Bonsoir,
voici le compte-rendu de mon dernier périple à vélo au Sri Lanka...
Un vélo chargé, une carte détaillée, des plantations de thé, des temples bondés, des plages ensoleillées, des rencontres par milliers, des villes embouteillées, des bus pressés, des chiens affamés, la chaleur à supporter…
Récit en mots et en photos d’un périple de 1000 km, seul et à vélo, sur les routes du Sri Lanka …
Vol matinal dans un Airbus A330 de la compagnie Saudi Airlines.
Dans le film que je visionne, certaines scènes sont coupées, certains mots sont bipés, les décolletés et les bouteilles d’alcool sont floutés. Une bouteille de Badoit n’échappe pas à la censure…
7 heures d’escale à Jeddah. Je rencontre Clém, Anaïs, Johanna et Alex avec qui je passe le temps.
L’aéroport de Jeddah est minuscule et sordide. Pas de zone fumeur et les nombreux panneaux sont explicites : fumer est interdit. Pourtant, quelques heures après notre arrivée , certains passagers craquent et allument une cigarette dans le hall d’embarquement. Ici, c’est un employé de l’aéroport qui s’en grille une derrière son comptoir. Je me laisse tenter…
J’embarque tard dans la nuit à destination de Colombo.
Jour : 22 km Total : 22 km
Sommeil maintes fois interrompu. Colombo. Je récupère mon vélo espérant qu’il soit toujours entier. Taxi vers Negombo où je dois passer ma première nuit.
La chaleur ? Elle semble supportable…
J’arrive donc chez Patrick, une petite Guesthouse bon marché à deux pas de la plage de Negombo. Ma priorité, remonter mon vélo, vérifier qu’il n’est pas abîmé (ce qui peut arriver lors des voyages en soute). Le vélo est entier, je pars aussitôt faire quelques kilomètres pour vérifier le matériel, l’état de mes jambes et me faire une idée des routes sri-lankaises.
2 km parcourus et déjà, un clou de 5 cm de long transperce mon pneu. Ne me laissant pas impressionner par ce qui ressemble à un mauvais sort, j’arrête un tuktuk, y charge mon vélo malgré les réticences du chauffeur et je retourne chez Patrick pour mes premières activités mécaniques dans le pays. Je change la chambre à air et repars.
Je longe la longue plage de Negombo et m’engage dans le formidable marché aux poissons. Les poissons y sont vendus frais et ou séchés. Dans les deux cas, l’odeur est envahissante pour ne pas dire nauséabonde.
22 km en guise de test. Le petit bilan que j’en tire est le suivant : chaleur : ok, état des jambes : ok, état du vélo : ok, conduite à gauche : ok, circulation anarchique, chiens errants, piétons, bouches d’égout béantes : ok, mais je devrai rester vigilant à chaque instant…
Retour à l’hôtel. Je m’allonge, je m’endors aussitôt. Je retourne sur la plage en fin d’après-midi. La foule colorée s’est massée afin d’attendre le coucher du soleil. L’ambiance est familiale, amicale et festive.
La nuit est tombée. Attablé chez Patrick, j’ai commandé une bière, j’ai sorti ma carte du Sri Lanka, mon carnet et mon stylo et je visionne les photos du jour. Mon chicken fried rice arrive, mon voyage commence !
Je prépare les derniers détails techniques et m’endors sans demander mon reste…
Negombo – Kurunegala Jour : 80 km Total : 102 km
Nuit de plomb.
Non sans excitation, je quitte l’océan de bon matin, vent de face. La route serpente harmonieusement entre les palmiers.
La « Petite Musique de Nuit » de Mozart flotte ici ou là, un son strident qui annonce l’arrivée prochaine du tuktuk-boulangerie. Souvent, je l’entends mais ne le vois pas.
Mes sensations sont bonnes lors de ces premiers tours de roue.
