted. I take a rickshaw to the Majestic Hotel in Sonari. The hotel is run by a very welcoming young couple. A small room (1400 rs) will do for the night. The restaurant is open, and I go to grab a bite since breakfast feels like ages ago, and I’m starting to get hungry. I’m so tired that I go to bed at 9 PM and fall asleep quickly.
Saturday, April 5
After a good breakfast, I leave the hotel in a tuk-tuk that takes me to where the sumo is supposed to depart. Today, it’s not running because there’s a festival in Mon. I have to go to Tiznit, a few kilometers away. The tuk-tuk, with its electric car, can’t make the trip, so the driver takes me to one of his colleagues. We pass by tea plantations again—it’s always impressive to see all these vast stretches. Along the road, I see people dressed in traditional attire.
We arrive in Tiznit at 9:20 AM, and there I learn that because of the festival in Mon, there’s only one car leaving at 11:30 AM. Oh no, I’m so disappointed—it’s the last day of the festival, and I won’t be able to attend. I tried to book a room at the homestay before Christmas, but it was already fully booked until today. I couldn’t find any other accommodation, and now I don’t have transportation.
In the end, there are a lot of us waiting for the car, and the driver decides to leave at 10:30 AM. There are 10 adults plus the driver and 3 kids on their moms’ laps. Safety standards here are very different from France. The driver stops often during the trip to add water to the radiator. Will we make it safely? That’s the question I ask myself at every stop. Tiznit is 35 km from Mon, and it takes us an hour and a half to get there. When I get out of the car, I find a taxi that takes me to Aihan Homestay. The owners are away for the week, but the staff member who welcomes me is very kind and does his best to help. The festival is over 4 km away, and I have to take a tuk-tuk to get there. The caretaker accompanies me to the village center to find a taxi. On the main road, a car with a young couple stops next to me and offers me a ride to the festival. I’m thrilled, and we speed off, but there are so many people heading to the same place that we waste a lot of time finding a parking spot. Time is flying, and with the traffic jams, the woman suggests I get out and walk to the festival—and she’s absolutely right. I never saw them again.
The first performance of the afternoon is already over.
Two groups of women in different outfits are sitting under the tent.
Here too, there are morungs—they’re different from those in Khonoma, and today they’re full of people. I can take photos, and with the festival atmosphere, everyone is happy to pose with a smile. A small group of men is gathered around a fire.
Some younger men are playing wooden drums.
Outside, I can’t resist photographing these men in their unique outfits and jewelry.
There aren’t many tourists here—I counted about ten under the open-air tent. Once again on this trip, I’m experiencing an extraordinary and unique moment.
I see different troupes parading, and they go to set up under the tent.
The show is about to start again, so I follow the crowd and look for a spot with a good view.
Each tribe has different outfits, and it’s amazing to be part of this event.
The women dance barefoot, some carry rifles and aren’t afraid to use them—they fire toward the ground while jumping. I hope they’re using blanks—it makes a lot of noise and kicks up dust.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
A storm hits us around 4 PM and lasts for quite a while. Most of the spectators head back to their vehicles, but I take shelter in a morung and hesitate to leave. Once the rain stops, I go back outside, and a man in a car steps out with a bottle of water and a carton of fruit juice to offer me. He tells me to stay because the festival will resume, and if I can’t find a ride back after the show, he’ll take me to Mon. What an incredible welcome—I head back to the tent with peace of mind. Several people are photographing the seated troupes, so I grab my camera and do the same.
Men begin with rifles in hand
Several dances happen at the same time. A group of men takes the stage and lets out cries like New Zealand’s haka—it’s impressive.
Women are also present
The tattooed men let themselves be photographed today without charging.
After the show, I head back to the car, but the driver is gone. A woman nearby spots me and calls me over—she wants selfies. We take several photos, and she offers to drive me back to Mon, where they live. I ask if the festival will happen tomorrow, Sunday, but no—it’s over because Sunday is a sacred day, so everything is closed. People go to church and stay home.
Back in my room, I message the owner to ask if I can get a guide and a car to explore the region tomorrow. Well, since no one works on Sundays, I’m stuck in Mon. Sunday evening, a guide will come by the house, and we’ll plan Monday’s day.
Tonight, the power goes out, making the evening feel long, even though a bulb runs on battery power.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
Hi there, I’m still following your story with interest...
When we went to Myanmar, in the mountains to the west near the border with India, we saw women with their faces fully tattooed... Not the men, and on the Nagaland side, it’s apparently the men who are tattooed.
Good luck with the rest of your trip...
Anne
Mes récits de voyages : www.unendroitoualler.fr
Sunday, April 6
I had a good night’s sleep but woke up super early. The power still hasn’t come back on, and my phone’s dead.
