En ce beau matin printanier du 6 avril 2016, ensoleillé mais particulièrement froid à Montréal (-8c), je me suis réveillé sur le dos dans mon lit, ce qui est très rare. Le gros sourire aux lèvres, je me suis alors souvenu avoir rêvé à la Thaïlande, quelques minutes ou plusieurs heures plus tôt (difficile à dire quand on rêve), cette Thaïlande dont j'avais tant esquissé les contours, tant jaugé les finalités et qui m'était soudainement réapparue tellement vraie, en couleurs et en odeurs.... Ce dont j'étais sûr, c'est qu'il y a exactement un mois, j'arrivais de mon premier voyage en Asie.
Et il y a deux mois exactement, le 6 février, je quittais YUL pour BKK en passant par PEK...
Et c'est de ça dont je voulais vous parler ici...
"😎😎"
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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Lorsqu'on commence à voyager, et je le dis à qui veut bien l'entendre, ça devient comme une drogue et il faut le savoir. En connaître les finalités, savoir se laisser aller... accepter.
S'accepter.
Plus on voyage, plus ça devient une "routine", une habitude, une obligation voire un rituel. Voilà le bon terme. Un rituel.
Impossible ensuite de s'en passer, de passer à côté.
À côté de soi.
Ce sont des vacances finalement et qui n'en voudrait pas.
Un défi?
Peut-être pour certains, mais pas pour moi. Enfin pas dans le sens "combatif" du terme. Si vous regardez la liste de mes voyages, la plupart ont été préparés et faits sur le même principe; réservation d'autos et/ou de gîtes/hôtels/appart au préalable puis une fois sur place, on se débrouille. Parfois chez des amis ou des connaissances du forum, des fois seul-seul. Pour cette fois-ci, c'était différent.
Je voulais partir sans préparation sauf pour mon arrivée. Et avec un sac.
Quitter pour très loin, avec plusieurs heures de vol, l'inconnu comme destination quand ce n'est pas "plusieurs inconnues", là réside l'essence même du voyage, du voyageur. La piqure ne fait pas mal, mais elle transcende...
Elle transporte.
Et quel plaisir de découvrir, encore...
Juste après mon retour de México en août 2014, à peine débarqué du 737 de Aeromexico, mes amis m'ont tout de suite demandé;
-"Tu vas où la prochaine fois? C'est quoi ton prochain voyage? Allez?"
Comme dans un concours. Eux aussi ont la piqûre du voyage, mais ils ne le savent pas. Enfin pas encore.
Ils font partie de ma vie, mais je ne les savais pas si férus... Enfin, pas autant que ça.
Et il a fallu répondre vite et, à brûle-pourpoint, j'ai lancé:
-"La Thaïlande"!
Comme ça.
Tout bête.
Avec un demi-sourire. 😕
Durant les 12 mois qui ont suivis, j'ai donc assidûment lu et relu, esquissé et rêvé, discuté avec des amis et amoureux du Siam, ici sur le forum et au travail, acheté des trucs de voyage qui me manquaient (un sac à dos!), pris des vacances en plein hiver (1e fois que je faisais ça!) et puis finalement, je suis décollé, bien simplement avec mon petit Royal Mountain de 35L au début de février... Air China venait tout juste d'ouvrir une liaison directe Montréal-Pékin en 777 alors je l'ai essayé...
Prix imbattable, excellent service, équipage un peu rigide à l'aller (fallait voir les hôtesses arriver par petits groupes de 3 ou 4 à YUL-les habitués savent de quoi je parle, cette parade des compagnies aux aéroports- les filles d'Air China sont top, trop grandes, trop noires dans leurs habits, trop droites, même pas sur le tarmac... bref, ça cogne!).
Mais ce qu'on a pu rire avec le cendrier de la porte des toilettes; bien assis à la sortie d'urgence avec un couple qui s'en allait faire la Chine pour 16 jours avec Sinorama (dont 6 vols intérieurs, j'espère qu'ils s'en sont remis les pauvres!), on s'est bidonné à voir la bouille des gens qui faisaient tous tomber le cendrier en voulant ouvrir la porte des toilettes en tirant, au lieu de la pousser. Au moins 20 fois durant le trajet de 14 heures et même en dormant, je me réveillais en riant de les voir, bêtas, puis se plier pour ramasser et remettre le fameux cendrier.... Et puis ça recommençait.... J'ai même pensé à un moment d'aller le chercher pour le jeter.... Mais le plaisir du visuel un peu sadique je l'avoue, allié au vin, à la fatigue, à la pression d'un long vol et au rire contagieux de la dame à-côté de moi...... j'ai laissé faire. On a rit. En ostie. 😄
(*note février2017-j'ai finalement mis le cendrier à la poubelle cette année... Le sadisme a ses limites faut croire!)😄
Amateur de vin, je me suis régalé avec ce vin chinois servi à volonté qui était très bon (merlot je pense car impossible de lire l'étiquette et les hôtesses ne savaient pas...et ne semblaient pas vouloir chercher non plus), mais bon. Voyage sans histoire et arrivée à Beijing la veille du Nouvel An chinois vers 17h30...
Mauvais choix, car j'avais préféré réserver mon vol de correspondance vers Bangkok à 7h30 d'intervalle au lieu de celui de 1h30, ayant peur de le rater ou de perdre mes bagages (je me suis fié aux conseils avisés d'un ami habitué de PEK) pendant le transfert enfin...
À la seconde douane chinoise, le préposé très jeune (comme les autres, majoritairement des filles) était très drôle et vraiment pas appliqué à son travail; d'ailleurs les filles lui adressaient des reproches que je ne comprenais pas, mais il avait l'œil complice et il s'en foutait carrément. C'est même lui qui, après avoir étampé ma carte d'entrée, est venu faire ma "fouille" au détecteur de métal pour trouver ma montre de poche qu'il trouvait très belle:
-"Elle vient de chez-vous, je l'ai pris sur Ebay!" lui dis-je en souriant. 😉
Gros fou rire, et la "boss" des filles qui le chicane à nouveau...
