14 decembre dans un village pres de Nagarkot, a 15km de Kathmandu
voici mon recit, j'espere des reactions !
Parti en excursion a Nagarkot, rapidement fuit les hotels-resorts luxueux, je me retrouve invite a assister a une fete hindu dan sun village voisin.
Toute l’apres midi, un helicoptere circule dans les airs au dessus de la colline, s’entrainant au tir, et je sursaute a chaque detonation. Entrainement normal, presque quotidien… A cote de Nagarkot, deux collines sont occupees par les militaires, points strategiques controlant la vallee de Kathmandu, en siege depuis des annes, sans savoir si c'es par les maoistes ou par l'armee. Plus loin, a Changu Narayan, un autre camp militaire.
Entre les deux, un hameau et un temple :
A 19 heures, Suresh, 13 ans, nous emmene au temple de Kalidevi Mandir Ganesh, chacun tenant un baton d’encens, chantant des mantras en riant. Le temple est bati au sommet de la colline, autour de deux arbres percant le toit. Simple muret de brique construit en carre, les statues des divinites au centre, enterrees sous des fleurs. Couleurs jaune, orange, rouge. Chacun arbore la tika sur le front. Pour la puja, chaque famille a dispose pres des statues de petits paniers remplis d’offrandes : riz, mais, fleurs de patchouli, quelques piecettes, et une lampe a huile. De l’encens brule de partout, repandant une douce odeur. 12 flambeaux brulent en permanence devant les statues. De temps a autre tombe une pluie de grain de riz jetes pour les statues. A l’exterieur du temple, c’est kermesse ! Des stands de fruits, de momo, de the bien sur, de roxi et de chang, un haut-parleur diffuse de la musique branchouille d’Inde. 3 feux de bois crepitent sous les etoiles. 4 generations sont reunies pouir la celebration. Tout respire la Foi, millenaire, mais aussi simplement la Joie et la Vie. Les gens sont venus de tous les villages alentours, il y a foule. Vieux en kurta traditionnelle, femmes en saree indien, djeunes a la mode bad boy. Au milieu trainent une poignee de militaires en treillis et armes. Une bagarre eclate a cote, rapidement terminee. Un jeune de Bhaktapur me met en garde contre les debordements eventuels si jamais ca picolait trop. Apres quantite de the, de discussion, et des images joyeuses plein la tete, nous rentrons de nuit vers 23 heures. Le paysage est baignee de la lumiere bleutee de la Lune. En regardant par la fenetre, on dirait qu’il a neige ! Un petit feu, un enieme the, une cigarette et au lit.
10 minutes plus tard, nous entendons des detonations. Pas franchement inquiets, surtout avec les bruits d’entrainement militaire de la journee, nous restons couches. Peu apres les gens redescentent du temple. Melange de rire et d’interjections, pas precipites et tension. Notre logeur pase nous voir : « stay inside close the door, no problem ! ». pas le moment de poser des questions. Avant de m’endormir, j’entends les cris et les pleurs d’une femme que l’on raccompagne chez elle, notre voisine. Qu’a t’il bien pu se passer ? ! ? j’imagine un scenario banal : alcool + fete + soldat = pan pan et je me figure un soldat qui tire en l’air, emeche, fier de son pouvoir viril. Au pire un soldat ayant flingue un autre, comme un chasseur !
Reveil avec le coq et les gamins. Tout semble normal sauf que le petit Suresh n’est pas venu nous reveiller en criant : « good morning nepaaaaaal ! ! » comme de coutume. Sentiment bizarre, les yeux sont rouges d’avoir trop pleure.
En discutant avec les gamins, puis les adultes, en anglo-nepali, et enfin avec les journalistes, nous reconstituons la scene. Une bagarre entre un soldat et des villageois, car le militos a brutalise un vieillard sans raison (peut-etre avec un couteau). Le troufion retourne a son camp pour en revenir deux heures plus tard avec 8 copains, et avec son fusil charge. Sans avertissement, il tire sur la foule a l’endroit de la precedente altercation, en aveugle, sur tout se qui passe, femme enfant. Ses collegues avaient juste eu le temps d’avertir rapidement : « couchez-vous il va tirer ! » (donc ils auraient pu l’en empecher, que je me dis, mais c’est vrai que ce ne sont que des bidasses…). Selon les sources, il y a entre 12 et 16 morts et une vingtaine de blesses parques a l’hopital. Le mari de la voisine y est reste. Et tout le village a assiste impuissant au massacre a avant de prendre la fuite. Les gamins, temoins de la fusillade, du sang, de la debandade, plaisantaient le lendemain en mimant les pan-pan, pour quelles consequence psychologiques ?
Au matin, des journalistes ont fait la queue devant le maison de la veuve eploree pour quelques cliches. Journaux, TV, interview des etrangers au passage en bonus, mais decus parce que nous ne sommes ni blesses ni morts je suppose car ils decampent rapidement. Et nous apprenons de leur bouche que le gouvernement essaye de faire passer la version selon laquelle lors d’une emeute contre les forces royales, des soldats ont abattus des terroristes……..
