MARRAKECH, délices et délires de la Ville Rouge(1)
Toussaint à Paris, Bleu à Marrakech…La recette est à trois heures de Lyon( décalage horaire compris)…
Vous quittez Lyon sous les brumes d’Automne avec un petit 10° et, trois heures après, vous débarquez au pays des mille et une nuits avec un 21° à 11 heures du soir…
Dommage que des milliers d’européens aient eu la même idée qu’Ulysse…du type de ces petits vieux distingués, pull bleu pâle pour lui, cachemire rose fushia pour elle, qui pestent contre la bureaucratie policière tatillonne et exemplaire, tout en grignotant insensiblement ma place dans la file d’attente…
Cà y est : il va pouvoir récupérer ses valises avant qu’on ne lui les vole…il marcherait presque sur Berthe, qu’il oublie au contrôle de police et qui crie : « Jean, Jean !! » attends moi »
Ulysse mentalement fait le calcul : la queue policière d’une demi-heure est l’équivalent de quatre cents kilomètres du Boeing 737-80 dont il vient de débarquer : péril de cette très belle et très fragile société de consommation où Berthe et Jean, pétris de certitudes et d’argent, viennent partager le soleil des marrakchi…
Heureusement, Ulysse a hâte de replonger dans cette ville où jusqu’à lors, il n’a fait que transiter : il choisira le plus pauvre des taxis, la voiture la plus brinquebalante dont les vitres n’ont plus d’usage, il ne négociera même pas le prix de nuit : touriste de base, il est, émerveillé de quitter ses petites misères européennes et de respirer si vite cette odeur d’Afrique qu’il n’a jamais quittée.
Rentrer dans Marrakech de nuit est un plaisir à nul autre pareil : Ulysse ouvre grand les yeux et respire une odeur d’Atlas, de désert et de fuel mélangés…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Ulysse était arrivé de nuit dans la Ville Rouge et n’avait pas choisi le quartier de son hôtel…au petit matin, il découvrit la ville nouvelle : le quartier du Guéliz, quartier dessiné par un architecte de Lyautey en I932…au-delà des remparts de la Médina…
Qu’à cela ne tienne, il avait vu sur « la gare de Marrakech », don de M6(Mohamed VI) à son peuple, véritable palais moderne offert aux clients de l’Office national des chemins de Fer marocains(ONCF)…
M6 a promis en I999 de se consacrer à 3 chantiers prioritaires : l’analphabétisme, la pauvreté et le statut de la femme…
Ulysse, qui vient souvent au Maroc, ne peut que constater que le Maroc n’est qu’un immense chantier et là, il y a là, résumée, toute l’ambition royale : un palais de marbres et de zelliges, qui reprend les fondamentaux de l’architecture arabo-andalouse, mais qui n’oublie pas le XXI ème siècle( les centres commerciaux géants de Miami ou d’Abu-dhabi…)
Là, tout est réuni, avec l’espace en plus : car l’architecte a travaillé dans le cadre de la splendide esplanade de l’avenue Hassan II : à deux cents mètres, le somptueux théâtre royal, à cinq cents mètres la Grande Poste du Guéliz et la place de la Liberté…
A l’intérieur de la « Gare », tout est réuni pour le service de l’ »usager » ou du « client » de l’ONCF : on passe d’un bureau de poste à une banque, d’un office de tourisme à une agence de voyages, d’une sandwicherie à un Mac do, il y a même une galerie à l’étage couverte de restaurants à terrasse….
Beaucoup de policiers et d’agents de surveillance pour protéger l’endroit fraîchement inauguré et nettoyé heure par heure, mais le public semble apprécier, les Marrakchi viennent à la gare de Marrakech le dimanche comme on va au supermarché…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉Voici un excellent carnet, qui démarre bien, en récits et en images.
La gare est somptueuse, plus belle que celles de chez nous.
Bon, j'attends la suite du voyage;
🙁Est-ce que la prison où a été détenue la famille du militaire, qui tentait un renversement du Roi du Maroc à une époque, est visible pour les visiteurs?
Où était-elle située exactement?
J'ai lu les deux livres, d'une des filles, "La prisonnière " suivie de "l' Etrangère, qui révèlait la dureté du régime de l'époque.
Celà a-t-il changé politiquement à l'heure actuelle, ?
tu vas vite en besogne, mon bon georges, et tu me bouscules dans mon cahier à spirales...je ne te parlerai que de ce que je vois ou peux voir, de mes impressions de voyage...certes, j'ai lu comme toi les ouvrages de Gilles Perraud, par contre, dimanche, j'ai pu voir s'organiser les services de police et de l'armée, en prévision du célèbre derby "CASA-MKH", et je peux t'en parler, comme celle de ma recherche des gibets du célèbre sultan Ahmed le doré ou de ceux de Al-Mansour...
aujourd'hui, on ne parle plus que du célèbre "Royal Al-Mansour"...
Les gibets et les escargots de la Place Jemaa-El-Fna (3)
Quand on vient depuis dix ans de façon régulière au Maroc et que l’on ne connaît de Marrakech que son aéroport (MENARA), que l’on a lu un peu sur l’ancienne capitale des royaumes disparus ( Les Alaouites ayant choisi RABAT) mais que l’on lit VF assidûment avant de partir…
On choisit de découvrir la Ville Rouge au pied du Mont TOUBKAL(4167 m) à partir de son point névralgique : la Place Jemaa-El-Fna, place où avec la porte AGNAOU, on exposait il y a fort longtemps les têtes et les corps des suppliciés…
D’ailleurs, Ulysse, avant toutes choses, s’empressera de rechercher les traces des gibets et des anfractuosités des murs où les têtes étaient exposées…quel dingue d’ « archéologue, cet Ulysse »…
Il les trouvera plus loin à la porte AGNAOU…
Aujourd’hui, il y a un match de foot entre CASA et MARRAKECH…les petits supporters, venus de toutes parts, ont dormi sous les arcades des banques et de la poste située sur la célèbre place…
Dès l’aube, la police et des forces militaires les chassent, sans trop de violence, des cartons où ils dorment encore…
Ils gagnent, les yeux pleins de sable, le stade de l’avenue Mohamed V (cf. .photo)…
On va pouvoir nettoyer la Place et préparer les étals des restaurateurs d’escargots… des montreurs de serpents… des magiciens… des Oudini locaux… des orchestres Gnaouas(originaires de la région d’Essaouira), mais , comme on est dimanche, la place se réveille lentement…(cf.photo)
Il fait encore frais à la terrasse du Café Glacier, les routards et les routardes, harnachés de leurs 80 litres (duvets et matelas de mousse compris) prennent leurs petits déjeuners au Café TOUBKAL (recommandé par le guide du même nom)…
Les cars de touristes déverseront bientôt leurs cargaisons d’hispano-deutcho-franco-italo européens, éblouis par le soleil de l’Afrique, leurs guides déguisés en habit traditionnel pour donner plus d’authenticité à leurs commentaires…
Ils regagneront le Club MED à pied (côté EST de la Place) ou iront rejoindre l’hôtel de leur tour-opérateur au Quartier de l’Hivernage (bus obligatoire)…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉Comme tu le dis, super reportage qui nous laisse attendre la suite.