BCIA, aéroport gigantesque et vide, folie communiste de quelques 4 ou 5 étages de haut avec de grands courants d'air glaciaux, des rangées d'écrans (vraiment) plats qui diffusaient tous la même émission-variété du "Parti" entrecoupée ça et là d'un bulletin de nouvelles tellement rigide que j'avais l'impression d'être psychotique... psychotronique serait le mot plus juste. Tout pour nous faire croire à l'Immense Chine...
Grelottant comme une truite dans le Parc des Laurentides en avril, j'ai cherché un recoin pour me terrer et essayer de dormir pendant ces 7 longues heures à attendre dans le sino-arctique; fouillé dans mon sac pour sortir mon petit polar que j'ai mis sous mon veston en lin "DESIGUAL" léger puis j'ai finalement trouvé un trou moins venteux (entre le départ #E9 ET #E10 pour les curieux), couché sur trois bancs, avec mon chapeau comme couvre-chef et l'air qui me passait juste sous la couette du nez... bref, j'ai HAÏS mon arrivée à PEK! En plus, il faisait -5c... 😠
Départ à 1h05am comme prévu pour BKK, vol de nuit à moitié plein, on avait donc trois bancs pour nous et des tonnes de coussins....
Au décollage, Beijing s'est mise toute belle pour moi avec ses feux d'artifice à chaque coin de rue, immense tableau vivant. C'était la Nuit du Nouvel An et, en m'élevant dans le ciel d'un noir d'encre (de Chine), je me disais et répétais quelle chance j'avais de pouvoir voir ce spectacle magnifique et unique.
Une ville sous les feux, non pas de balles, mais bien de vœux...multicolores et silencieux...
"😎😎"
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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Bon je sens que ça va être long mais je vais suivre tes aventures avec plaisir.
J adore ton petit coté "original poétique" je dirais 😉.
A bientôt alors
Le monde est comme un miroir, si tu lui souris, il te sourit aussi!
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
L'arrivée se fait en douceur à Bangkok, déjà sur le tarmac, il doit faire 29c... à 5am. L'aéroport se réveille tranquillement, moi aussi et je me promène à la recherche d'une compagnie de cellulaire pour me prendre un forfait d'un mois pour mon vieux Samsung E1150 (acheté chez Orange à Paris il y a des lunes et qui me suit à chaque voyage) et ma tablette. Malheureusement, j'ai surestimé ma tablette qui n'a pas de fente "sim" mais qu'à cela ne tienne, on fera avec un vieux cell. True.
Déconnage horaire oblige, et en attente de l'ouverture du "airport link" à 6h, je me retrouve au Aluco, petit bistro au 2e niveau qui porte mon surnom; un de plus dans la longue liste de mes "homonymes internationaux", comme quoi on peut être célébré partout dans le Monde sans le savoir. Je remercie la vie, dans mon for intérieur, de me faire de si jolis clins d'œil. Je ne suis pas le seul bien assis aux aurores avec une bière, des allemands et des gaulois sont tout proches aussi.
- Les occidentaux boivent donc tout-le-temps, pensais-je qu'ils se disaient-je eux-mêmes en thaï.
Devant son étal, la demoiselle aux fruits frais découpe sa mangue verte avec une habileté toute asiatique et une machette à faire frémir un Boubou Macoute, fruit en morceaux qu'elle ensache rapidement pour les clients qui viendront se sustenter et, comme elle a deux "jobs", vient également me servir ma Leo (1e d'une très longue série), m'offrant mon premier vrai sourire thaï. Elle a son "mauzusse" de masque qui m'empêche de voir l'ensemble de sa beauté, alors j'imagine, sous.
Surtout qu'elle passe à mes côtés aux 10 minutes et qu'elle me fait de beaux yeux. Je ris. Elle sourit.
Et moi, je bois. 😐
Départ en train vers 6h30am, ça me donne environ 1heure de trajet si j'ai bien calculé pour rejoindre ma guesthouse (GH) située à Thewet, tout près du Chao Praya, où le check-in est à midi. En quittant l'aéroport, c'est le contact avec l'heure de pointe du matin car il n'y avait pas d'express; à chaque station (il y en aura 7 en tout), les travailleuses et étudiantes (en majorité des femmes, disons 75%. Pourquoi? Bonne question...) s'amassent, silencieuses, bien habillées, fixant leur Iphone inlassablement; au fil des stations, la lumière du jour filtre de plus en plus forte, je vois la banlieue de Bangkok, les autoroutes, les HLM, mélange de cubisme et de pagodes... je me sens bien. J'aime l'ambiance calme et posé d'un matin à Bangkok, ça pourrait être le titre d'une nouvelle à écrire plus tard... On prend des notes.
Phaya Thaï me reçoit donc vers 7am; beaucoup de monde à ce carrefour des transports en commun de Bangkok mais pas de panique, pas de courses, beaucoup de kiosques de bouffe, quelques regards mi-curieux par la blancheur de mes 20 heures de vols probablement. Ou bien parce que je suis "pas mal" malgré tout... N'étant d'aucune presse, je traine la patte volontairement en essayant de tout voir, au-travers des odeurs et de la chaleur qui montent, histoire de ne pas perdre mon chemin mais finalement, c'est tout simple. Les barrières de guérites d'accès au BTS bloquent ma fuite vers l'inconnu... Je suis donc obligé de continuer mon chemin et le kodak se fait aller pour les premières images du voyage en terre de Siam... Des buildings, des rails et ... des fils électriques! :)
Au hasard d'un des deux escaliers menant à Phaya Thai Road, je choisi malheureusement celui qui mène à l'envers de ma destination de Thanon Si Ayutthaya.
Bangkok mène déjà 1 à 0.