Akai, the housekeeper, brings me a thermos of hot water and shows me the terrace. A little later, he returns with my breakfast—two fried eggs, milk tea, and three bananas. I ask for toast, but he’s out, and since it’s Sunday, all the shops are closed. I start eating, and soon he comes back, beaming—he managed to find me two slices of toast. Better than nothing!
A bit later, Akai returns with a special multi-socket adapter for charging batteries. I’m saved—I can finally recharge my phone!
Since everything’s closed today, I decide to visit the church. I leave around 9:30 AM, and I’m not the only one—there are *so* many people. The courtyard is packed with cars, and the underground parking beneath the church is full too.
Everyone’s dressed in their Sunday best. At the entrance, churchgoers hand envelopes to two people sitting behind a table. I squeeze in and stay at the back, but soon, people sitting nearby wave me forward so I can see better. The church is even bigger than the one in Kohima—same rounded style with a second floor. It slowly fills up, and the crowd is impressive.
I came just to visit, but now I’m stuck—everyone’s seated and praying. A man steps up to a podium and starts listing donors’ names and amounts. It goes on *forever* since almost everyone arrived with an envelope. Several people take turns at the podium. Then, a choir and musicians perform three pieces. After that, the men go back to listing donors—it never ends.
Finally, the mass begins. Everyone has a missal and sings along with the choir and musicians. Prayers follow one after another, and for me, it’s *so* long. The service is broadcast on a big screen for those upstairs. Next to me, people are following along on their phones. I might’ve dozed off a little, but at 12:30 PM, the first people start leaving, and I follow them—I can’t take any more. Outside, locals head home in a quiet line, no chitchat, no bars open for an apéritif like I remember from childhood. I don’t even know how it is back home now.
I desperately look for an open restaurant or grocery store, but everything’s shut. Nagaland is *so* different from the rest of India—I feel like I’ve stepped into another country since arriving here.
I go back to the house to grab my now-charged phone (still no power, though). I head out again, searching for something to snack on—I’m starving. I walk to the market and find a man waiting on the sidewalk. I ask where I can get lunch, but the answer’s the same: today’s Sunday, everything’s closed. He thinks for a moment and takes me to a shop. We go behind the counter, and I manage to buy water, chips, and biscuits. Better than nothing.
In the evening, the guide comes by as planned, and we plan the next two days’ visits. I won’t be able to see all the villages I’d noted—the distances are too far, and the roads aren’t great. The guide tells me that photos of tattooed men cost 100 Rs per person, and in the village, as soon as they spot a tourist, they gather in groups of four or five to pose. 500 Rs for photos is *way* too much. Neither the guide nor I like the idea, so we decide to skip that village.
The guide needs to check about booking my next sumo to Mokokchung, and it doesn’t sound easy.
Dinner’s another story—still no power or Wi-Fi, and the day’s been *long*. Tonight’s menu: tough pork, cauliflower, and rice. Finally, a vegetable that’s not potatoes!
No electricity, so bedtime at 9 PM.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
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This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
Summer 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, so here I am back in Swedish Lapland for summer 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my partner Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which is, from what we’ve read, stunning but very busy (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last true wilderness—sounds like a dream, right?!
The downside of this plan is that there’s no way to resupply in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long-distance trekking either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part of the trip with Sarek in mind. Oh well, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (the classic route), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official trail and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before reaching Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to bail on Sarek.
All in all, that’s 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day and 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our fully packed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides we used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
08/16 – Camping at Skarja
08/17 – Ruohtesvagge
08/18 – Ruohtesvagge - Padjelantaleden
08/19 – Padjelantaleden - Ritsem – End of the trek
08/20–24 - End of the trip (Lullea - Stockholm)
And of course, the recap
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
I'm starting my first travel journal since VF reopened!
This will mostly be to share my impressions and some photos, with a few days' delay, but I'm starting this journal while I'm still here.
First, I'd like to thank those who helped me prepare for this trip.
I was able to organize this stay in one of the most expensive countries in the world thanks to the home-exchange principle. Not necessarily a direct swap, but through a points system, which is more practical for choosing where you want to go without it having to be a reciprocal exchange.
For this trip, there will already be two different accommodations. We'll see how it goes after that.
The first place is near Yverdon-les-Bains, close to Lake Neuchâtel.
So, we're going to explore this area!
We arrived under capricious weather that won’t leave us for the next few days!
We had dinner at a pizzeria recommended by *Le Routard* in Yverdon, then took a little nighttime stroll through the town center before heading inland to settle into our accommodation.