On s'y croirait au Maroc, on y vit, on y respire, et même j'ai cru à un moment que les rayons du soleil venaient réchauffer mom jardin, pris dans les brumes de l'hiver.
Merci pour les éloges de la script du précédent carnet marocain(cf. Marocco : mythes et réalités) dommage que ton emploi du temps ne t’ai pas permis de participer à ce tournage.
Un machino m’a dit que tu tournais « à la poursuite du Rif en Or » jusqu’au 9 novembre…
Pas mal de participants du précédent tournage n’ont pu se libérer pour un temps si court : Lakalo était prise par une semaine de tournage intense sur « Mes deux douars »,
Roberta jouait à porte fermée au Riad Opale : « charmes et délices d’un Riad Marrakchi »
Et Larab2cervis continue « Horloges bleues sur Chaouen »…
A l’heure où je t’écris, j’ai regagné l’Europe et ses frimas : la température à Marrakech-Menara était de 28°, la température au sol à Lyon Saint Exupéry était de 6°, on annonçait des chutes de neige sur les Vosges à partir de 500 mètres…
Les conditions de tournage ont été périlleuses pendant la semaine de la Toussaint…j’étais le 8.900.001 nième touriste étranger et non-résident dans l’ancienne capitale du Rif et Hillary Clinton avait choisi cette semaine-là pour traiter de « la bonne gouvernance » du conflit israélo-palestinien…(Mamounia accès réduit jusqu’à jeudi)
Outre les chauffeurs de bus, passablement énervés, et les mobylettes se développant au rythme des acariens en milieu chaud et humide, j’ai d’ailleurs découvert un nouveau métier à Marrakech : « gardien de parc de scooters et de mobylettes »…il a fallu tourner ce dernier carnet dans les limites du raisonnable, mais je crois que tu ne seras pas déçu…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Oui c'est toujours bien écrit. Marrakech est la ville de mon enfance. Mon père étant né à Oujdah, tout le monde s'est retrouvé à Marrakech, dans une villa du Bd Mansour Eddabhi. Quand mon père s'est marié avec ma mère pure berrichonne, nous les enfants sommes nés à Toulouse. Mais moi j'allais souvent voir mon oncle et ma tante pendant toutes les vacances à Marrakech. C'était un petit paradis à l'époque, pour moi avec mes yeux d'enfants. La place Djemaa-El-Fna, avec ses montreurs de serpents qui me faisait peur. A part ça je courais partout avec ma nounou, qui en avait plein les babouches de marcher ou courir partout. Le soir on allait diner sur cette place de bonnes brochettes au Cumin et coriandre. Je me repaissais de toutes les bonnes odeurs des parfums, des épices, de l'odeur du désert aussi, pas loin. Oui Tomas tu me fais revivre un peu de mon Marrakech d'antan. Merci
merci Thomas
j'ai beau aller souvent au Maroc
je n'ai pas ton talent pour transcrire ces merveilleux moments !
"les odeurs d'Atlas , de désert et de fuel mélangés " me manque , merci de me les faire ressentir .
francia
le mérite d'un homme réside dans sa connaissance et dans ses actes et non point dans la couleur de sa peau ou de sa religion!
Khalil Gibran
il aurait pu poursuivre les fouilles près de la Kouba...
c'est ce qu'il a fait...tu verras dans le récit qui suit, il n'a pas pourtant pu poursuivre son voyage vers les colonnes du djerb ajjama ben salah, tant les sirènes de la rue boussounine l'ont attiré...mai tu verras, si tu suis ce carnet, que le brave Ulysse a fait un long voyage...
La Koutoubia ou la légende de l’épouse infidèle :
La Koutoubia (mosquée des musées) domine Marrakech de son minaret de 77 mètres (plus haut que la Giralda de Séville)…
En haut du Minaret, quatre boules de cuivre surmontent le dôme et vous narguent de n’importe quel quartier, le jour comme la nuit (cf. photo)
Une légende prétend que ces fameuses boules de cuivre furent fondues dans l’or des bijoux d’une épouse infidèle d’Abd El Moumen, le sultan almohade grand bâtisseur…
Ulysse aime les petites histoires « people » à l’intérieur de la grande Histoire, comme l’erreur que commirent les architectes de cette mosquée au XII me siècle, qui ne l’orientèrent pas exactement en direction de la Mecque :
On détruisit le premier édifice pour en construire un second à l’identique, celui-ci bien orienté…
L’histoire ne dit pas si les têtes des architectes furent exposées à la Porte AGNAOU…ce qui est bien probable…
Autre curiosité archéologique qui passionnera les amateurs de vieilles pierres : le palais El-Badi (l’incomparable) (cf.photo)
En I578, un sultan saadien battit à plates coutures les envahisseurs portugais, et, bien avant notre Roi Soleil, construisit en commémoration un Palais des Rois des Rois qui devait être le plus somptueux des Royaumes Arabes…
Le destin de ce Palais fut fatal : dix ans après sa finition, les alaouites prirent le pouvoir et déshabillèrent le somptueux édifices de ses marbres pour habiller leurs palais de MEKNES…
De l' « l’incomparable », il ne reste qu’un vaste champ de briques poussiéreuses et de grands bassins vides…Seules les cigognes nichent encore dans les harems désertés… (Photo)
Ulysse mesura alors la profondeur d’une citation d’un bouffon de AL-MANSOUR : « l’archéologie peut aussi être l’étude d’un gros tas de pierres… »
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
"les odeurs d'Atlas, de désert , et de fuel mélangées, me manquent"
les contacts aussi, la parole, le sourire...toutes choses que l'on ne vend pas...