Je n'ai pas fait trois pas sur le bout de trottoir qu'un tuk-tuk en furie s'arrête à mes côtés (si je peux faire une analogie gentille, c'est tout le contraire de Paris!). Pour 100 bahts, on m'amène à Thewet! Vendu.
Constatation évidente, il y en a plusieurs; je suis trop grand pour un tuk-tuk, je n'y vois que dalle devant, même en me courbant dans le siège mais pas grave, j'adore le côté "cowboy" du chauffeur et en plus, la fumée des autos/taxis/bus/motos finit de m'assommer de mes 21 heures non-stop. Il y a quelques choses de pervers à voir mon chauffeur lire son journal sitôt arrêté aux feux de circulations (qui sont minutés); ici, on prend son temps mais on ne perd pas une minute. On note.
Je regarde à gauche puis à droite et encore à gauche pour essayer de localiser l'endroit où je suis mais impossible. Des étudiantes en amazones sur des motos nous croisent, des bus nous frottent, les taxis zigzaguent, un cycliste masqué sue à grosses gouttes mais ce qui me saute le plus aux yeux, et qui me surprendra souvent tout au long du voyage, c'est que malgré un trafic intense, rapide et fulgurant, venant et allant de et vers partout en même temps, sans ajouter que tout est à l'envers (sic) ici, personne ne klaxonne, ni ne sacre ou jure, pas de cris ni des grincements de dents ou de pneus. L'impatience est ici persona non grata! Je peine à me voir à Montréal, à sacrer comme un huissier dès que je touche mon volant à cause de ces tapons, ces "branlieusards" comme je les appellent, ceux qui ne savent jamais s'ils sont ici ou ailleurs et qui devraient rester chez-eux... Mais voilà probablement une des raisons qui m'ont poussés à partir. La fatigue, le stress qu'on ne veut jamais avouer et encore moins combattre. KO.
Soudain, passé une arche splendide, comme lorsqu'on entre dans un Royaume, mon chauffeur me fait signe qu'on y est; je descend mais il prend tout-à-coup son téléphone et, après quelques hinks et honks (enfin ce sont les sons dont je me souviens), il me fait signe de revenir m'asseoir. Tout autour, ça grouille de vie; des tuks-tuks, des kiosques de bouffe, des motos, un 7-Eleven, des écoliers et des moines nu-pieds... Je remballe le sac et tout et on repart pour 600m, un tout mini-mini bout de rue en coin-rond plus loin. Le moteur s'arrête soudainement.
Un chien jappe.
Mon chauffeur se retourne alors vers moi avec un air incertain, l’œil gauche vitreux. Sa main gauche, celle avec laquelle il prenait son journal à chaque feu de circulation, chambranle...
Cul-de-sac.
Terminus.
"😮😮"
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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#4 Incident à Kaolang Home...
Soudainement, et peut-être à cause de l'effet "déconnage horaire", mon hyper vigilance (supposément en vacances) redémarre et là, "jet job" oblige, je tente de décoder cet appel à l'aide: téléphone <=> cul-de-sac <=> regard hagard <=> œil vitreux <=> main qui chambranle... Tout va trop vite devant moi. Il va me faire un arrêt cardiaque! Il s'est étouffé!
L'homme sort précipitamment du tuk-tuk du côté conducteur (à droite évidemment, Thaïlande oblige!) et pique du nez vers son banc. Je fais de même, en me cognant la calotte nordique de la tête sur le toit!
Ouch! 🤪
Le chien jappe toujours et se rapproche.
C'est le branle-bas de combat!
Le chauffeur fouille partout nerveusement sur son banc, j'aimerais lui demander "si je peux faire quelque chose pour lui nuire" mais je ne trouve pas les mots en thaï et...
Ô Miracle!
D'un coup sec, Il fourre sa main dans la "craque" du siège et en sort... son verre de contact! 🏴☠️
Me semblait aussi qu'il avait tendance à louvoyer sur sa gauche, m'étais-je murmuré à moi-même un peu plus tôt en roulant sur Thanon Si Ayutthaya au matin.
En fait, tout le monde fait pareil à Bangkok.
Conduire à gauche.
Le sot.
****
L'entrée du seul GH (GuestHouse) que j'avais réservé d'avance à Bangkok pour 4 jours est bien comme sur les photos; un très long double madrier suspendu dans le vide qui mène au patio, un chien comme gardien de sécurité, un bric-à-brac savamment bigarré, belle grande terrasse avec vue sur le Chao Phraya, quelques employés s'activent tranquillement à faire la mise en place, eux-aussi d'allures assez loufoques merci. On a la curieuse impression d'arriver dans un cirque au lendemain d'une représentation. Il y a le bossu, la madame à barbe, la belle damoiselle qui flotte et un gros Pierrot qui refait ses bigoudis. Et cet autre individu dont je ne sais pas trop s'il est elle ou lui... Il est 8am et je commande une bière, ouvre ma tablette pour donner signe de vie à mes amis et parents. Je suis peut-être un peu halluciné mais comme je ne peux avoir ma chambre avant midi, je range mes sacs dans un racoin près de la cuisine et je pars explorer les environs. Il n'y a pas de clown qui me suit.
Dusit, quartier familial où se côtoient chauffeurs de tuk-tuk, bouis-bouis familiaux, 7-Eleven,
le Wat Thewarat Kunchorn Worawiharn et marchés publics, celui aux Fleurs qui donne sur la rue qui va au quai #15-Thewet longeant le canal et celui couvert de l'autre côté, avec poissons, babioles et tutti quanti. Très vite je me sens chez-moi et les ruelles me sont familières; on me fait des sourires, on m'offre des "tours" organisés, on me regarde un peu médusé mais pas tant que ça. Je termine ma tournée du quartier au Shanti House pour prendre un p'tit déj, un bel endroit baba cool avec une devanture exotique +++, grimpants, fournitures en bois massif, tout pour être dépaysé. Puis, rendez-vous à la GH pour un p'tit dodo bien mérité dans ma chambre en Tek!