Les corps sont rstes jusqu’au matin, evacues par les soldats ou les villageois, selon les sources. Ce qui est sur c’est que les militaires ont essayes de gommer les plus grosses traces du masacre avant l’arrivee des journalistes et autres representants des ong droitdelhommistes. Bien commode, le meurtrier est ausi mort, sans que j’ai parvenu a savoir vraiment comment.
Heureusement, la rue n’a pas gobe, et un semblant de verite voit le jour, en attendant de savoir reellement ce qui s’est passe. Une enquete est menee… par d’autres militaires du gouvernement royal !
Il faut savoir que ce n’est pas la premiere histoire de ce genre dans le coin. « Ca arrive » disent pasivement les gens de la region tout en maudissant les militaires implantes de partout et qui sortent trop souvent de leurs casernes pour s’occuper, d’ou la terreur voire la haine, bien comprehensible, de la population a leur egard.
En gros voici les donnes du probleme :
Le gouvernement a besoin de soldats en masse pour contrer la rebellion maoiste, situee dans les montagnes. Mais comme les contingents sont trop faibles pour s’aventurer dans les regions sensibles combattre les mao qui leurs mettraient une sacree raclee sur leur teritoire, ils sont parques dans les zones urbaines. C’est cense donner une impression de securite la population, qui ne s’y trompe pas. Multiplication des checkpoints qui paralisent l’economie fragile du pays et le mouvement des populations. Mais de l’autre cote, les mao sont trop faiblement armes pour renverser le pouvoir en place. Ils attendent que le regime se casse la gueule de lui-meme, par la rue ou les partis politiques d’opposition qui militent toujours continuellement pour l’etablissement de la democracie et la tenue d’elections. Il y a donc statu quo entre les deux factions, treve unilaterale et pas de combats.
Par consequent, l’armee est inutile, desoeuvree, et donc dangeureuse car incontrolable. N’importe qui devient bidasse, car c’est une bonne planque, payee le double du salaire moyen. Soldats sans experience, stupides et tout-puissants.
En general, ces crimes restent toujours impunis, comme par exemple ces deux occidentales disparues. Deux cas distincts pour une meme histoire : femme jeune et plutot jolie, disparue a proximite d’un camp militaire (vetements retrouves par la suite) alors que les soldats avaient quartier libre… evidemment la police freine des quatres fers, et esquive. L’enquete ne sera jamais terminee.
La version internationale de ce conflit veut que, les maoistes etant consideres comme des terroristes, il faille soutenir le regime du roi, malgre l’autocratisme, le despotisme voire la dictature de ce regime. Classique simplification manicheenne bien-mal a la Bush. Ainsi nombre de pays fournissent de l’armement au Nepal pour l’aider a mater la rebellion, ce qui n’est pas pour demain, incluant l’Inde, la Chine, les USA, et sans doute la France parce qu’on est tres fort pour ce genre de business.
Le peuple en a marre et le dit, les rues ont grondes pendant deux jours, paralysant les principales villes du pays. Grosses banda, certaines violentes, qui se sont soldees par d’autres altercations entre police et etudiants, arrestations, blesses en masse, allongeant la liste des victimes.
Ainsi le peuple est pris entre le marteau et l’enclume, en etau entre les mao et les forces gouvernementales. Comme le Nepal est franchement primitif au niveau politique, les gens ne sont pas conscient qu’il suffirait de 10 jours pour mettre a bas ce regime, en 10 jours de bordel generalise, en revolution éclair comme c’est la mode ces temps-ci (Ukraine, Georgie, Liban). Avec une population majoritairement rurale, completement coupee de Kathmandu et des tribulations politiques, principalement concerne par la survie au quotidien, deja ecrasse par ses problemes, cette revolution facile n’est pas prete d’arriver. Pas d’unite car peu de communication et de media dignes de ce nom. Fatalisme culturel, de style karmique, plus que politique. Les gens prient, mais ne font pas grand chose.
Et ces villageois restent sans recours, et moi je suis impuissant, alors que ce peuple si joyeux et tellement pacifique, fait toujours les frais et en prend plein la tronche. Le gouvernement annonce une indemnite de 2000euros par famille. Mais qui remplacera le pere, le frere, le fils ? ici, pas de pension de veuvage, pas de retraite. Si pas de fils pour trimer et payer une retraite a ses vieux parents, l’avenir est difficile a envisager sereinement…
15 morts, a 200metres de la ou je buvais mon the du soir. 15 morts gratuitement, pour rien.
C’est aussi ca le Nepal, mais les agences de trekking ne le diront pas. Les ministeres des affaires etrangeres continueront de pointer les maoistes pour designer la provenance du danger. Le roi vit sa vie de despote. Le peuple ramasse. Et les montagnes sont si belles !
c'est, hélas ! conforme à ce que j'imaginais - la guerre, toujours, comme disait (ce con de...) GIRAUDOUX, avec la figure semblable à "un cul de singe" - pas en dentelles, avec des vrais bestiaux sanguinaires, de vrais enfants qui pleurent .... et un pays si attachant et si pauvre ... avec ma sympathie, pour eux, pour ceux qui ont approché cette inexpiable horreur ...
oui comme tu dis, le népal c'est comme ça, (ajoutes y la corruption ) j'ai failli y laisser ma peau aussi...malheureusement se sont les enfants qui trinquent..............mais les montagnes sont si belles !!!