AbdelAtif, le gardien de la nouvelle gare, et Nadia, la vendeuse de la boutique Majorelle (5)
Marrakech vaut le détour, certes, mais ne serait rien sans le contact chaleureux des Marrakchi…non pas qu’ils vous poursuivent pour vous offrir de vous guider ou de vous vendre un flacon d’extrait de fleurs d’orangers distillées par leur épouse (sic…)
Non, c’est une gentillesse de la parole échangée…
Ainsi d’AbdelAtif, agent de sécurité de la nouvelle gare (cf.post N°3) qui s’étonne des photos que prend Ulysse d’un bâtiment inauguré il y a à peine un mois…
Ulysse lui montre les photos qu’il vient de prendre et de cette gare apparaissant dans un jardin d’Eden et parie avec lui 50 dirhams qu’il ne trouverait pas d’où avait été prise la photo…
La conversation aidant, et téléphones échangés, Ulysse et Abdelatif iront peut-être demain escalader le Mont Toubkal (4167 m) : Abdelatif a sa journée de repos et il pourra offrir à Ulysse un café avec les 50 dirhams qu’il a gagnés…
Nadia, conférencière au Musée Majorelle (Fondation Pierre Bergé et Yves Saint Laurent) (fermé pour travaux jusqu’au Ier mars prochain) se penche sur l’épaule d’Ulysse pour commenter le somptueux ouvrage consacré aux demeures successives de P.B et de YSL au Maroc (Boutique des jardins Majorelle)…
De livres d’art consacrés aux bijoux marocains à Villas tanjaoui, Ulysse l’oriente vers un collier d’ambre promis à Pénélope à son retour…
Ulysse aimait plus les emballages cadeaux de la boutique que le collier d’ambre qu’il trouvait trop « bling-bling », et, de fil en aiguille, il posa la même question à la belle conférencière : d’où avait-il pris cette curieuse photo de la Nouvelle Gare : elle trouva la solution quand elle s’aperçut que la photo avait été prise de sa chambre d’hôtel…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
bonjour Thomas
bien d'accord , c'est surtout le contact humain qui manque ici , c'est pour cela que je m'envole bientôt pour la Casamance , mais je reprendrais le récit d'Ulysse au retour ...
au fait , j'aimais bien tes tableaux aussi😉
be slama
francia
le mérite d'un homme réside dans sa connaissance et dans ses actes et non point dans la couleur de sa peau ou de sa religion!
Khalil Gibran
😉Eh, petite cachotière, tu ne nous avais pas dit que tu avais passé ton enfance au Maroc.
Le carnet de Tomas t'a effectivement rappelé pas mal de souvenirs.
je suis sûre que Collerette est allée se promener avec sa nounou, en calèche, aux jardins Majorelle...elle pourrait sans doute être une merveilleuse conteuse des mille et une nuits...
et toi, Georges, tu as dû traîner tes CAT(authentiques) pas chinoises dans les parages, à la recherche de la tombe d'YSL...
« Depuis de nombreuses années, je trouve dans le Jardin Majorelle, une source inépuisable d’inspiration et j’ai souvent rêvé à ses couleurs qui sont uniques… » Yves Saint-Laurent
Du bleu Majorelle au Guéliz : (6)
Marrakech est définitivement la ville où il faut marcher le plus possible (hormis le taxi du matin et du soir) et si vous avez la chance d’habiter le quartier du Guéliz, n’hésitez pas à franchir l’avenue Mohamed V pour suivre l’avenue Yacoub El Mansour…
Vous prenez le sens inverse des calèches chargées d’européens et vous gagnez, sur votre gauche (fléché) le Jardin de Jacques Majorelle (peintre français mort en I962)
Ce jardin et la maison du peintre ont été réhabilités par Pierre Bergé et Yves saint Laurent (le premier y prend ses quartiers d’hiver…)
Il fait encore 28° un 2 novembre dans la Ville Rouge et, franchi la porte du jardin, passé un patio avec bassin central de zelliges à jet d’eau, vous pénétrez dans un jardin exotique extraordinaire…
(Pour la description, je vous renvoie à votre guide ordinaire, Hachette, par exemple, qui est de bonne facture sur le sujet)
Ulysse se rappela en raccourci d’autres jardins extraordinaires (en Martinique : les jardins de Balata, en France, la bambouseraie d’Alès… quelques jardins extraordinaires tanjaoui…
L’étrangeté des lieux, qui fait leur insolite, est la prégnance forte de Pierre Bergé et de YSL (dont le mémorial, tambour de colonne antique au cœur de bassins et de plantes africaines, est aussi couru que la tombe de Jim Morrison au Cimetière du Père Lachaize à Paris)
Si vous choisissez d’aller visiter ce jardin au petit matin, vous éviterez les touristes et le Babel de leurs exclamations, vous pourrez alors vous recueillir sur l’exposition surprenante des aquarelles d’Yves Saint Laurent consacrées à l’amour, aux saisons et au temps qui passe…
Ne négligez pas les salons marocains du café du Jardin…on peut même y déjeuner…
Ulysse préféra le brunch du AL Jawda, 88, avenue Mohamed V : brunch authentique… (32 DH, thé, jus d’orange, salade et omelette, soit 3 euros, soit 5 dollars…)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
"et continuer, pour notre plus grand plaisir, son récit..."
salam, Lacalo,
comme tu le verras, Ulysse re rapproche insensiblement de l'office du tourisme, place Chaf-fine, pour demander sa route pour rejoindre la rue Issebatiyne , que tu connais bien et dont tu m'as vanté les terrasses...je devais d'ailleurs y faire un repérage, mais, manque de temps, paresse des chauffeurs de taxi...je ne suis jamais arrivé à Djerb Ajjana Ben Salah...
ca devait être le jour où "Hillary" bloqua la circulation de l'hyper-centre...
Où Hillary empêche Ulysse d’accéder à la Mamounia : (7)
Quand on évoque Marrakech, on évoque la Mamounia, comme à Tanger, on évoque El-Minzah, de ces grands hôtels mythiques chargés d’histoires et d’aventures (people-esques bien entendu…)
Ulysse avait choisi la semaine de Novembre où le calendrier des évènements marrakchi est le plus chargé, comme les rotations des charters à l’aéroport : les plus grands pays du monde avaient envoyé cette semaine leurs représentants les plus prestigieux pour traiter de « la nouvelle gouvernance du monde »…
Et, bien entendu, les Etats-Unis avaient délégué « Hillary » (Clinton)….
Ulysse, qui vérifiait la réalité d’une citation de Marjorie Alessandrini :
« Palmeraie et palaces : les délires et les délices de la Ville Rouge font rêver le monde entier… »(sic…)
Avait entrepris une tournée des bars prestigieux de l’hôtellerie de luxe(une spécialité de Marrakech) et sortait de boire un cocktail « mangue et menthe fraîche » à la terrasse du SAADI( Saint Pierre de Rome comparé à la sainte chapelle de son hôtel…)
Ayant échappé aux vigiles du SAADI(accès réservé aux seuls véhicules) il se vit bloqué à la porte El –DJID alors qu’il allait franchir les vigiles et les gardes de sécurité de la Mamounia, luxueux palace décoré par Jacques Garcia(décorateur français)
L’avenue EL-TETOUAKI, qui permet normalement d’accéder à La Mamounia était fermée jusqu’à jeudi…
Ulysse eut beau négocier avec les concierges de l’Hôtel, il n’obtint l’assurance de boire son prochain cocktail « banane et coriandre » qu’à partir de onze heures, jeudi matin..Dès qu’Hillary serait partie…
Où l’on vérifie qu’Hillary, une fois encore, pointe son nez dans les carnets d’Ulysse (MDR)
De mauvaise fortune, bon cœur, Ulysse choisit par défaut la terrasse du PORTOFINO pour communier dans l’illumination du minaret de la KOUTOUBIA (entre I8 et 19 h)…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
bonsoir
pénible cette Hillary , elle avait faillit me faire virer d' Aït Benhaddou il y a 10 ans ...
le village était boucler pour sa visite du ksar .
je lirais la suite depuis mon ksar de Casamance 😏
francia
le mérite d'un homme réside dans sa connaissance et dans ses actes et non point dans la couleur de sa peau ou de sa religion!