Déjà 19h quand je me réveille pour aller manger; le patron de la GH est partout sur la terrasse, assez bizarre lui-aussi et très directif à ses employés, rien ne lui échappe. Il me suggère un tom yum servi sur feu ardent, des moules bleues, pieuvre, crevettes, etc. Très parfumé. Soudainement, une délégation arrive et le patron sort le Grand Jeu; cet homme doit être important car tous les égards sont maintenant pour eux. Chaque service est supervisé par le patron, toujours pointilleux. Je prends des notes en terminant ma soupe, et en regardant le spectacle relaxant des long tails faisant l'aller-retour continuel sur le Chao Phraya avec les lueurs de la ville derrière, et le pont Rama VIII en toile de fond. Exquis.
Mardi matin, le refoulement de la toilette vers 7am me réveille soudainement et comme je suis au 1e étage, il n'y a pas de dégâts notoires sauf que la lunette est toute mouillée. Ça dure un bon 20 minutes. Bizarre de situation qui se reproduira à chaque jour, même heure même toilette! Un réveille-matin assez original j'avoue...
C'est le départ tôt pour le Grand Palais et le Wat Pho, peut-être aussi le Wat Arun si j'ai le temps. En après-midi, je prévois faire le Chinatown. Je ne suis pas pressé et aucun agenda précis, rien n'est immuable, je suis en vacances, pour un mois en plus, aucun horaire et je sais pertinemment que je vais rater des tonnes de trucs mais, aussi, que je vais en découvrir de nombreux autres. À moi le plaisir!
Premier contact avec le Chao Phraya Express Boat qui est à deux pas de chez-moi; la veille, j'avais regardé un peu le fonctionnement sur le quai, les endroits où embarquer, etc. Je suis donc à l'aise avec le processus et envoye on part! Je prends donc celui avec le "drapeau orange", avec les locaux et j'adore mon expérience, pour 17 bahts, c'est rapide et fort rafraîchissant! En naviguant, je m'aperçois que le Wat Arun est en rénovation, il y a des échafaudages tout autour. Arrêt au quai Tha Chang et arrivée à 9h20 devant le Grand Palais, déjà foule et des bus se vident.. je marche rapidement avec la foule et à l'entrée, des "gardiennes" surveillent les habillements; je passe la 1e sans difficulté mais la seconde me fait signe de retourner sur mes pas, même si mes bermudas descendent jusqu'au bas du genou. Si je regarde bien sur leur affiche, je suis OK mais elles ne semblent pas l'entendre ainsi.
Refoulé, j'avance vers le bureau des punitions où il y a une foule d'infidèles comme moi, une longue ligne attend pour louer des vêtements, ça semble très long et tout ça ne me plaît pas. Je décide de rebrousser chemin et d'aller plutôt au Wat Pho, qui sera plus tranquille et aussi moins cher (selon mes lectures).
À la recherche d'un taxi, j'essaie mes premiers mots en thaï et lui en anglais et on rigole pour finalement s'arrêter juste devant le Wat Pho qui était à 3 minutes. Excellent choix. Plus tranquille, très grand et super beau, l'architecture éblouissante sous le soleil chaud et radieux. Je rencontre mes premiers français, des bidochons en vacances assez rigolos. La visite me prend environ 2h½ et déjà, je sens ma gorge sèche... J'assiste au dîner des moines bouddhistes qui ne font pas maigre jeûne croyez-moi! D'ailleurs, la moyenne des tours de taille ici est quasi nord-américaine. On prend des notes à la maison.
Retour au quai Tha Tien où je suis témoin de l'arnaque de "la fausse taxe de navette" (que vous pouvez lire ici => voyageforum.com/...ya-arnaque-d7365565/ ). Je décide de laisser faire le Wat Arun et, toujours le vent dans les cheveux (très courts dois-je le dire, jamais été aussi courts depuis 1981...), je navigue vers le Chinatown.
Arrêt au quai Rachawong où, comme mon ami Guy me l'avait bien dit,
-"perds-toi dans le Chinatown!" avait-il tonné.
Et il avait raison. C'est bien ce que j'ai fait et comme c'était les Fêtes du Nouvel An chinois, les grandes artères étaient piétonnes, toutes décorées avec des musiciens, des saltimbanques, des dragons et de nombreux kiosques de bouffe et.... de cellulaires! Petit constat, qui se reconfirmera tout au long du voyage (bis), ici on vous donne des bouteilles d'eau et elles sont "essentielles"; la bonne hydratation doit être au centre de votre planification de voyage en Thaïlande. Voilà pour ma note de service clinique indicative (et gratuite). 😇
Curieux et affamé, me promenant devant les étals de bouffe comme une hyène, je passe un moment à regarder la préparation d'une pieuvre entière, marinée et rôtie au BBQ avant de m'en commander une. Elle est toute jaune et la dame me la fait rôtir puis la découpe et y ajoute du curry vert. C'est bon et ça chauffe le québécois!
Ensuite, tout près de là, la fringale me revient, je me tape alors un rotee chinois dans un boui-boui. Assis sur un table côté trottoir, bien concentré sur mon plat de nouilles, une femme qui marchait avec un immense bouquet de fleurs devant elle se barre les pieds dans une chaine qui traversait le trottoir à la hauteur du mollet et se plante face devant directement sur le ciment dans un fracas étonnant. Aussitôt par terre, aussitôt relevée, laissant son bouquet déconfit et continuant son chemin comme de si rien n'était. Le flegme thaï j'imagine...