Des églises, des mosquées, des temples, des bouddhas… Des sourires, des bonjours, des pouces levés en guise d’encouragement. Visiblement, je ne passe pas inaperçu avec mes sacoches orange et je suscite une certaine forme de curiosité… Les tuktuks qui me doublent ont souvent un petit geste amical. Les nombreux chiens errants gisent parfois à même la route. Généralement, ils ne tournent même pas la tête à mon passage. Le serpent d’un mètre de long, écrasé au milieu de la chaussée ne réagit pas non plus.
Lorsque je m’arrête après 50 km parcourus, la chaleur est perceptible. Une chape de plomb, plus un souffle, je ruisselle.
Haruna tient la petite échoppe où je me repose. Il a travaillé durant des années, exposé aux produits chimiques, dans une usine en Corée du sud. Il en garde des séquelles et aspire, aujourd’hui, à une vie paisible.
J’arrive dans une circulation dense à Kurunegala.
Je trouve un hôtel pas cher mais le tenancier m’annonce qu’il ferme le lendemain matin à 5h30. Il m’explique alors que je serai à la porte avant le lever du jour. Autre option plus onéreuse, face au lac et pas d’urgence demain aux aurores.
Repos tranquille à l’ombre des arbres. Déjà 6 litres d’eau ingérés depuis ce matin.
Je n’ai pas mal aux jambes et ne me sens pas fatigué. Je passe donc l’après-midi entre le lac, repère discret des amoureux, et le centre ville, poussiéreux, enfumé et assourdissant.
Je suis apostrophé de toutes parts : le vendeur de poissons qui m’offre de l’eau fraîche, le vendeur de noix coco, le vendeur de loto et les deux flics avec qui j’en partage une, deux ou trois tuktuks drivers, Nashanta, l’ouvrier qui doit restaurer, sans grande motivation, il faut l’avouer, une portion le long du lac… Ce dernier a travaillé sept années dans un restaurant italien à Dubaï. Comme je connais le coin, on en discute pendant une demi-heure. En se quittant, il me donne son numéro de téléphone et m’assure que je peux l’appeler 24h/24h en cas de problème.
Je retourne en ville pour déguster un Biryani en ne manquant pas, sur le chemin du retour, de partager une cigarette avec mon vendeur de poisson.
Le silence est monacal dans l'hôtel, je suis le seul client.
Ravie de te suivre à nouveau, cette fois sur ces routes Sri Lankaises.
On sent à travers ce début de récit beaucoup de gentillesse et d'attention de la part de cette population qui te regarde passer.
Il y avait beaucoup de touristes ? ou tu as suivi un itinéraire peu touristique ?
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
On sent à travers ce début de récit beaucoup de gentillesse et d'attention de la part de cette population qui te regarde passer.
Ce fut le cas tout le long de mon itinéraire...
Il y avait beaucoup de touristes ? ou tu as suivi un itinéraire peu touristique ?
Globalement, je suis resté sur un itinéraire classique donc des lieux de tourisme. Mais quand on voyage à vélo, on s'arrête où l'on veut, dans des endroits paumés ou moins touristiques...
Kurunegala–Sigiriya Jour : 82 km Total : 184 km
7h15, la circulation est dense. Tuktuks, voitures, bus, vélos, piétons, motos, bus, voitures, chiens, vaches… La loi du plus fort est en vigueur, je ne pèse pas lourd. J’ai le choix entre les chiens du bas-côté et les bus pressés. Passage à niveau, barrière baissée. Le bazar est indescriptible. Je remonte à mes risques et périls la file de véhicules.
La route est en travaux sur de nombreuses portions. Elle se transforme alors en piste. Les camions-citernes arrosent sans modération le revêtement pour limiter la dispersion des poussières. Je suis donc couvert de boue. Il est étonnant de constater que les équipes de chantier sont constituées d’hommes et de femmes.
L’itinéraire est plus vert et plus vallonné qu’hier.
Première attaque de chien. Il surgit à mon passage tous crocs sortis et me poursuit en hurlant pendant une centaine de mètres.
Je n’ai pas prévu de m’arrêter avant Dambulla où se trouvent des grottes dans lesquelles sont sculptés de grands bouddhas (157 statues). Arrivé à l'étape, après 60 km, je retrouve cette chaleur pesante qui apparaît lorsque je ne pédale plus.