Je rajouterai une chose, certes la population n est pas pret de renverser le regime qu elle supporte de plus en plus difficilement mais elle a tellement ete bernee auparavant par les differents parties politiques, que les nepalais ne croient plus en rien et ne veulent plus croire... la situation est vraiment difficile pour eux et tout comme toi je me sens bien impuissant...
J'etait il y a quelques temps dans un village dont j'ai oublie le nom situe au nord est de l'Inde.Sur cette meme route ou etait situe ce bourg se trouvaient a quelques dizaines de Kms plus loin deux autres villages du meme type.
Un matin (Je n'y suis reste que quelques jours) des villageois sont arrives.Ils etaient assez bizarres.
Il faut dire que nous etions en periode pre electorale et que la famille Gandhi avait encore de l'envie.
C'est ainsi que j'ai appris que les deux villages plus loins avait ete rases par l'armee indienne.
Il s'agissait pour eux de revolutionaires revendiquant la partition de l'Assam.
En fait j'ai su plus tard que ces deux villages allaient voter simplement communisme a ces prochaines elections.
Rien d'autre.
INDE Merveilleuse et Cruelle?Sage et sanguinnaire?
14 Décembre : basés à Kathmandou, nous programmons de partir à Nagarkot le lendemain pour aller admirer les montagnes…si belles…
15 Décembre 9H00 : nous sommes prêts à partir quand les employés de notre guesthouse nous informent de l’incident de Nagarkot la veille et que toute la population est en grève. Pas de taxis en circulation, impossible de quitter Kathmandou, toutes les boutiques sont fermées, le quartier de Thamel si vivant habituellement est désert. Nous décidons de flâner malgré tout dans les rues de la capitale et nous dirigeons vers Durbar Square.
Drôle de vision en arrivant, les militaires ont envahi la place, sont sur les toits, les canons prêts à servir, des sacs de sable sont empilés ça et là, l’ambiance est très spéciale, on se croirait en temps « de guerre ».
10 H00 : une foule de manifestants en colère se dirige vers nous. Nous reste alors la solution de grimper sur les dernières marches du temple le plus imposant, ne sachant à quoi nous attendre.
D’en haut, nous les observons casser la seule boutique restée ouverte sur la place…les militaires restent sur leur garde et ne bougent pas ( nous non plus )…nous attendons le moment où nous pourrons nous sauver en catimini, ce que nous faisons quelque temps plus tard ( comme le temps paraît long à certaines occasions ! )…
Le patron d’un restaurant à 200 mètres de là nous observe, son rideau de fer à moitié ouvert, nous interpelle et nous propose de nous réfugier sur le toit de son resto situé au 5ème étage d’une bâtisse, en nous demandant de rester discrets, nous expliquant qu’il risque gros à ouvrir son établissement aux touristes.
La manifestation grandit et finit par quitter Durbar Square pour rallier d’autres endroits stratégiques…
On nous explique que Nagarkot est le détonateur de cette manifestation, le « moindre » incident étant devenu prétexte à la révolte...et qu’il vaut mieux rester prudent, tant les réactions des militaires sont incontrôlables…tu le résumes parfaitement…les évènements de Nagarkot en attestent.
Quoi dire nous les observateurs impuissants ? Personnellement, ce pays m’a touchée, émue et dégoûtée à la fois…
Vive la démocratie !
" Dans un grain de sable voir un Monde et dans chaque fleur des champs le Paradis. Faire tenir l'Infini dans la paume de la main et l'Eternité dans une heure..."
W. Blake
dans un instant de nostalgie, chez moi, j'ai tapé Népal sur google, et je suis, au fil de mes chemins sur le net, tombée sur ton message, ton récit, ton expérience au Népal. je n'y ai trouvé qe confirmation de ce que je pensais de la situation actuelle. triste. même désolant, que des bidasses comme tu dis aient la gache si facile.
je me suis intéressée au Népal un peu pâr hasard, il y a cinq ans, juste avant d'y partir, en juin 2001, juste après le massacre de la famille royale dont tu certainement entendu parlé. j'y suis restée deux mois. boulversant, chaotique, un séjour fait de rebondissement et de bombe à pétrole sur la maison de mon hôte...
du coup, en rentrant, entamant ma maîtrise de science politique à la fac, j'ai rédigé mon mémoire sur la crise mao. en dea, j'ai poursuivie ces recherches, en accentuant la question de la conséquence de cette crise (tant en termes de rebellions mao que des bavures et autres débordement de cette armée débutante, mais aussi de la vie politique et royale hallucinament corrompue). j'y suis retournée deux mois en 2003, pareil, pour une mission ONG, et depuis, ça me trotte la tête. pour des raisons financières je n'y suis pas encore retournée, mais je voies mal comment ne pas y retourner.
j'aimerai beaucoup avoir une discussion avec toi, ta visiosn de la chose, de la vie de tous les jours à ktmdu et ailleurs, ... ton témoignage.
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Hello everyone on this forum!
I know in advance that what I'm about to say here won't please everyone, but honesty is a virtue, isn't it?