Je marche un peu partout, au hasard des rues bondées et étroites, rues commerçantes qui alternent avec celles plus résidentielles. Il y a de l'animation tout partout autour. Arrêté à un rond-point dont le nom m'échappe, je m'assied car mes pieds n'en peuvent plus; il y a une file de gens qui attendent en plein soleil pour entrer dans un théâtre, une parade pas loin et deux françaises (une mère et sa fille) qui fument comme des cheminées près de moi (autre détail vérifié tout au long du parcours, les européens fument énormément. Pourquoi? Je n'en ai aucune espèce d'idée...). Après une pause, je vais demander mon chemin à un agent touristique, fort sympathique qui trainait par là, et que mon accent thaï a beaucoup fait rire;
-"QUOI? Vous êtes débarqué à Rachawong?" me dit-il médusé.
Sur ma carte, il me montre alors où je suis rendu exactement et... j'ai marché au hasard jusqu'au carrefour de Wong Wian Yi Sip Song Karakada Khom Rd!
-"You crazy!" dit-il en s'esclaffant...
Il est mort de rire, et moi de fatigue, mes gros orteils semblent en détresse respiratoire et, tout en discutant, je parle de massage dont je vais avoir besoin éventuellement pour mon dos et il me prend alors par le bras et me dit;
-"J'ai un excellent endroit pour vous"!
Toujours hilare à cause de mon accent thaï, il me traîne de l'autre côté du carrefour et siffle un tuk-tuk endormi malgré le tintamarre de la parade qui n'en finit plus de finir, probablement depuis plusieurs heures déjà si ce n'est la veille au soir. Ils sont fous ces thaïs!
Après quelques salamalecs au chauffeur, me voilà donc reparti en trombe pour une autre adresse inconnue, (40 bahts sera le prix de la course) sous le regard ravi et enjoué de cet homme qui imite mon accent en me saluant du bras droit!
Un massage à Bangkok!
Déjà?
Honnnn..... 😮
"😎😎"
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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"Il faut toujours viser la lune, car même en cas d’échec, on atterrit dans les étoiles" Oscar Wilde
USA 2014 / ECOSSE 2015 / ESPAGNE 2017 / USA 2018 / Bientôt Madère2021&Lanzarote2025
Pas convaincue par le petit déjeuner photographié mais très convaincue par le reste ! 😉
Et si c'était le contraire?
"😎😎"?
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
Paris, Bordeaux, Bourgogne, Rhône, Alpes, Provence, Languedoc-Roussillon, Barcelona, Figueres, Belém, Sao Paulo, Manaus, Marajò, Soure, Joanes, Ilha de Mosqueiro, Cambu, Iccoraci, Costa Rica, Corse, México, Cuba, Thaïlande, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodge, Chine...
Pas convaincue par le petit déjeuner photographié mais très convaincue par le reste ! 😉
Et si c'était le contraire?
"😎😎"?
Perso, je trouve ce genre de présentation touchante
dans sa simplicité a faire plaisir avec rien de plus que ce qui va être consommé
Alors que, quand je vois la photo d'un cocktail (au prix d'une journée de travail de l'employé qui l'apporte)
où, une fleur d'orchidée se cramponne avec désespoir au verre
en se demandant ce quelle fout là au lieu d'être admirée dans son environnement de vie
cela m'attriste (l'espace d'un bref instant)
Si c'était le contraire je ne lirais pas ce carnet...😉
C'est terrible ces pseudo déjeuners internationaux où deux toasts insipides se battent avec un morceau de margarine ou de beurre liquéfié, une confiture industrielle 100 % sucre fraise ou abricot et une omelette graisseuse.🤪
Le cri de l'orchidée, le soir au-dessus du Mékong...
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
Une fois parti en tuk-tuk vers cette destination inconnue, j'entrai dans un autre Bangkok; plus calme, les rues presque vides, une course effrénée mais sans obstacles. Original.
Nous nous dirigions plus vers le sud-est de la ville, vers le quartier de Silom, côté Chao Phraya. Mes méninges fabulaient à l'idée saugrenue d'un massage "thaïlandais", tout exotique qu'on puisse facilement se l'imaginer à... 2.. puis 4..... puis 8 mains? Pourquoi pas....
Terminus dans une petite rue en retrait, où déjà l'air me semblait plus doux que dans la jungle du Chinatown; Bangrak Spa & Massage marquait l'affiche.
Devanture proprette, j'entre et me retrouve sur un siège rouge vif, comme un Prince. Le Maître des lieux m'apporte un menu avec les services et les prix et j'explique que ce sont mes pieds/jambes et mon cou qui me font "souffert"(*). J'y vais pour un "massage à l'huile".
1,000 bahts!
Oups.
Ok.
Ouais.
Bon.... Difficile de faire marche arrière, ce sont les vacances..allez, on fonce Alphonse!
Une minuscule dame vient me chercher et en attendant l'ascenseur, il y a cette affiche candide mais évidente où c'est écrit "Massage NO SEX"!(**)
Bon.
Ok.
Ouais.
Non pas que c'était nécessairement dans mon Top 3 ce jour-là mais là, de toute évidence, une fois montant dans l'élévateur, mon semblant d'érection mentale retomba à-plat. On biffe à la maison. 🏴☠️
Dans la salle de massage très jolie et épurée à l'asiatique, la dame me donne une robe de chambre, une serviette et un petit sac de plastique transparent avec un genre de bonnet noir. Elle se retire et comme j'ai les cheveux très très courts, je laisse tomber le bonnet et je prend ma douche rapidement puis, robe de chambre sur le dos, elle entre, me fait signe et se dirige vers le deuxième lit; je tombe la robe de chambre devant elle, flambant nu et elle sursaute soudainement, se cachant les yeux en se retournant! Je suis pleinement conscient que mon corps d'athlète sculpté comme un Dieu de l'Olympe peut surprendre au premier abord mais je reste quelqu'un d'ouvert et de très simple, modeste même à l'occasion et au quotidien.
-"La beauté sublime s'accepte", pensais-je discrètement.
De son index, elle pointe le sac noir... Je l'examine et me rend compte que ce n'était pas un bonnet de bain mais plutôt... un slip en latex!
Le con.
De touriste.