Khalil Gibran
Moi non plus, je n’ai pas encore eu le plaisir de retourner voir la Mamounia depuis sa réouverture.
Voir, c'est-à-dire y boire un thé à la menthe face à son beau jardin, car y dormir n’est pas dans mes moyens…
Les adresses mythiques restent ce qu’elles sont … elles feront toujours rêver.
Et la médina de Marrakech c’est tout cela :
Bab Jdid : la beauté, le luxe et la volupté d’un palace …
Bab Dabbagh : le choc des conditions de vie d’un autre âge des tanneurs...
Et entre ces deux extrêmes, toute cette vie de médina assourdissante mais tellement vivante où chacun a sa place, fait ce qu’il a à faire…
Ces derb bruyants pour certains par les nombreuses mobylettes qui les parcourent ( malheureusement ), ces autres derb d’habitations très calmes qui s’intriquent les uns dans les autres, comme un labyrinthe où on se perd.
Ces maisons secrètes dont on ne devine pas la beauté de l’extérieur, et si vivantes à l’intérieur.
Ces enfants qui jouent dans la rue, qui reviennent de l’école.
Ces marchands ambulants, ces marchés, toutes ces petites échoppes où chacun joue son rôle dans la fabrication d’un objet.
Ces appels du muezzin qui rythment la journée.
C’est tout cela une médina … toute cette vie enserrée dans les remparts …
J’aime la médina !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
😉D'après ta description, çà donne envie d'y aller dans cette Médina.
et la Mamounia, depuis que j'en entends parler............Combien çà coûte une simple chambre?
superbes les photos de ce carnet de Tomas, là, on commence à connaître le Maroc, et un peu de son histoire.
"toute cette vie de Medina assourdissante mais tellement vivante, où chacun à sa place, fait ce qu'il a à faire..."
salam, Lacalo,
comme Mohamed Benhassa, le maître-barbier de la rue de la Bahia?
Ben Hassa, coiffeur barbier de la rue de la Bahia :(8)
Aujourd’hui, Ulysse commence à se sentir marrakchi : certes, il prend toujours son petit déjeuner à l’hôtel, lit la presse locale avant d’acheter la presse internationale ( on trouve tous les journaux du Monde en temps réel à Marrakech…)
Mais, ce matin, après avoir fait cirer ses bottes rue Bâb Agnaou, il passe chez Ben Hassa, coiffeur à l’ancienne, dont l’échoppe procède plus de 1200 – année de l’Hégire- que des contraignantes règlementations européennes…il n’y a même pas un portrait de M6…Mohamed Ben Hassa respire le barbier de confiance…
Ulysse négocie le prix, comme il se doit, « moins cher que moins cher », sans penser à la barbe qu’il a déjà depuis deux jours…
La coupe au rasoir, la main du maître barbier suppose un long apprentissage, un art convenu de répondre aux attentes du futur coiffé.
On parle du temps, de la pluie qui ne vient pas et qui aurait du venir en octobre ; viendra-t-elle en Novembre ?...un enfant apeuré s’enfuit, échappant à sa grand-mère, refusant le ciseaux du coiffeur ou la présence insolite du francaoui…
Et dans la foulée, sans qu’il n’y prenne garde, Ulysse sera rasé à l’ancienne, plutôt deux fois qu’une, avec deux passages du savon à raser et un art du coupe-chou que même les coiffeurs portugais ont perdu…
Et puis, ce sont les oreilles, les sourcils, les narines, que Mohamed Ben Hassa rase avec tout son talent…
La grand-mère a retrouvé son petit-fils, on parle désormais en arabe de la santé des uns, du coût de la vie, de la lenteur du temps qui passe…
On décide, Inch’allah, de prendre date pour un autre rasage avant la fin de la semaine : Ulysse prend en photo le maître coiffeur et l’enfant docile (enfin !) harnaché dans le fauteuil (photo)…
Tarif des coupes BENHASSA : coupe au rasoir : 40 DH
Barbe :10 DH soit 4 euros
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Moi aussi j���ai dans ma rue le frère de Mohamed le barbier de la Bahia.
Bon je te dis tout de suite, je ne l’ai pas personnellement testé, mais je le vois tous les jours affairé avec ses clients, ou simplement à les attendre assis devant sa porte sur son petit tabouret en paille rendu plus confortable par un vieux coussin crasseux ficelé par dessus.
Il refait alors le monde avec son voisin d’en face, Zakari l’électricien qui a tout le BHV dans sa boutique de 5 m2, mais qui n’hésite pas à la fermer sur le champ dès qu’on a besoin d’un dépannage ! Service oblige !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
"entre Bab-el-Jdid et Bab er-Robb, il y a Bab Agnaou"
un petit tour à la Kasbah?
Bâb Agnaou et les tombeaux Saadiens : (9)
Ulysse est têtu : il avait vainement cherché la trace des gibets d’autrefois Place Jemaa-El-Fna…il avait le souvenir de tableaux orientalistes représentant une porte de Marrakech couvertes de têtes et de corps de suppliciés… (Delacroix ? Charles Cournauld ?)
Il retrouverait cette célèbre porte et les traces des gibets : c’était Bâb Agnaou (Porte Agnaou) la porte du bélier sans corne… (Pour la description, je vous renvoie à votre guide préféré ou à la photo jointe)
On ne peut s’y tromper, les cars des tour-opérateurs déversent sans discontinuer leurs cargaisons de bobs et de shorts aux mollets blancs… (sic…) quelques anglais photographient avec ardeur les entrelacs de grès gris-bleu de l’immense porte de la Kasbah…
Tandis qu’Ulysse cherche dans les « trous de boulins »(qui permettaient aux ouvriers-macons anciens de fixer leurs échafaudages) l’emplacement des têtes de suppliciés…
Après cette mise en bouche, à deux cents mètres d’Agnaou, les fameux tombeaux Saadiens (de la dynastie saadienne)(dynastie régnante après les almoravides et les Mérinides et avant les Alaouites, dynastie de M6) tombeaux donc très anciens,
Celui d’AHMED le DORE, de ses nombreux enfants, et de sa mère bien-aimée, la fameuse LALLA MESSAOUDA…
Pour les lecteurs rapides, il faut cependant mettre 3 étoiles au site (merveille des débuts de l’art arabo-andalou) surtout que ce site a été muré de I654 à I917 !!!!