Here's the thing: for many years now, I've noticed a habit in French-speaking posts of using abbreviations left and right, as if to show that we're "in the know." Let me explain with a few examples:
- - In discussions about Peru, I see "Aguas" for "Aguas Calientes." And if it's Mexico, well, it'll be "Aguas" for "Aguascalientes"!
- - For Guatemala, "travelers" will say "Guaté." Come on, saying "Guatemalas" would maybe be the undeniable sign that you know nothing about the country???
- - Back from Indonesia, many will talk about how familiar they've become with the country's language: "bahasa." Of course, everyone will know what you're talking about, but it still gets on my nerves because the language (one of the many languages) of Indonesia is "bahasa Indonesia." "Bahasa" actually means "language," and you'll find this word of Indian origin ‘Bhāṣā’ (it's Sanskrit originally) outside Indonesia too: in Thailand, for example, any language will be "phasa" as in "phasa thai" (official Thai), "phasa isan" (what's spoken in northeastern Thailand), "phasa angkrit" = English, etc.
Am I an incorrigible nitpicker? Maybe. But I'd also find it ridiculous if a foreigner came and told me they visited "Monte" during their trip to France, when it was actually Monte Carlo.
I read a lot in English and don't think I've encountered such a habit among English speakers.
Who’d like to share their best and worst travel memories in a few lines?
For me, it’s watching the TAJ MAHAL at sunrise and getting chased by dogs at the top of a mountain pass in GREECE on the way back from ISTANBUL.
THANKS GUYS
This is my 15,000th post, and it's a message I would have preferred never to write.
Patrick—Yangguizi—won’t be returning from his trek in Uganda. His health betrayed him in the mountains.
Like many of you, I laughed until I couldn’t anymore at his travel stories. I met him in Shanghai, then in Istanbul... We scoured restaurants—he was an incredible expert on world cuisines. We relived Korea, China. Always brilliant, so sharp, so funny, so down-to-earth. Being even a little bit his friend was something to be proud of. I think I envied him.
Patrick is still out there, of course...
He found his happiness running across the world. He’s on his path. He never doubted that "the traveler doesn’t even know if he’ll return one day."
Not sure this would’ve suited him, but his departure devastates me.
Alright,
Farewell, you foreign devil. Safe travels.
hello to all travelers with their eyes wide open to the desert...
I’ve always wondered what I was "doing" on this earth. And why my father, who died a few months after I was born—a former youngest French resistance fighter—joined the First Saharan Motorized Company in Atar and spent the rest of his life repairing army engines in Algeria, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali (which didn’t exist under that name back then), Morocco, and finally Algeria, where my mother was born and raised. (Believe me, it’s not "cool" being the child of a soldier in a country occupied by France, and even less so the child of a "pied-noir.")
Of course, I never got an answer: the dead don’t talk, and the army doesn’t either.
But here’s the thing—I had photos...
So naturally, one day I hit the road. I wanted to see, to understand.
It’s thanks to VF that I was able to do a little research on crossing the Morocco-Mauritania border, and I’m grateful to its members, just as I’m grateful to all those who welcomed me on the road for 14 years.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if I should talk about this or not...
It turns out the Mauritanians changed my life by asking for my help... And that started as early as February 2012... (Did I owe them something? No answer to that question.)
Ah, the irony—they saw me coming. But when you’re handed sick children and begged to do something, what would you have done? I’d worked in a hospital, so I knew a bit about the rules to follow. I didn’t hesitate.
And well, over all these years, I met doctors, surgeons, and together we organized care, evacuations of children, training for surgeons—even trying to stop children from having to travel outside their country. It was never easy. I’d like to thank those who supported us, as well as *La Chaîne de l’Espoir*, *La Fondation Face au Monde*, and everyone who built bridges between our two countries.
Unfortunately, despite the constant efforts of Mauritanian doctors and surgeons, some children couldn’t be helped in time. Today, I want to talk about four siblings—orphans of their mother—suffering from congenital glaucoma causing irreversible blindness. Their case was entrusted to me in 2020, just weeks before the big lockdown. We couldn’t do anything for them then, but when their father asked me for a gift, I rushed to my computer and wrote a story.
Through a tale, the children take a great journey, explore their country, and fulfill a dream. I never thought this book would be published—it was, in 2023.
This book pays tribute to Mauritania. It’s a message for those who know nothing about the hardships of life there, carrying both the harshness and beauty of an immense desert where you can travel by 4x4, bike, on foot, or by camel in complete safety. It bears witness to the kindness of Mauritanians toward travelers.
As a woman traveling alone in my vehicle—a now-rusted old Mercedes that no longer runs—I had the most beautiful encounters of my life there (I’ve seen other parts of the world...). The blind children of Choum, Atar, Nouadhibou, and Nouakchott will forever be in my heart.
Volunteer readers transcribed the book into a free audio version for the visually impaired. It’s available in sound libraries in France, the *Fondation Valentin Haüy*, and the Swiss Romande library.
I made my last trip to Mauritania in my old 4x4 to distribute the book everywhere, especially to its heroes and the school for the visually impaired in Nouakchott.
After that, I thought it was time to close the chapter because I no longer have the means or the strength to travel.
My publishers chose this title for it: *The Blue Eyes of the Desert*.