La dame se cache la bouche en sursautant des épaules pendant que, digne mais nerveusement, j'enveloppe mon superbe Apollon qui, versant une larme chaude, est lui-aussi tout rouge de honte, comme moi.
Bangkok prend l'avance 3-0. La partie sera longue et difficile.
Je le sens.
*****
- "La terre appelle la tête, la terre appelle la tête, répondez...."
- ....
*****
Dehors, la fin d'après-midi apporte une lumière orangée toute spéciale qui tangue sur le sud de la ville et l'effluve de mon corps caressé flotte au vent comme une fleur de jasmin sur une mer d'huile de coco; du quai ORIENTAL tout près, je reprend l'Express pour retourner à THEWET, songeant à quoi picorer avant de choisir l'itinéraire de la chaude soirée qui s'en vient. J'ai bien l'intention de meubler Bangkok de mon empreinte.
Bien assis sur la terrasse du Kaloang Home derrière une Singha bien glaçée, une vision sadique m'enveloppe soudainement;
-Et pourquoi ne ferais-je pas à nouveau le "farang" ce soir?
Et comme en écho sur le Chao Phraya, un grand rire se fit entendre, glaçant le sang des nombreux convives se sustentant au restaurant, chambranlant les pilotis...
"😎😎"
(*) expression humoristiquement erronée que j'adore, empruntée au groupe Rock et Belles Oreilles
(**) la photo est authentique mais prise sur l'internet car sur le moment, j'ai été pris de surprise et n'ai pas eu le temps de prendre mon kodak...
(***) petite pensée à tous ces artistes majeurs qui nous quittent les uns après les autres, Prince, Bowie, etc... Sans eux, qui serions-nous? Sans l'ART, où en serions-nous? 😐
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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C'est en terminant mon Pad thaï (de bonne thaï, faut-il le préciser-avec un facile calembour) que je décidai d'aller faire un tour sur le fameux Khao San Road à la nuit tombée; d'entrée de jeu, je ne suis pas fou des lieux communs ni des "à ne pas rater" de ce monde. Le Pad Thaï en fait partie (et, en toute confidence, ce n'est pas le plat que j'aime le plus dans la cuisine thaï) et KSR également. J'ai beaucoup lu sur cet endroit inévitable selon certains et évitable pour d'autres et j'ai même choisi ma GH dans Dusit pour ne pas avoir la foule de touristes à ma porte. Grand bien me fasse, un choix plus que judicieux! Il y a l'eau, c'est familial et... un 7/11 pas loin!
Une petite marche de 20 minutes me mène vers ce lieu mythique, antre des restants de hippies/sacàdoseurs baroques fondus à la ville, tuk-tuks à l'affût du moindre farang égaré, bureaux d'excursions cherchant à kidnapper le premier venu...
Nous sommes mardi soir, il fait beau à Bangkok et tout en marchant sur Samsen road, je me plaît à penser que rien de tout cela n'est encore arrivé; presque pas de tuk-tuks ni de taxis, une rue calme sans touristes, des boutiques à "tours" qui se font plus présentes à mesure que j'avance, certaines sont même fermées.. Il y a bien des petits cafés minuscules et bondés (ça me rappelle Beaune, allez savoir pourquoi...) mais je cherche plutôt à voir où se trouve le resto de Bruno Blanchet à qui je voulais faire une visite; selon mes sources de dernière minute, j'apprends qu'il ferme le 15 février (dans 3 jours) et lui-même n'est déjà plus à Bangkok! Dommage.
Rendez-vous raté. Ça arrive.
Tout en marchant, un coin de rue s'anime, je crois bien être rendu à destination. Je tourne à droite (sur Soi Rambuttri) et m'enfile pour suivre la file de badauds qui marchent, à la queue leu leu, devant des bars, des marchands de bouffe, des vendeurs de fringues, tout ça est bon enfant et je me surprend à aimer l'ambiance... Je marche jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ai plus grand-chose d'intéressant puis revenant sur mes pas, je me trouve une place assise à un bar/bouffe que j'avais jaugé plus tôt, le "Sawadee" je crois; regardons vivre la vie, avec Bangkok tout autour et une LEO bien fraîche... La nuit est douce...Profitons-en...
Puis une deuxième... le beat des vacances commence à entrer subtilement entre mes deux oreilles... je ne me sens pas encore thaï mais ça ne saurait tarder...
Un femme Karen (Lanna) se promène aller et retour sur la Soi depuis un bon moment, elle porte un des fameux chapeau Hmong (que j'achèterai plus tard à Chiang Rai) et s'amuse à titiller notre attention pour vendre ses souvenirs avec une grenouille en bois de teck dont elle frotte le dos bosselé avec un maillet de bois, ce qui donne un croassement assez juste merci. Malheureusement pour moi, je ne l'achèterai pas (et je ne reverrai pas cette grenouille durant le reste mon voyage, minuscule déception...).
Avec ces bières et toute l'activité de cette rue passante, la tête me tourne un peu... des français sont devant moi avec leur tablette et leur cellulaire et leurs clopes, moi, je n'ai rien pris.... Pas de tablette, pas de kodak, pas de sac... et je ne fume plus depuis 13 ans!
Je suis venu simplement avec les mains dans les poches... Comme je fais bien souvent, à Paris surtout ou même à Barcelona...
Soudainement, sans crier gare, un gaillard très grand, chauve avec un t-shirt mi-déchiré se lance vers la foule et.... s'accroche les pieds dans le tapis de fleurs, juste à-côté du vendeur d'un genre de crêpes chinoises qui avait un certain public curieux et gourmand disons-le...
Des cris se font entendre puis des cloches et là, je sens mon bras qui est tiré vers l'arrière brusquement. Des policiers détalent sur la Soi des deux côtés en même temps alors que je vois le plafond étoilé défiler sous mes yeux à une vitesse foudroyante, je ne porte plus à terre. Des flashs de lumières, des cris, des bouteilles qui se cassent, des coups de feu même, j'ai l'impression d'être dans un jeu vidéo en développement....les bruits s'atténuent.. la lumière aussi puis il y a comme une absence de quelques secondes, minutes ou plus, je n'en sais rien.