Je confie la surveillance de mon vélo à un agent de sécurité, il m’en coûtera 100 roupies (70 cts).
Je me dirige alors vers l’immense bouddha couvert d’or et entreprends l’ascension des 200 marches qui mènent aux grottes. Lieu de pèlerinage, intime et calfeutré, sombre et frais, assailli par des vagues intermittentes de touristes et de singes…
Je retrouve avec soulagement mon vélo et constate avec inquiétude que le jeu de direction est complètement desserré. Les vibrations dues à l’état des routes en sont certainement responsables.
Atelier de réparation de cycles, quelques tours de clé allen et je repars de plus belle.
Une petite route me mène aux environs de Sigiriya . On m’indique une voie qui devient rapidement une piste inondée. Je ne croise plus personne, pas même un tuktuk. En fait, je crois que je suis perdu.
Intersection. A droite ou à gauche ? A droite. Quatre chiens à mes trousses, un sprint, ils ne lâchent pas prise. 100, 200, 300 mètres, je me retourne et pousse un hurlement à leur encontre, un hurlement puissant digne du plus agressif des chiens. Interloqués, ils coupent net leur effort, ce que je fais, essoufflé, quelques dizaines de mètres plus loin.
Je retrouve la direction de la ville que je convoite. Première chambre que l’on me propose, un matelas à même le sol, dans une chambre sans mur délimitée par des rideaux crasseux. Trois hôtels complets et enfin, une belle chambre dans une petit guesthouse calme et ombragée.
Je déjeune et me lance à l’assaut du rocher (370 m) qui abrite en son sommet des vestiges archéologiques d’une forteresse du 5ème siècle.
Je ne suis pas seul. Le promontoire est en effet un site majeur (classé à l’Unesco) du tourisme au Sri Lanka. En plus des visiteurs, singes et varans m’accompagnent. La chaleur est écrasante et la montée emprunte passerelles et escaliers vertigineux.
Je retourne à l’hôtel, vérifie les serrages du vélo, nettoie la boue et huile la chaîne.
La bière est servie ce soir dans une théière, il est en effet interdit ici d’en consommer. J’avais déjà vécu cette expérience amusante à Dharamsala en Inde.
Je trouve un pc pour sauvegarder mes photos et retrouve les quatre filles rencontrées dans l’avion pour dîner.
Un vrai fléau ces chiens errants devenus presque sauvages.
Il y a de la rage au Sri Lanka ?
On retrouve aussi dans ce pays toute l'hypocrisie qui règne autour de l'alcool : on peut en boire mais il ne faut pas que ça se sache !
Il ne te l'ont pas servie chaude quand même ta bière ?😏
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Sigiriya – Kandy Jour : 92 km Total : 276 km
Mal dormi, départ tardif.
Je reprends la route inverse sur 9 km direction Kandy, direction plein sud.
La route est paisible, la lumière matinale est douce, quelques fumées d’encens viennent troubler l’horizon. L’heure est à la rentrée des classes. Des dizaines d’écoliers, vêtus de blanc, se pressent gaiement aux portails des écoles. Quelques kilomètres plus loin, c’est déjà l’heure de la prière collective ou des chants divers dans la cour.
Je me sens un peu fatigué. Par expérience, je sais que le troisième jour est toujours plus difficile. Mes jambes sont raides, le corps est las, ma pédale gauche craque… Je m’arrête à maintes reprises pour vérifier, resserrer mais rien n’y fait…
Petite pause face à un réparateur de tuktuks qui ne manque pas de traverser la route pour m’apporter une chaise.
Après une soixantaine de kilomètres parcourus dans la poussière jusqu’à Matale, je m’accorde une nouvelle pause. L’épicerie ne compte que deux bouteilles de soda que j’avale en deux gorgées. Encore une fois, la chaise ne se fait pas attendre. Le vendeur de l’échoppe voisine a lui aussi travaillé de nombreuses années à Dubaï. Échanges.