This publication helped a mission of Swiss volunteer ophthalmologists come to operate on glaucomas in Mauritania. I’m thrilled because they come back every year!
This adventure is ending, yes—everything must come to an end—but ultimately, it was born here, on the VF site!! So yes, I had to say it: THANK YOU!!!!!
Hi everyone,
I’m Loulou, a French expat who’s been living in Southeast Asia for about fifteen years, currently in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. A passionate walker at heart, I’ve trekked in Nepal (Thorung La, Mardi Himal), India, Vietnam, and I’m still planning new hikes (Char Dham, Langtang, Annapurna).
I’ve just published my first travel journal, recounting three months of walking and encounters across India. A portion of the sales goes to an educational center I support in Kep, for children whose parents work in the salt marshes.
I’m also working on a second book about Nepal with a musician friend, focusing on the Mardi Himal trek—two independent perspectives on the same journey.
Happy to swap stories with you about the Himalayas, India, Southeast Asia, or just the urge to hit the road and walk far from home.
Safe travels,
Loulou
Hi! It was totally by chance that I stumbled upon VoyageForum (an ad online and a story lol), and I’ve been reading some really old posts from 2011 about Thai massage schools—discussions on how to get by, accommodation, prices, etc. It reminded me of my own experience: I kept things simple by staying with a local family during my entire trip. I only shared all the expenses with them, which, I’ll admit, was super cheap… and I often traveled with them, which naturally opened a lot of doors for me. To start, at the school in Salaya, my Thai friend immediately connected me with Teacher Phong (the school’s mentor and teacher of teachers, a former monk). I was supposed to join a group session with other foreigners, but for some reason I don’t know, I got two days of private lessons for free with this expert… incredible! And on top of that, he loved France! It was an amazing experience. I "discovered" massage by chance—the Thai family just told me: "Try it, you’ll see!" (I’d had a pretty intense massage in the capital before 😅… but the next day, I felt unbelievably great!))
Every morning, I’d take a taxi (chosen by the Thai family at prices that beat all the competition) to this school—I’ve forgotten the name of the little village now… right in the heart of the countryside. Then, in the evenings, I’d keep practicing massage on all the family members… and they’d teach me Thai at the same time!))
Since then, I’ve practiced a bit, with lots of positive feedback. Following Teacher Phong’s advice—he thought my pressure was deep, firm, and precise—he strongly encouraged me to take this seriously.
I love Thailand so much. It’s a whole different way of living… and it’s a real blessing, even if I couldn’t live there full-time. Anyway, that was an unforgettable memory, and sometimes the Thai family and I still say hi—from 2011, 2013… right up to today!
"It seems to me that poverty would be less painful in the sun" wrote Aznavour...
Not sure...😕 Who can prove that people in hot countries are happier than others?
What do you think?
Is it better to live in Montpellier than in Lille?
Are the Pygmies happier than the Inuit?
Are Canadians less happy than the people of Louisiana?
Are there more French expats in hot countries?
And your travels? Do you choose your destinations based on the climate?
Do you rejoice when a bit of sunshine appears?
Hi everyone, just this once I’m not posting for a travel story, but to share a thought for Venezuela.
If you didn’t know—since it’s not making headlines—the country was hit by two 7.5-magnitude earthquakes last week. Over 2,200 people have died, more than 50,000 are missing, and some coastal towns have been completely destroyed.
Maybe when the scale of the humanitarian crisis becomes clear, our media will cover it a bit more... especially since earthquakes with this many casualties usually make the front page, but there’s been nothing in France.
So here’s a thought for this country, which, whatever you think of its politics, is a true jewel of South America, both for its landscapes and its people.
hi there
I’d like to invite you to discover my coastal province in central Vietnam: Quang Ngai.
This year, my province has really improved its infrastructure—mountains, countryside, and sea are all authentic here.
No harassers or thieves, and no Russians either.
A local lunch costs around 1 €.
A *** hotel room is about 25 €, and you can find hotels right on My Khe Beach.
We have a specialty: *banh xeo*—10 crepes for just 1.5 €.
You can rent motorbikes to explore the province and maybe visit the many ethnic minorities.
I live here—I’m not selling anything, but I can help if needed (my father-in-law is a traditional Vietnamese doctor and he’s very skilled).
Hi everyone! 😉
I’m Typhaine, 35 years old. Five years ago, I left France for a solo round-the-world trip—no planes, just a van, hitchhiking, cycling, and even a canoe in the Amazon! Today, I work as a naturalist guide in Argentine Patagonia.
Wherever I go, my compass stays the same: observing and photographing wildlife, which I deeply admire and respect.
My project: I’d love to share this experience through a sustainable, authentic, and immersive nature tourism initiative. But to build something meaningful, I need to understand how other nature enthusiasts experience their own adventures.
If you:
Are over 20 years old
Have a true passion for Nature
Have already taken at least one trip lasting more than 3 nights (in your country or abroad) in your life
Promise: I’m not selling anything, this isn’t marketing. Your answers are 100% anonymous and will only help me shape this wild project.
A huge thank you to everyone for your help and kindness! Looking forward to chatting in this thread 😛
(Dear admins, this is purely a collaborative effort for my project study, with no commercial purpose. Thank you so much for your support!)