Presque aussi fort que Pompéi, sans les cendres du Vésuve (on retrouvera cette même caractéristique plus loin à la célèbre mosquée KOUBBA BA’ADIYN…)
Ne serait-ce la pollution ravageuse des groupes de touristes et les commentaires de Babel de leurs guides polyglottes, on pourrait presque se recueillir dans ce cimetière étroit et ses mausolées au cœur de la Kasbah, que l’on n’atteint par un long couloir sombre et sinueux( passage de deux touristes de front interdit…(sic…)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
On peut dire qu' il fut bien inspiré Moulay Ismaël, de murer cet accès aux tombeaux.
Pour une fois qu'il y en a un qui ne pille pas les ouvrages du prédecesseur !
Grace à lui on peut ainsi encore les admirer de nos jours, mais mieux vaut venir, comme tu dis, avant l'arrivée des cars déversant leur horde de touristes, qui vont faire la queue une heure pour pouvoir faire la photo de "Pénélope" ( excuse moi de l'emprunt ...) dans la niche qui précède la barrière faisant fi de la beauté du lieu ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Oh oui mon cher Georges, pendant toutes les vacances scolaires je passais mes vacances dans la petite villa de mon oncle Alfred, et crois moi mes souvenirs de Marrakech sont vivaces. J'adore cette ville, même si je sais par ma fille qui y va souvent, qu'elle a beaucoup changée. Trop de touristes, on est harcelé sans arrêt, on ne reconnait plus certains quartiers refaits complètement. Mais la Mamounia est toujours là, refaite à neuf et splendide. Les dimanches, mon oncle et ma tante, nous emmenaient mes 2 cousines et moi au bar sélect de la Mamounia pour y prendre l'apéritif. Pour nous c'était de la citronnade bien fraiche parfumée à la fleur d'oranger fait maison, et mon oncle et ma tante sirotaient le cocktail à la mode de l'époque. Nous prenions l'été notre table autour de la piscine, où les effluves du jasmin venaient caresser nos narines. 2 fois par an dans un élan de générosité notre oncle nous invitait à un diner merveilleux et succulent. Une fois pour son anniversaire et une fois pour Pâques. Nous en parlions le soir au coucher, longtemps. Il fallait que ma tante se levât pour nous faire taire et nous menacer de faire avancer l'heure de la prière pour les musulmans dont le muezzin nous réveillait immanquablement. Surtout moi qui ne vivais pas dans cette ville merveilleuse à l'année. Le muezzin c'était un peu le loup ou l'ogre de chez nous. Que les musulmans ne m'en veuillent pas. Mais c'était radical, sous la moustiquaire, nous nous recouchions et nous nous endormions très vite. Jusqu'au premier appel à la prière du matin. La mosquée était près de chez nous. Lorsque je rentrais en France, j'en avais des choses à raconter. Des monts et merveilles, jusqu'aux prochaines vacances avec mes frères parfois.
😉Quelle enfance mervilleuse tu as eue, avec le parfum des jasmins, la citronnade, et cette douceur de l'orient.
Il a du t'en rester un goût de revenez y tout de même.
j'attends la suite
"il fallait que ma tante se levât pour nous faire taire"
Salam Collerette,
on dirait du "Madame Verdurin"...(MDR) ca y est, tu te lances, et tu nous racontes ton enfance à Marrakech? sympa, l'ambiance que tu as connue...je crois que tu ne serais pas dépaysée si tu faisais le pélerinage de tes moments heureux...d'ailleurs, quand Ulysse se repose de la vie trépidante de la medina, il retrouve un peu l'atmosphère que tu décris.
Marrakech : champagne-bobo : (10)
Compte tenu des écarts de températures en ce début de mois de Novembre : I6° le matin, 28° l’après-midi , Ulysse se confectionne des emplois du temps andalous :
le matin est consacré aux découvertes et aux richesses de la Ville Rouge : un palais, un mausolée, une vieille ruine de la Médina, de la Kasbah, des souks, des odeurs, des couleurs, une vie grouillante loin des 4x4 noirs et des villas enfouies…
Retour à Gueliz, la ville moderne, en début d’après-midi pour une douche et une sieste sévillane, et dès I6 heures, « les délices de la Ville Rouge sans les délires… »
Aujourd’hui, brochettes mexicaines sur les terrasses ombragées d’un des restaurants de la nouvelle gare : le CARUSO(ouvert depuis un mois, fraîcheur des produits et du service assurée)
Après la sieste : le grand café de la Poste : selon Marjorie Alessandrini : « ambiance assurée revisitée par la chic parisien » (N.O. du I9 octobre)
Selon Ulysse, la clientèle de ce grand café (cf.photo), où il faut se faire voir et être vu, est un mélange de Saint Martin en Ré au mois d’août, de vieux colons bronzés ayant choisi de terminer leurs jours au Maroc, de Messieurs « chics » accompagnés de belles jeunes femmes…
Le prix des cocktails de l’établissement y est le même que dans les principales adresses de l’hôtellerie de luxe du quartier de l’Hivernage : Four Seasons, Beach Comber, Park Hyatt, Mandarin Oriental, SAADI, Naoura Barrière, Sofitel, Méridien ans so on…
A dix heures, il est temps d’aller boire un thé à menthe au Al Jawda, avenue Mohamed V, accompagné de son échantillon de pâtisseries marocaines… ..
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Si Moulay Ismael fut bien inspiré, le grand Vizir Sidi Moussa le fut encore plus et par qui?
salam Lacalo,
je suis d'accord avec toi, mais toi qui connais si bien Marrakech, tu connais la légende de Sidi Moussa?
et de son fils et de la Bahia ?
Eros et Marrakech (11)
Figurez-vous un palais de 150 pièces au cœur de la Médina, toutes de plain pied, parce que le propriétaire des lieux est obèse…
Une courtisane favorite, quatre épouses légitimes, 24 concubines…
Il a fallu loger tout ce monde là (au XIX nième siècle, la belle fut la maîtresse de deux premiers ministres du Sultan (vizirs , disait-on à l’époque…)
On pense au Château d’Anet que Henri IV construisit pour Diane de Poitiers, à l’Elysée pour la Marquise de Pompadour, à la pyramide de PEI, dont on connaît les origines « amoureuses »…
Quant à l’architecture du Palais de la Bahia, puisqu’il s’agit de lui, de ce palais d’amour, je vous renvoie à la description qu’en donnent vos guides préférés…
On perçoit la continuité du Maroc et de l’Andalousie, le débordement des stucs et des zelliges, les plafonds de cèdres sculptés et peints, les folies de mosaïques, les jardins intérieurs, leurs fontaines, le jeu des calligraphies…
Le plus étonnant, toutes proportions gardées, ce que l’on retient de la visite de la merveille est le calme surprenant et le silence de ce palais des mille et une nuits au cœur de la médina…
Au sortir du palais, après le sas du grand parking, le visiteur est happé par les mobylettes (autre fléau dont on parlera plus loin) les ânes et leurs carrioles, les porteurs de ciments, les porteurs de farine, les livreurs de bouteilles de gaz, les charrettes de fruits et de légumes, le chantier de la poste du quartier en rénovation, un égout qui déborde et dont on évacue avec peine le trop plein…
Château d’Eros au cœur de la vie, le palais de la Bahia vaut le détour…(LOL-MDR)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
toujours tes préoccupations mercantiles...le monde des affaires ne te lâche pas?..à vrai dire, établir un budget pour un séjour dans la Ville Rouge est périlleux...et si on jouait à Jean-Pierre COFFE ou comment vivre à Marrakech avec 300 DH(30 euros...)?