La circulation s’intensifie franchement. Les bus dominent le trafic. Ils ne cessent de klaxonner, ne freinent jamais lorsqu’ils sont lancés mais se déportent tantôt vers la droite, tantôt vers la gauche. Ils freinent seulement lorsqu’ils ralentissent (sans même s’arrêter) pour prendre ou déposer des passagers. Par deux fois, les bus se rabattent et m’envoient dans le bas-côté.
Plus j’approche de Kandy, plus la circulation est dense. Une bonne côte de 2,5 kilomètres me donne une bonne suée. Les faubourgs de la cité sont indescriptibles, les codes n’existent plus, les véhicules vont et viennent dans toutes les directions, indifféremment sur la voie de gauche ou de droite.
Je déniche une petite chambre à moins de 10 euros. Honnêtement, elle n’en vaut pas le tiers. Chambre en sous-sol, sans fenêtre, à la propreté douteuse. Elle fera l’affaire…
Une plâtrée de pâtes et je me perds dans les ruelles de Kandy parsemées de plusieurs temples.
L’attraction de la cité, outre le paisible lac, est le Temple de la Dent , lieu vénéré par les bouddhistes car il renferme une relique d’une dent de bouddha. Il s’avère être une imposture touristique car on ne peut voir la dent qui, par ailleurs, n’est qu’une copie. Hormis ce détail, les fidèles vêtus de blanc se pressent au milieu des fleurs, la foule est belle…
Promenade le long du lac, quelques courses.
J’hésitais à prendre une journée de repos à Kandy mais déjà, l’appel de la route me démange. Je partirai demain pour Nuwara Eliya.
Je retrouve à l’hôtel deux français rencontrés hier et deux allemands voyageant à vélo. Ces derniers projettent également de parcourir la même route et s’interrogent autant que moi sur les reliefs qui nous attendent.
En effet, depuis mon arrivée au Sri Lanka, à chaque fois que j’annonce que je vais rejoindre Nuwara Eliya (1886 m d’altitude) à vélo, les sri lankais me disent que je suis fou, qu’il s’agit d’une zone de montagne et que personne ne la parcourt à vélo. 75 km dont 50 d’ascension sont au programme…
Bref, s’il faut que je monte dans un camion, je le ferai.
Je règle mon réveil à 5h30.
Kandy – Nuwara Eliya Jour 75 km Total : 351 km
C’est fait, j’ai rejoint, sur ma selle, Nuwara Eliya !
Je suis donc parti vers 6h15, accompagné des deux allemands. Petit résumé de ma promenade…
Nous sortons de Kandy (400 m d’altitude), il fait à peine jour et la ville se réveille à peine. Je hume avec plaisir les diverses fumées matinales transpercées par une douce lumière. Belle ambiance.
Pendant 20 kilomètres, la route est à peu près plate.
Mes compagnons d’échappée impriment un rythme soutenu. Pourtant, ils pédalent en sandales/chaussettes et ne semblent pas décidés à s’arrêter alors qu’un bruit anormal, sur l’un de leur vélo, se produit à chaque tour de roue. Je suis impressionné par tant d’aisance. Deux scénarii se profilent : ils sont très entraînés et j’aurai des difficultés à les suivre ou ils se brûleront les ailes.
La route s’élève peu à peu, je les distance, les attends, les distance à nouveau, je ne les reverrai jamais.
Il me reste une quarantaine de kilomètres d’ascension. J’ai adopté un rythme régulier, mes sensations sont bonnes, les paysages superbes.
Arrêt à Pusselawa. Les samosas sont spicy, very spicy mais la pause sur les marches d’une petite échoppe me requinque.
Les choses sérieuses commencent. La route s’élève avec insolence, les plantations de thé bordent le ruban d’asphalte, les femmes, courbées, ramassent inlassablement les précieuses feuilles. Lorsque leur sac déborde, elles l’emmènent à la pesée, promesse de quelques roupies gagnées à la sueur de leur front…
Certaines parties sont raides, parfois très raides. 10 km/h, puis 8 km/h. Bientôt 6 km/h, enfin 5 km/h . En dessous de cette vitesse, le vélo peine à garder son équilibre et mieux vaut marcher.