Photo: Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis), female on the left and her cub on the right. Photo taken by me in Alaska, Denali National Park.
It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.
A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question.
They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???
Not even a simple thank you!!!
From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕
Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????
I spent 3 weeks in Bali last summer (+ 3 nights on Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java). So I wanted to see what ChatGPT could suggest for comparison...
Here’s the prompt I gave:
"You’re a local expert guide for Bali.
- Plan a 20-day itinerary for Bali with a side trip to Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java without staying overnight.
- I’m traveling with my wife, and I love visiting historical sites, hiking, relaxing at the beach, snorkeling, and exploring rice terraces...
- For the duration of the stay, I don’t want more than 8 places to sleep, and I’d like to stay at least 2 days at each stop to avoid unpacking too often. Except for the last night, where I’m okay with just one night near the airport.
- I prefer neighborhoods that are walkable and try to avoid typical tourist traps, though I don’t want to miss the must-see spots. So suggest a mix of iconic sites and hidden gems.
- Recommend hotels or guesthouses with a budget of 50 to 100 € per night, including breakfast. Make suggestions in areas popular with travelers, specifying the vibe (I prefer quiet), and consider safety and proximity to attractions.
- For lunch and dinner, suggest two to three restaurants that are well-rated by customers.
- Give me a day-by-day program with details on travel times, visiting times for each point of interest, and recommendations for transportation (taxi, train, bike, etc.).
Estimate the total cost of the trip, including accommodations, food, transportation, and activities, and suggest two tips for saving money in each category.
- Don’t make anything up—be realistic about travel times, take into account the opening dates and hours of sites, and give me the entry fees for places to visit.
- Ask me all the questions until you’re 95% sure you understand what’s being asked. Don’t generate your response until you’ve understood."
The AI asked for a few clarifications:
"Great request—I can build you a really optimized and enjoyable itinerary, but to be 95% sure I hit the mark, I need a few key clarifications (this will really influence the pace, areas, and accommodations)."
In the end, it proposed a program very close to what we actually did.
I’ll skip its accommodation and restaurant suggestions...
Its proposal:
"Ubud (4 nights) => we did 5 nights
Sidemen (2 nights)
Amed (3 nights) => we’d planned 2 nights
Gili Meno (3 nights) => we did Gili between Sidemen and Amed
Munduk (3 nights) => we did 2 nights before Pemuteran
Pemuteran (3 nights) with Ijen => we did 4 nights
Sanur (2 nights + 1 last night) => we chose Jatiluwih instead of Sanur
It suggested "activities" (and accommodations too):
IN UBUD:
- Walk around central Ubud (1–2h)
- Campuhan Ridge Walk
- Tegalalang Rice Terrace
- Tirta Empul
- Gunung Kawi
- Massage / market / slow café
IN SIDEMEN:
- Rice terrace hike (2–3h)
- Cooking class
IN AMED:
- Snorkeling
- Japanese Shipwreck
- Beach + relaxation
- Volcano sunset
ON GILI:
- Snorkeling at Gili Meno Turtle Point, Nest Underwater Statues
IN MUNDUK:
- Jungle & waterfall hike - Munduk Waterfall + Melanting Waterfall
- Loop: 3–4h (perfect for your level)
- Ulun Danu Bratan Temple
- Twin Lakes
IN PEMUTERAN
- Snorkeling: Menjangan Island
For Kawah Ijen, it detailed the day well:
👍 from Pemuteran = best possible option
12 PM: leave hotel (we left at 10 PM)
1 PM: ferry
3 PM: arrival in Java + transfer
11 PM: start ascent
2 AM–6 AM: volcano
Return to Bali around 11 AM–12 PM (we got back at 4 PM)
👍 still very intense, but doable with an agency
💰 ~80–120 €/person all-inclusive
IN SANUR:
- Relaxation
- Quiet beach
- Proximity to airport (30 min)"
I’ve kept the habit of blowing my nose in the sink and then washing my hands—a custom I picked up in India. Sometimes, non-travelers are shocked when they catch me in the act... 🤪
Also, when I run out of toilet paper, it doesn’t bother me—unless I’ve got company over... 🤪
Just got back from walking a friend’s dog (while they’re on vacation), wearing a djellaba and Tibetan boots... 😏😏😏 Oh, for sure, if I’d run into locals, I probably would’ve shocked them? 😏
Anyway, as long as I’m not spitting on the floor at a restaurant or squatting on the side of a highway with a water bottle in hand...
After taking a little trip around the world, I came back a few months ago with an idea in mind.
I mostly do diving, and I love observing animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.
During the trip, I realized it was quite complicated to know where and when to see certain species.
For example:
where to dive with sharks or manta rays
where you might get a chance to swim with whales
I even discovered thresher sharks during my trip… I didn’t even know this species existed before, even though they’re incredible to see.
We spent a ton of time searching for info all over the place, especially on social media, without ever getting a clear picture.
So I started putting all this together on my own, in the form of a map, to make it easier to visualize where to go depending on the seasons.
I recently put a first version online (it’s called Fauneya).
There are probably mistakes, inconsistencies, or things to improve, and that’s partly why I’m posting here.