Jean-Pierre COFFE ou BHL à Marrakech ? (12)
JPC arrive à Marrakech par le train de 8 heures, en provenance de Fès ou de Casablanca, qu’il avait gagné par EUROLINES…
Il doit rejoindre son hôtel qu’il a trouvé sur VF : « le Faouzi », 67, sidi Bouloukate, à 100 mètres de la place Jemaa-el-Fna (20 euros, petit dèj compris, douche dans la chambre)
Il hésite à prendre un taxi à 3 euros ou à le rejoindre à pied par l’avenue Mohamed V…
Il ira finalement à pied.
Thé à la menthe au café glacier (I euro) et jus de fruits frais sur la place(0, 30 ct d’euro)
Au Glacier, il récupère le quotidien local « Aujourd’hui » laissé par un client pressé…
Quatre heures passées aux souks, il déjeune d’une soupe ou d’une tagine aux keftas (2 euros) qu’il clôture d’un thé à la menthe au café de la Place ( 1 euro)
Le soir, il s’offrira un somptueux repas au rendez-vous des Routards (5 euros) avec une bouteille d’eau gazeuse locale(I demi-litre d’El-Oumnès à 0, 50 euros).
Soit un budget de 30 euros, hôtel compris…
Bernard-Henri L. est psychanalyste dans le VI ème arrondissement de Paris.
Son emploi du temps est très chargé…
Il a choisi de partir seul, avec le but de s’imprégner de culture arabo-berbère sous forme de « carpe diem ».
Il a acheté son voyage « clés en main » chez un voyagiste spécialisé pour le prix de I6.000 DH pour 5 jours, vols compris… soit 3200 DH par jour…
Ce prix ne comprend ni les dépenses personnelles, ni les boissons, ni les pourboires, ni les déjeuners…
BHL a emporté avec lui le NO du 19 octobre…300.000 marrakchi vivent dans la Médina, le SMIG local est à I500 DH…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
bonjour tomas,
nouveau sur ce forum, je suis étonné des écarts de prix que tu annonces dans ton poste précédent. Désireux de découvrir le Maroc, j'hésite entre le budget de 300 DH , budget basique que tu décris et le budget de 3200 Dh qui me semble celui des prestataires de services. N'y a t il pas un budget moyen qui permettrait de ne pas avoir de surprises ?
Concernant les prestations achetées en France , est il préférable de les prépayer ou d'attendre sur place pour décider de ses options.
Apparemment , à la lecture de ton carnet j'ai l'impression que l'on peut jongler entre les formules.
Merci encore de toutes ses précisions au plaisir de lire la suite de ton voyage !
😉C'était les tarifs de la Mamounia, dont j'ai tant entendu parler, qui m'intéressaient, non pas pour y aller, mais pour savoir..............
Mais BHL a oublié de m'envoyer une invitation.
il est psychanalyste?????
Je comprends pourquoi sa délicieuse compagne danse dans la troupe du Crazy horse, vivre avec un homme qui vous décortique le cerveau jour après jour, besoin d'évasion................MDR.
"j'hésite entre le budget de 300 DH , budget basique que tu décris et le budget de 3200 Dh qui me semble celui des prestataires de services. N'y a t il pas un budget moyen qui permettrait de ne pas avoir de surprises ?
Concernant les prestations achetées en France , est il préférable de les prépayer ou d'attendre sur place pour décider de ses options. "
Salam Ramès,
il est difficile de te répondre sur le premier point: Marrakech n'est pas le Royaume du Bouthan où le petit roi exige que chaque touriste dépense au moins deux cents dollars par jour...
j'ai croisé toutes sortes de touristes, ceux que l'on voit, les plus nombreux, sont les routards et les clients des voyagistes de masse...
mon post voulait simplement dire que l'on peut vivre de toutes les façons dans la ville rouge, avec les habitants et c'est très simple et peu coûteux,
sur les circuits balisés par les tour-operators(attention danger aux sur-facturations...)
on peut aussi organiser son voyage à la carte, en fonction de ses propres ressources ( ne pas tomber dans le piège des compagnies low-cost qui te proposent des A-R Lyon-Marrakech à 80 euros et qui oublient les taxes d'aéroport(104 euros...)
VF est une mine de renseignements dans la rubrique "Maroc"...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
"C'était les tarifs de la Mamounia, dont j'ai tant entendu parler, qui m'intéressaient, non pas pour y aller, mais pour savoir.............."
salam, georges,
sur les grands hôtels de Marrakech, -on en inaugure un par semaine...(LOL)- le dernier en date est le Naoura-Barrière, après le "Royal Mansour" de M6...le montant des coûts est fonction de la classification(5-4-3 étoiles...) il me semble avoir vu une échelle récente des prix, mais je n'ai retenu que celle des 3 étoiles à 50 euros...
la seule indication précise de prix est celle des cocktails de fruits, auxquels j'étais abonnés, même tarif dans la plupart des établissements de la catégorie Mamounia: 4O DH (environ 3, 6 euros) ce qui est vraiment pas cher pour des établissements de cette catégorie...
mais puisque tu plaisantes, je l'espère, je dois te dire qu'Ulysse avait déniché un hôtel encore plus surprenant que le Mamounia: c'est l'Hotel SAADI...(mille et une nuits assurées...)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉EH...................Tu ne t'ennuies pas à ce que je vois au Maroc, je suppose que les mille et une nuits impliquent des danses orientales très sexys, avec de jolies Marocaines
Ne me dis pas que lors des soirées tu n'as bu que des jus de fruits, je ne te croirai pas.
As-tu croisé Laurence d'Arabie dans un de ces halls d'hôtel style palaces?
Les femmes sont elles faciles? comme en Thaïlande ou leur religion Musulmane les tiennent -elles à l'écart de la prostitution.
Je suis intéressé de savoir.
"as-tu croisé Lawrence d'Arabie dans un de ces palaces?"
salam, georges,
figure-toi qu'Ulysse, archéologue très sage, croisait plutôt de vieilles institutrices dans sa recherche de vieilles pierres, comme tu vas le voir plus loin...