Une douce odeur de jasmin et d'encens m'emplit alors les narines, une musique sino-thaï sonne naïvement à mes oreilles, celle produite par ce genre de harpe/luth (khim) que l'on tape avec des petits balais... Je sens dans mon dos une main se glisser vers le bas des reins... Une voix aigue chantonne des mots que je ne comprends pas...
Lorsque je reprend conscience, je suis toujours bien assis au Sawadee, les français sont partis, le vendeur de t-shirt est en train de ranger ses chandails dans des caisses en métal, des policiers touristiques viennent dire quelques mots à son voisin de kiosque qui est flanqué de deux étrangers, un rasta et une rousse américaine qui ressemble à Janis Joplin, il y a quelque chose qui cloche mais je ne réussis pas à savoir quoi au juste, mais de sourires convenus on passe rapidement à remballer les maroquineries installées (peut-être illégalement) derrière la table d'honneur.
Je termine alors ma bière, chaude, pour me lancer vers l'avant, vers l'autre côté du miroir...
En remontant la rue, du côté est, je me retrouve dans une allée plus large avec beaucoup plus de bars, de massages de pieds et d'autres parties probablement, des vendeurs itinérants comme celui qui vend des larves, araignées et scarabées avec une affiche tout autour de l'étal qui indique "20bahts for photos or videos"; incidemment ici, tout se paie! Le pauvre gars est endormi, sûrement pas sa soirée la plus faste quoi que... Une fois rendu au bout de la Soi, j'arrive à un genre de rond-point où un grand jeune homme costaud (encore d'allure chinoise) me tape l'épaule en me demandant si je veux des filles!! Des tuk-tuks sont pas loin.. Je lui réponds gentiment que pour ce soir, comme je suis encore sur le "déconnage horaire", je vais passer mon tour... Il sourit gentiment et me rappelle que maintenant, je sais où il se trouve et que donc, si jamais j'ai besoin...
Tout en le remerciant, je reviens sur mes pas vers ma GH car demain, si Bouddha le veut, j'ai une autre grosse journée devant moi...
Tout autour, la rue est calme, les tuk-tuks sont rangés, les enfants dorment, on n'entend que le bruissement du Chao Phraya tout près.
La Thaïlande ne fait que commencer à me séduire...
(à suivre)
"😎😎"
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
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#7 Des cocons et des boules...
Tôt le matin du 3e jour, le retour d'eau de ma toilette me réveille à nouveau, même heure et même cuvette! Mais cette fois, j'ai eu la présence d'esprit de lever la lunette la veille ce qui a eu pour résultat de ne pas la mouiller mais... partout autour! Cul à l'eau, pieds à l'eau, lequel choisir? La perfection n'existe pas, la vie nous le rappelle quotidiennement par ces petits moments humides volés à l'absurde.
Petit déjeuner au Shanti Lodge encore, j'adore le côté baba cool de cet endroit, les grimpants qui retombent en nuages d'eau sur la devanture, les gaulois qui hantent ce lieu avec leurs enfants, tout le monde nu-pieds, j'aime. Une crêpe thaï, un jus de fruits et un petit bouddha qui se promène en itinérance en rôdant autour de moi. Il mendie, je ne lui donne rien alors il passe son chemin. Mon appétit n'est pas énorme ce matin. Il revient et marmonne des mots que je ne comprends pas. N'écoutant que mon cœur empathique (et souvent naïf-heureusement!), je lui tend le reste de ma crêpe... Il tâte la pâte avec un regard dubitatif et presque dédaigneux, marmonne encore quelque chose entre un chuintement et du thaï et laisse tout retomber dans mon assiette. Je remballe le tout dans ma napkin, un peu fru j'avoue. Il s'assied par terre près de moi, sort une pochette et compte ses bidous; il a plus de fric que moi le mauzusse! Rapidement, je dirais plus de 1,000 bahts en 50 et 100...! Et en plus il fume... Je toussote encore ce matin, en deux temps, euh! euh! Ma gorge sèche m'inquiète un peu... moi qui ne fume plus depuis 13 ans....
Je repars vers Samsen road pour trouver un taxi car ma prochaine étape est la Maison de Jim Thompson, tout près de Phaya Thaï. Deux minutes suffisent avant qu'une boîte rose me prennent en charge; lui montrant l'endroit, et le "meter", tout semble ok et on part, direction sud. Suivant la route avec ma carte, je me rend compte rapidement que le chauffeur semble chercher sa route mais finalement, après moult virages et retours, me voilà finalement devant cette magnifique maison. Je soupçonne qu'il a volontairement rallongé un peu la route en feignant l'ignorance mais à 80bahts... si tout le monde est heureux...
Pas mal de monde, il est environ 10h15am, accueil et visite en français, tout est coordonné de façon professionnelle, chaque groupe "ethnique" est rapidement répertorié. Casiers pour souliers (on y marche pieds-nus) et cases avec clés pour votre matériel, gratos. Classe.
Les lieux sont quand même assez réduits, la visite avec guide se fait en 45 minutes, pas de photos des intérieurs de la maison (merde). On y admire les débuts de la vie de Thompson et des cocons, une visite toute en soie. Une belle humidité et plusieurs oiseaux embaument cet endroit minuscule (au centre d'une aussi grande ville), jardin et petits plans d'eau éparpillés que l'on peut visiter librement avant et/ou après notre séance guidée, une salle d'expo au 2e et une boutique.
Et puis un petit resto où je me suis régalé d'observer les touristes aller et venir (surtout cette anglaise qui fatiguait d'attendre que la serveuse vienne la chercher à la terrasse pour lui donner une table libre, croyant qu'elle avait été bernée. Il a fallu que j'intervienne pour la rassurer), et tout le tralala. La beauté de voyager seul, observer tranquillement. Certains disent que ce resto ne vaut pas la peine, je l'ai adoré pour le décor, l'action, la petite piscine aux carpes et la bouffe bienvenue juste vers midi. Un peu cher? Me souviens pas...