I’d really love to know how you all go about planning this kind of trip.
As part of my Master’s thesis, I’m currently conducting a public survey on a topic that concerns all of us when planning a trip: artificial intelligence and the role of human contact in travel planning.
These days, we’re using more and more digital tools to find ideas, compare options, and book trips... but is the role of human advisors still essential? At what moments? And for what types of trips?
The survey is anonymous and takes about 7 minutes.
It’s aimed at anyone who travels (or has traveled) for leisure, whether you plan everything yourself or go through an agency.
While browsing the forum to gather info for my upcoming trip to Thailand, I often see the terms "traveler," "great traveler," and also "tourist"—so what’s the nuance for you?
I've traveled quite a bit in Vietnam over the past few years—from the southern delta to bustling cities and even some small islands—but what really sticks with me is the north, the high mountains.
Up there, there's something different—maybe slower, more raw. The morning markets with ethnic groups, women in traditional clothes, the colors...
The stilt houses, kids following you and laughing for no reason, the terraced rice fields—it almost feels unreal at times, so vast and quiet, yet so human and simple.
You often hear that Sapa has become too touristy, and that's partly true, especially in the center. But as soon as you move a little farther away, everything changes quickly. The landscapes open up, encounters feel more natural, and you rediscover something truly authentic.
I think it's that contrast that struck me—the difference between what you imagine before going and what you actually discover when you take the time.
And you—what memory do you hold onto from Vietnam? A particular place that touched you more than others?
Hello,
We’re finalizing the plans for our upcoming trip to China in May 2025. The second-to-last stop will be in Zhangjiajie, where we’ve planned to stay for 2 full days before heading to Shanghai.
We’re traveling solo using local transport and have arranged to stay in the city of Zhangjiajie.
We’ve seen that there’s a lot to see:
Tianmen Mountain, the Grand Canyon and the glass bridge, Zhangjiajie National Park, and that the sites are quite far apart with fairly expensive entry fees.
We’re thinking of dedicating one day to the national park and the Grand Canyon (glass bridge) and one day to Tianmen Mountain.
But we’re not sure if this plan is realistic—any thoughts would be much appreciated!
I should be serving a warming drink to the participants in the discussion about gardens and parks that provide us with beautiful photos, I could mention the delicious buttery scent wafting from bakeries in the thread about returning to France, but my heart, its powerful pulse that nourishes my entire being, is elsewhere.
Dasht-e Lut, Yazd, Esfahan, Bam, Kerman, Qeshm, Hormuz—a melody, a prayer at the heart of desire.
A dream, an unattainable fantasy? No. Not anymore.
A very serious Italian travel agency is organizing this trip for 6 people this winter. I’m signed up, I’m going, I’m living. Maybe.
"But you’re completely crazy!!!!"
I know... I know that every civilization, every society has a vital need to create scapegoats to define and justify itself, pathetically. And Iran is one of them, top of the list. I laugh or sigh, and it doesn’t bother me.
But that unchanging red, deep red and garnet, so beautiful in itself, in all the Western chancelleries repeats, whispers, shouts: don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, you’re putting yourself in danger and we can’t do anything for you. You’ll be turned into mere bargaining chips, into arguments for endless negotiations. Fear must be instilled, its power absolutely preserved, no concessions made to the enemy. The information (how many French hostages, real or fake, compared to the number of travelers?) is always lacking.
Traveling becomes a merciless confrontation between desire, the vital pulse, and anxiety, its ghosts.
Hi everyone, here’s our itinerary. Arriving on the evening of December 13th. Departing on January 7th.
Thanks in advance for your tips and valuable feedback.
Manila – 1 night
Coron – 4 nights
Coron to El Nido cruise – 2 nights
El Nido – 4 nights
Port Barton – 5 nights
Flight from Puerto Princesa to Vigan
Vigan – 2 nights
Sagada – 2 nights
Banaue – 2 nights
Bagabag – 1 night
Manila – 1 night
I’ve only booked the flight to Manila and the Manila/Coron flight so far. Is it possible to book boat trips, accommodations, and the Puerto Princesa flight last-minute?
Really disappointed with Costa Rica! Pura vida? The scam of the century!
(Costa Rica pure emptiness).
The country where animals are free and people are in cages.
3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer.
Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness.
My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place.
On the main routes, we visited:
San José
Alajuela
Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side)
Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side)
And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched.
He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown.
What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor.
At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José:
It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken.
On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox.
From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire.
Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets.
Bars with security guards out front.
I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel.
The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses.
The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in.
A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park.
Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further.
We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it.
A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces.
A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures.
But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business.
Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse!
According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable.
Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos.
A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park!
A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park.
The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color.
Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded!
Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30.
The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches.
As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves.
A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!"
For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex!
The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for?
For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places.
In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs:
Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you.
For everyone else: run!
Hello,
Since the war between Russia and Ukraine, nothing is simple anymore for traveling to Belarus due to sanctions.
No more direct flights from the EU to Minsk.
Driving is a huge hassle, especially crossing through Poland at the only open border in Brest—you can wait 2, 3, or even 4 days just to get through by car.