Le quartier Ben Youssef et la folie des Riad (13)
N’eût été la période de la Toussaint les 8.900.000 touristes escomptés en 2009 par le Ministère du Tourisme marocain, Ulysse aurait opté pour le Riad ou le caravansérail…(style « faouzi »)
Les riads de ses amis de VF étaient complets pour ces semaines très encombrées…
Ulysse avait opté pour la solution hôtelière, ce qui ne l’empêchait pas de sillonner les quartiers aux riads, où, derrière de lourdes portes cloutées, on trouve, comme à Tanger, à Fès ou à Mekhnès, des atmosphères marocaines de charme…
Il aimait retrouver ces parfums et ces ambiances d’Orient au café arabe (cf.photo) 184, rue Mouassine, où il s’épuisait à déguster, après avoir dégusté la fureur des souks, des cocktails de banane et de menthe, des cocktails de melons et de fraises…
Là de belles étrangères, sur des terrasses où l’on domine la médina de toutes parts et d’où l’on aperçoit les sommets enneigés de l’Atlas(à 70 Kms), jouent avec leurs PC et leurs téléphones portables…
En bas, dans la rue grouillante, Louisette et Marinette, deux vieilles institutrices férues d’art et d’histoire, débattent de l’emplacement de deux fontaines anciennes (cf.photo)
La fontaine Mouassine ou la fontaine chrob/Chouf ?....
« La Mouassine », en cours de réfection, est cachée par le linge qui sèche et les entassements baroques de mobylettes contemporaines…(cf.photo)
Louisette et Marinette auraient tant aimé qu’Ulysse les rassure et les guident au moins jusqu’à la Koubba Ba’Adiyn…
Ulysse, bon prince, se laissa faire…il les y conduisit sans réclamer un dirham… en leur montrant même les photos d’opus réticulé( technique de maçonnerie héritée de nos lointains ancêtres les romains…) qu’il avait repéré derrière la Koubba…(cf. photo)
Les deux vieilles dames débattirent longtemps avec leur guide improvisé des différents niveaux de sol, des techniques de maçonnerie utilisées, des saints vénérés de la mosquée( celui de BA ‘Adiyn)
Le marabout du lieu avait vocation à rendre fertiles les femmes stériles…il était veillé jour et nuit.
NE PAS PHOTOGRAPHIER.SVP
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Je vois que ton amour des vielles pierres t’a ramené au cœur de la médina, entre autre vers la Koubba, le plus ancien monument de Marrakech.
Si Louisette et Marinette ne t’ont pas trop fait tourner la tête, as-tu pu seulement la lever pour admirer sa coupole surprenante avec ses différents arcs intérieurs et la richesse de sa décoration, dont on ne soupçonne pas le raffinement de l’extérieur ?
A l’image de ces maisons arabes, qui sont parfois de véritables petits palais intérieurs, et que pourtant rien ne permet de soupçonner de la rue …
J’attends la suite du parcours, car il me semble que tu étais dans un quartier où il y avait beaucoup d’autres choses à montrer à Louisette et Marinette … pour le plaisir des yeux !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
"as-tu pu seulement la lever pour admirer sa coupole surprenante avec ses différents arcs intérieurs et la richesse de sa décoration, dont on ne soupçonne pas le raffinement de l’extérieur ?"
salam Lacalo,
une vieille femme acariâtre gardait jalousement le tombeau du saint, Ulysse préféra glisser dans la ruelle en contrebas derrière la koubba...en descendant de plusieurs mètres de niveau, il eut l'impression de descendre plusieurs siècles, de pénétrer au cœur même de l'ancienne Marrakech...
c'était à la fois une niche de "riads", les portes cloutées(fermées) se multiplient dans un dédale de courettes, de "traboules"(Ulysse n'oublie pas Lyon...) pas assez de petits cailloux blanc pour ne pas se perdre sur un espace de trois cents mètres de diamètre...
il fallait qu'il remonte à la surface s'il ne voulait pas se perdre...la medersa ben Youssef n'était pas loin, mais il avait eu il y a peu une indigestion de medersa à Fès...le musée de Marrakech n'était pas loin non plus....il était fermé pour cause de travaux....il n'était pas question que le roumi aille visiter la mosquée ben Youssef, il n'avait pas encore pris l'habitude de prier cinq fois par jour le grand Horloger...
Marrakech ayant sept saints patrons, il avait visité le tombeau de l'un d'entre eux, il lui restait encore six sanctuaires à visiter, mais Ulysse était tombé amoureux...il hésitait à poursuivre ce parcours "du patrimoine" ou retourner "fleureter" avec Nadia, la belle vendeuse de la boutique des jardins Majorelle...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Toi l’amateur de vielles pierres et de belles choses, comment peux tu ne pas ressentir l’impétueux besoin de découvrir ce joyau, peut être un des plus beaux lieux de Marrakech ?
Indigestion !
Je rêve !
Alors que pour aller manger des cornes de gazelle à Al Jawda avec la belle Nadia on n’entend plus du tout parler d’indigestion …
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
"toi, l'amateur de vieilles pierres et de belles choses.."
salam Lacolo,
tout est dans ta formule: on peut aimer les vieilles pierres et les belles choses...voilà le dernier billet qu'Ulysse griffonna sur la terrasse de son hotel à quelques heures de prendre l'avion
Les amours d’Ulysse aux jardins Majorelle (14)
On connaît le cœur d’artichaut de l’archéologue (cf.ses précédents carnets) on n’a pas oublié ses aventures dans le Paris Lisbonne ni celle des Lacs bleus de Bavière…
A quatre heures de prendre son vol à Marrakech-Menara, il neigeait à partir de I200 mètres en France, Ulysse prenait son petit dèj sur la terrasse de son hôtel, sous les palmiers et dans les hibiscus…les journaux locaux annonçaient 26 ° en milieu de journée…
Il se demandait s’il prendrait le temps d’aller dire adieu ou au revoir à la belle bouquiniste des jardins Majorelle…
Ils avaient fleureté outrageusement « à la marocaine », avec cette façon discrète, comme aux échecs, de découvrir son jeu ou de laisser de belles ouvertures…
Quand elle lui avait montré les colliers de cœur d’Yves Saint-Laurent qu’elle préférait au collier d’ambre qu’ULYSSE aurait voulu offrir à Pénélope, elle lui avait adroitement confié qu’il pourrait revenir le jour de son départ pour acheter le collier …
Qu’il faudrait qu’il conserve son billet d’entrée de ce jour et qu’il la demande, elle serait là pour lui…
Ce qui chiffonnait Ulysse, c’est de ne pas voir Nadia dans ses véritables fonctions au Musée Majorelle fermé provisoirement pour travaux…jusque début Mars…
Elle lui confia que le maître des lieux, pierre Bergé, prenait souvent ses quartiers d’hiver et qu’il était là, derrière les murs du jardin…
Elle serait là pour lui, dans ses véritables fonctions, conservatrice au musée, dès la réouverture du musée…
Ulysse hésitait, à quatre heures de son décollage, à acheter le superbe collier YSL qui plaisait tant à la vendeuse et à l’oublier dans ses mains, gage de son retour à la réouverture du musée… toute est dans ta formule: on peut aimer les pierres et les belles choses...et Nadia était de ces dernières...voilà le dernier billet qu'Ulysse laissa sur la terrasse de son hotel à quelques heures de prendre l'avion pour les brumes du Nord...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Je sens un peu de nostalgie sur la fin de ton récit.