Sitôt la note réglée, et saluée l'anglaise qui s'était finalement calmée (son mari étant resté stoïquement british tout au long), je repars à pieds vers la station Phaya Thaï (Airport Link-Sky Train) en direction de Mo Chit (Chatuchak park-MTS-Métro), en fait je m'en vais dans le quartier de Chom Phon. Bizarrement, en marchant, je me sentais dans un environnement connu et pour cause, c'est là où je suis arrivé il y a deux jours passés avec le Airport Link!
D'aucuns diront, mais qu'est-ce qu'il va foutre là, à Chom Phon?
Je m'en vais dans ce coin loin au nord de Bangkok parce que je suis un amateur et passionné de snooker depuis 1970 et que j'ai rendez-vous avec un artisan de la baguette thaïlandaise avec qui j'ai déjà communiqué autour des années 2001. Je possède deux baguettes et, comme je suis à Bangkok, pourquoi ne pas me faire plaisir en m'en procurant une 3e. Pourquoi se faire du mal quand on peut se faire du bien, me dis-je toujours dans ces moments-là...
Le métro aérien est tout confort, le calme thaï (et aussi hors heure de pointe), tout y est d'une facilité relaxante. pour avoir pris plusieurs transports au cours de mes voyages, celui-ci est de loin le plus "zen". Une fois à la station, la dernière de la ligne-terminus, je descend me trouver un taxi, tout facile, meter! On part et, trop rapidement, j'ai l'impression d'être de retour à Montréal. Il ya des constructions sur l'autoroute, des bouchons, c'est lent, lent mais, vivement les thaïs, personne ne devient furieux. Pas de klaxons, pas de cris, juste une patience qui repose.
On note toujours à la maison.
Je termine ma course au fond d'une ruelle avec une petite rivière juste à-côté. Je demande au taxi si je suis bien au bon endroit et il m'indique que oui, et que l'entrée est devant moi. Pour les plus néophytes et anxieux pré-voyageurs, on pourrait facilement croire que je suis dans un "nowhere" violent et dangereux d'une grande ville d'Asie et que là, tout peut m'arriver; attaque, vol, enlèvement.... Ben non, tout va bien, le soleil plombe sur les arbres près de l'eau, et je tousse toujours...
J'entre dans la salle de billard de "MASTERCUE", tapis verts, ambiance zen. J'adore. Mlle Hang vient à ma rencontre et me propose 6 baguettes que j'essaierai pendant tout l'après-midi en vidant table après table, avec plusieurs LEO. Quelques thaïs jouent également. Mlle Hang vient me faire un peu la cour de temps en temps, balbutiant un anglais primaire mais, heureusement, son cellulaire nous est d'une aide certaine pour mieux nous comprendre. J'ai joué pendant 5 heures de temps! Malheureusement, la baguette qui m'intéressait était à 11,800bahts et 8,000bahts de transport avec un "case" en aluminium. Impossible pour moi de transporter ça pendant un mois. Appel fait à M. Ulkrit pour négocier mais peine perdue, je dois décliner l'offre, surtout qu'il n'a jamais baissé son prix et qu'à ma grande déception, son stock de baguettes était pas mal trop limité à mon goût. Mais ce n'est pas grave, j'aurai honoré ma promesse de le visiter (même s'il était absent) et empocher plus de 600 boules en 5 heures m'a fait le plus grand bien.
Retour sur la rue, il est près de 19h30, je trouve un taxi et lui demande de me déposer à Mo Chit; finalement, il me dépose à un terminus de bus!! Il s'excusera et retournera sur ses pas pour me déposer à la station BTS. Une fois à Phaya Thaï, un autre taxi m'amène à Dusit sans broncher...
À la GH, pad thaï et bière sur le bord de l'eau avec mon staff qui a toujours l'air sorti de 8½ de Fellini. Je rigole tout seul en regardant le spectacle.
Une fois à ma chambre, épuisé et repu, il me faut réfléchir à la suite de mon voyage car je ne sais ni où je vais, ni par quel moyen. Tout ce que je sais, c'est que vendredi matin (dans deux jours), je dois quitter la GH... Recherche sur ma tablette pour des hôtels, des vols, des bus ou des trains pour.... Ayutthaya? Sukhothaï? Erawan? Chiang Rai?
Finalement, le sommeil tombe et je passerai les prochaines heures à dormir..... mais dormir vraiment....
Déconnage horaire? Fatigue? Stress qui s'affaisse?
Toujours est-il que je ne verrai rien de mon jeudi...
Rien de rien.
Je toussote encore un peu puis..
Black out.
"Plus il y a de fous, moins il y a de riz"
Paris, Bordeaux, Bourgogne, Rhône, Alpes, Provence, Languedoc-Roussillon, Barcelona, Figueres, Belém, Sao Paulo, Manaus, Marajò, Soure, Joanes, Ilha de Mosqueiro, Cambu, Iccoraci, Costa Rica, Corse, México, Cuba, Thaïlande, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodge, Chine...
Un titre un peu longuet... J’aurais pu écrire tout simplement: de Bangkok à Chiang Rai, en passant par Chiang Mai, puisque tel fut mon parcours. Mais quand des…
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Carnets de voyage › Thaïlande / Cambodge · 221 replies
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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 😹
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.
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...)
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!
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
This travel journal 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...
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.
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 the summer of 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland for the summer of 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which, from what we’ve read, is stunning but very crowded (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last wild space—I think it’s incredibly inspiring!!
The downside of this choice is that there are no resupply options in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with Sarek in mind.
But hey, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before 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 abandon the Sarek crossing.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our overstuffed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides 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 - So, Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
Coming up:
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
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.
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!
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... 😉