The least painful driving option is to come via Lithuania and cross at the only open border, with a minimum wait time of 8 hours, sometimes up to 20 hours or more!!
Controls are very strict and annoying on both the Lithuanian and Belarusian sides. Avoid bringing alcohol, food, or cigarettes—everything will end up in the trash, especially when leaving Belarus for Vilnius, where the Lithuanians are tough, even with EU citizens.
The joy I once knew when visiting my wife in Minsk is sadly over—it’s now a real ordeal.
The fastest solution is to fly. My wife travels to France by taking a bus to Kaunas in Lithuania, where you can catch a flight (though not daily) to Paris Beauvais or Charleroi in Belgium with Ryanair, for example.
For the return trip, it’s the same: a flight to Kaunas and then a direct bus from the airport to Minsk.
The bus crossing is quicker than driving—the 250 km journey, including border checks, takes about 6 to 8 hours for buses leaving Lithuania around midnight, but controls are still strict at the border.
The biggest challenge is finding flight schedules that align with the bus routes between the two countries, given the unpredictable border crossing times.
Now, my wife travels via Charleroi in Belgium (near Brussels), and you can take a train to Paris. Alternatively, you can fly into Beauvais and take a bus to Paris (Porte Maillot).
For those driving, note that EU insurance and assistance policies no longer work in Belarus or Russia. You’ll need to get local insurance, usually limited to third-party liability (I don’t think full coverage exists?), as well as mandatory medical insurance. This is available at the border.
You now have to pay highway tolls—no more BELTOLL boxes. Instead, you pay a flat fee for the duration of your stay. Stop at the first gas station after crossing from Lithuania to fill up on fuel and cigarettes.
From what I know, Lithuania bans carrying more than 60 € in cash, but there’s no limit for USD (though it’s capped at $10,000??).
With a Visa card, you can now withdraw 1,000 rubles per week (about 270 €)—two months ago, it was only 500 rubles!!
For now, you can still pay by card in shops and gas stations.
However, major retailers like KORONA (which may be Russian-owned??) no longer accept foreign Visa cards.
Unfortunately, the additional sanctions announced by the U.S. on August 5, 2025, against Russia—and possibly Belarus—aren’t promising for the future.
After 20 years of visiting Belarus, I’m truly saddened to see the joy of living in this country with my wonderful wife turn into such a bleak situation, all because of human folly.
Hi everyone!
I’m putting together our travel itinerary for Veneto at the end of April. And the more I look and research potential sites to visit, the more I find!
We’ll only be there for a week—my family and I—including 3 days in Venice. So we have to make some choices...
I plan to rent a car when we arrive in Venice and head straight to Bergamo, which would be our first stop. We’d leave the car at the airport when we return to Venice so we can explore the city at our leisure.
What do you think:
1 night in Bergamo (a 2h15 drive from Venice airport),
1 night in Garda,
1 night in Verona,
1 in Padua, and
3 in Venice—would that be doable?
Thanks in advance for your tips and experiences! :)
Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here.
It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.
First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.
My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year.
I told her:
“Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.”
“But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.”
I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk.
“Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.”
I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).
July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen.
“Mamido, I did it!”
My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no!
“Congratulations, sweetheart!”
A little shyly, she said:
“Is the India trip still on?”
And me, replying:
“Of course it is!”
And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.
We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint!
But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out.
Personally, that works just fine for me.
Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me.
But I promised.
The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.
It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back.
My little girl will go home to her parents.
As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.
How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special?
That’s the mystery of love, I guess.
I’ve visited the U.S. four times myself, including two long road trips. The last one was just this past August...
I won’t be going back. I already felt guilty last August, but recent policies have finally convinced me: the humiliation of Zelensky, authoritarian excesses, Gestapo-like methods for detaining people of foreign origin, the murder of innocent people (a mother shot dead), corruption, insane "tariffs," skyrocketing healthcare costs for Americans, the abduction of foreign figures to secure oil, the requirement to disclose social media accounts, and now... threats and blackmail to forcibly take Greenland—a region that belongs to Denmark and thus the European Union!
The reality is that simply posting this could get me denied entry to the U.S.!
In this context, I just can’t keep spending money there. I loved my trips, but there are so many other countries with stunning landscapes to explore.
So I get why you’d want to travel there. I did, and I loved it. But once a country no longer respects any of the values that made us love it, why go?
How can we even consider traveling to a country that threatens to take one of our territories by force?
Hello everyone,
Controversial topic? Not necessarily—maybe just a reflection on a world to come.
I spent the last 15 days of August on a cruise in Greenland, from Kangerlussuaq to Tasiilaq.
I was utterly amazed by this unique world of rock and ice, the little houses in every color, a simple life that’s also complicated by isolation and climate, among other things...
I carry in my heart the kindness of the people I met, the raw and gentle majesty of the icebergs, the colors of the sky...
So, I can’t even imagine a massive presence of raw material prospectors, heavy machinery requiring roads to be built—if that’s even possible—changing their way of life... putting sled dogs out to pasture!
Do fast food and Greenland’s northern lights really mix?
I wouldn’t trade my memories for an ESTA!
All opinions are respectable, which is why this isn’t a controversy—but I’m sorry, I have a soft spot for *my* Greenland.
.
.