We discovered a very large, quiet house—and especially the cat that stayed behind! Funny for a couple of mice! He’ll be sleeping with us 😹
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
This travel journal summarizes a trip I took in March to Argentine and Chilean Patagonia. It starts in El Calafate and ends in Ushuaia. During my planning, I considered looking into the Australis cruise from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, as well as the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. In both cases, I was put off by the prices. Instead of the cruise, I found two interesting wildlife excursions from Punta Arenas: whale watching in the Strait of Magellan and observing king penguins in Tierra del Fuego. The journey to Ushuaia was by bus. For Torres del Paine, things were a bit confusing, so I reached out to two agencies. In the end, I went with a rental car option, overnight stays on-site, and day hikes. I shared my full itinerary with the agency and ended up being taken care of by a local Argentine agency and a Chilean one.
So, here we go...
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
From Southern Shikoku, between land and sea, to the blue waters of Miyakojima and finally Tokyo’s megacity
Hi everyone,
I have to admit, I really hesitated before deciding to write this travel journal... Writing one takes a lot of time and energy, and since this is my 4th trip, I wondered if it would even interest anyone other than myself (both for the discovery and the writing). But after a few people asked, "Are you going to write a journal?" and especially after rediscovering the joy of reading other travelers’ journals about Japan or elsewhere on this forum, I’ve decided to share my 4th installment in the Land of the Rising Sun here.
The itinerary:
27 full days, from late May to late June 2025, right in the middle of the rainy season, including:
-->13 days in Shikoku, from Kochi (Kochi Prefecture) to Matsuyama (Ehime Prefecture)
-->7 days in Miyakojima (Okinawa Prefecture)
-->7 days in Tokyo
The trip was decided on fairly last-minute again this year.
Since I regularly check flight prices to track fluctuations for this destination even without concrete plans, stumbling upon a slightly cheaper direct flight (900 €) than what I’d seen in previous months (around 1,200–1,400 € on average) for a Paris-Tokyo route with Japanese airline ANA was too tempting to resist the urge to return to this enchanting country. After much hesitation between exploring the San’in region (Matsue, Tottori, Yamaguchi) and Southern Shikoku, the decision was made—I took the plunge! The ticket is booked: Paris to Kochi with a layover in Tokyo, all with ANA, the airline I’d been dreaming of... for 1,120 € per person. Okay, it’s not cheap, but it’s better than in 2023.
Departure in 2 weeks! Now I just have to get everything ready!
Intense prep work over these next 2 weeks to:
finalize a more precise itinerary and reach an agreement—yep, because even though we both love Japan, our preferences differ slightly, and we have to choose between exploring new places or revisiting beloved spots...
decide how much time to spend in each area without rushing while still exploring
research places that might interest us and watch videos about Japan
book accommodations: yes, it’s possible to do this on the spot, but last year, we realized that last-minute options were pretty expensive, so we’re booking ahead—though we’ll keep a few options open in case better deals pop up later
reserve rental cars
order yen
check the weather regularly and wonder if choosing the *tsuyu* (rainy season) was really a good idea—are we going to be drenched the whole time???
"What hard work," you might say! Going to Japan for a month—what a tough life!
Despite this being my 4th trip, the excitement is just as intense as the first time.
The only small downside is that when we booked the flight, there weren’t many seats left, so we’re only sitting together on the international return flight. Plus, on the way there, we have middle seats.
Another lingering question: what French-language films will be available? According to the internet, the selection seems limited.
Oh well, these are just minor details—it’s already time to fly!
PS: I’ll be posting slowly and irregularly... so for those interested, be patient, and maybe set an alert...
Kattegat isn’t just the name of the village in the TV series *Vikings*—it’s also the stretch of water separating Denmark from Sweden... the sea, basically! And further north, you’ve got Norway and its fjords!
Originally, I’d planned to just do a loop around Kattegat, with the *Under* restaurant in Lindesnes as our anniversary treat... but along the way, we thought, why not "push" a little further north, keeping an eye on the budget since we’d chosen to travel by car in June 2025 through Scandinavia.
Why by car when most travelers opt for a camper van, while others prefer the comfort of cruises?
Well, because we don’t own a camper van, renting one is pricey, and then you’ve got to add fuel costs (those things guzzle gas!), ferry fees, and other "tolls." All things considered, we went for mostly rentals—especially since there were four of us at the start of the trip.
We spent the first week in Denmark with our daughter and son-in-law. Then they flew back to Belgium, and we continued our adventure as a couple.
For accommodation, we mainly booked Airbnb apartments, which helped keep costs down and, most importantly, let us prepare our own meals (diet, diet!).
In this travel journal, you’ll discover (or rediscover, for those who followed my older ones) our unbridled love for theme parks, museums, unique experiences, and—especially in Denmark—Legos!
Unfortunately, we didn’t do any hikes this year because the unpredictable weather had made the trails slippery, and since I’d already taken three tumbles during the trip, I didn’t want to risk another!
In the end, we traveled for 32 days, covered 6,200 km, and most importantly, discovered the charming country of Denmark, marveled at Norway’s breathtaking fjords—all without suffering the heatwave that hit France and Belgium that June!
If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