Aurais-tu laissé un peu de ton cœur dans cette ville ?
Si elle te laisse pénétrer dans son enceinte et si tu sais regarder, voir et croire ce que tu vois, tu ne ressors pas indemne.
Subtilement elle t’attire, t’attache, et ne te lâche plus.
C’est cela Marrakech, une façade un peu racoleuse pour le touriste de base qui la parcourt à toute vitesse, mais tellement d’autres richesses cachées.
Ville de contrastes.
Subtil mélange de rudesse et de douceur, de couleurs et d’odeurs.
Où le bruit des klaxons est couvert par l’appel du muezzin.
Où les odeurs des pots d’échappement font place aux doux parfums des épices.
Où le bleu-majorelle tranche avec l’ocre des murs de la ville, avec les multitudes couleurs des tapis et des laines qui s’exposent.
Toute la vie de l’orient est dans cette ville.
Tu y fais de belles rencontres, du barbier du palais de la Bahia à la belle Nadia, sans exclure tous ses autres habitants qui lui donnent sa chaleur, bien loin de cette place Jemaa El Fna qui n’en est que son faire valoir.
C’est une ville qui se mérite !
Marrakech, Arnakech ? quel piteux raccourci …
Marrakech n’est pas le Maroc, loin s’en faut, mais tout l’envoutement du Maroc est dans Marrakech.
Cependant une bonne nouvelle : le musée du jardin de Majorelle devrait rouvrir ses portes en mars … et donc pousser Ulysse à revenir … pour peut-être nous livrer d’autres récits de ses prochaines découvertes sur ce pays si attachant.
Inch’Allah !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
"Je sens un peu de nostalgie sur la fin de ton récit."
On ne quitte pas le Maroc, les couleurs, les sons, les odeurs restent longtemps avec soi
Aurais-tu laissé un peu de ton cœur dans cette ville ?
Si le cœur est la mémoire, et la mémoire l’écriture, je l’ai emportée avec moi…
Si elle te laisse pénétrer dans son enceinte et si tu sais regarder, voir et croire ce que tu vois, tu ne ressors pas indemne.
Les murailles de Marrakech sont poreuses de multiples portes, il suffit de se laisser porter…
Subtilement elle t’attire, t’attache, et ne te lâche plus.
Les liens sont forts et fragiles, mais ce sont des liens…
C’est cela Marrakech, une façade un peu racoleuse pour le touriste de base qui la parcourt à toute vitesse, mais tellement d’autres richesses cachées.
Il suffit d’avoir le courage, le culot d’aller au-delà des circuits balisés…
Ville de contrastes.
Rudes contrastes, mais l’Orient demeure derrière les odeurs de fuel…
Subtil mélange de rudesse et de douceur, de couleurs et d’odeurs.
Le bruit des mobylettes n’atteint pas les portes du caravansérail
Où le bruit des klaxons est couvert par l’appel du muezzin.
Où la lenteur des bourricots freine l’insolence des engins motorisés
Où les odeurs des pots d’échappement font place aux doux parfums des épices.
Les odeurs d’épices se mêlent aux odeurs d’huile d’olive, les rouges des épices à l’ocre des façades
Où le bleu-majorelle tranche avec l’ocre des murs de la ville, avec les multitudes couleurs des tapis et des laines qui s’exposent.
Les couleurs, les odeurs et les sons se répondent
Toute la vie de l’orient est dans cette ville.
Tu y fais de belles rencontres, du barbier du palais de la Bahia à la belle Nadia, sans exclure tous ses autres habitants qui lui donnent sa chaleur, bien loin de cette place Jemaa El Fna qui n’en est que son faire valoir.
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
C'est presque de la provocation que d'être invitée, sédentaire et infatigable travailleuse parisienne, à encourager un éternel voyageur... Néanmoins, bonne route !
Salam a tous voila pour ma dissert (licence) le sujet porte sur le maroc , un des points est pour la vision 2010 du Maroc , le gouvernement s'inspire des idees du temps de la colonisation francaise, expliquez comment. avez vous ds idees vous qui avez parcouru le Maroc.Merci.Lati
salam, que veux tu dire ''ca commence mal'' ok je reformule ma question
''la renaissance du tourisme culturel (vision 2010) est souvent influencée par les idées du colonialisme français, d'aprés mon tuteur . le tourisme culturel à Marrakech s'est inspiré des mythes que la colonisation française a développé?
Ece vrai parce que je ne trouve aucune info a ce sujet, Lesquelles et comment? merci
Dommage que ce mot te brusque mais c'est bien le terme colonisation que l'on emploi dans le sujet de ma dissert et c'est bien ce qu'ont fait les francais maintenant si le mot protectorat te fait sentir moins responsable ok pas de probleme , mais je n'ai pas besoin de cours d'histoire et si tu n'as aucun tuyau a me donner concernant mon sujet laisse tomber car j'ai beaucoup de travail a rendre et peut etre qu'a un autre moment, on pourra revenir sur le sujet.
Bonne continuation
Dommage que ce mot te brusque mais c'est bien le terme colonisation que l'on emploi dans le sujet de ma dissert et c'est bien ce qu'ont fait les francais maintenant si le mot protectorat te fait sentir moins responsable ok pas de probleme
Mais tu pars loin, là! Responsable de quoi?!
mais je n'ai pas besoin de cours d'histoire
Apparemment, si...
et si tu n'as aucun tuyau a me donner concernant mon sujet laisse tomber
Nous avons fait 3 semaines de circuit au départ de Marrakech, au volant d'une Logan de location.Tout s'est très bien passé.Accueil chaleureux des Marocains,…
Histoire d'un voyage au Maroc, du premier au dernier jour sinon ça n'aurait pas eu de sens... Marrakech... puis 4 jours à pied dans le désert, seule avec un…
Dans mon précédent récit (Marrakech, nous revoilà), nous venions de quitter la petite Fatima. Je tremble de plaisir en pensant à la suite de notre voyage.…
Voici un planning des posts avec les liens pour ceux qui ne veulent pas lire tous les posts; j'en ai profité pour corriger les chiffres des étapes dans…
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 😹
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...)
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.
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.
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.
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
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... 😉