La chaleur est étouffante, la sueur me coule dans les yeux provoquant de pénibles picotements. Je vide les bouteilles d’eau, de jus, de soda, les unes après les autres. Il m’arrive de boire 10 litres de liquide par jour depuis mon départ. Aujourd’hui, je bois encore davantage…
Je m’arrête sur le bord de la route. Une petite, très petite dame souhaite monter sur mon vélo. Les tentatives sont vaines, la selle est sans doute trop haute…
60 km, 60,2 km, 60,3 km, 60,35 km… Les kilomètres à 6 km/h défilent à un rythme désespérément lent.
Un tuktuk me double et m’invite à m’accrocher. Je ne me fais pas prier pendant une cinquantaine de mètres avant de lâcher prise, honteux de ne pas gagner cette ville à la force des mollets et conscient du danger que cela peut représenter…
Le kilomètre 70 est franchi lorsque je passe sous une banderole. Je n’ai plus besoin de lever les yeux pour voir la route. Cette dernière plonge dans la vallée. Un col, une banderole, une « victoire ». Tous les ingrédients du Tour de France sont réunis, et, pour ma part, je viens de remporter la plus belle étape ! Plus sérieusement, je suis satisfait et soulagé de filer à toute allure vers Nuwara Eliya.
Chambre miteuse, prix dérisoire. Il est 12h30.
Nuwara Eliya est une petite station d’altitude, entourée de plantations de thé, adoptant quelques détails "so british". Le golf, par exemple, dénote avec le centre-ville typiquement sri lankais.
Je déjeune, je me repose dans le joli Parc Victoria, je prends des photos dans le bazar, je bois un petit café crème, j’ai mal aux jambes.
Nuwara Eliya - Ella Jour : 58 km Total : 409 km
Mauvaise nuit, je suis crevé.
Je décolle vers 7h30. Il fait un froid glacial, je grelotte dans mes manches courtes.
La route descend en pente douce au travers de paysages verdoyants. Comme chaque jour, je m’enchante du réveil de la rue : balayeurs, écoliers, fidèles, commerçants… Au ralenti, la journée se met en marche.
A la faveur d’un virage, la vue s’étend sans la limite et la chaleur fait subitement son apparition.
Je n’ai pas pris le temps d’étudier la carte. Je tâtonne, je doute, j’interroge les passants.
A welimada, je retrouve ma position sur ma carte. C’est également dans cette ville qu’un virage à droite met un terme à des kilomètres de descente et annonce des kilomètres d’ascension. La pente est douce, la route étroite et calme, les rizières et plantations de thé qui la bordent me comblent… Quel bonheur !
Bandarawala est une ville sri lankaise, à savoir poussière, circulation impossible et toutes sortes de boutiques.
Petite pause samosa et je repars pour 7 km de descente.
La route qui mène à Ella est défoncée, criblée de nids de poules et s’élève en traversant les plantations de thé.
Il est 11h00, j’ai tout l’après-midi pour me reposer d’autant plus que le bourg, qui n’est qu’une succession d’hôtels et de restaurants, n’a guère à offrir au visiteur. Les environs sont néanmoins superbes.
Repos, lessive, hydratation et discussions.
Ella – Tissamaharama Jour : 102 km Total 511 km
Ils sont tous avec manteau et bonnet. Le patron de la guesthouse m’avait prévenu: "le matin, il fait froid à Ella". A vue de nez, il doit faire 18°c, je m’en remettrai !
Le revêtement est exécrable, la pente raide. Généralement, les descentes me permettent de me reposer mais les trois premiers kilomètres de la journée mettent à rude épreuve mes nerfs et mes patins de frein qui fument littéralement, tant je les sollicite. Les jantes sont bouillantes, je crains que les pneus n’explosent. Je fais quelques arrêts pour leur permettre de refroidir. Un comble !
La qualité de la route s’améliore, je dévale la montagnes à près de 60 km/h, et, lentement, discrètement, sans m’en rendre compte, je gagne la plaine.
Une petite piste s’enfuit vers l’ouest, peu après Wellawaya. Au bout du chemin, au bout du monde, se trouvent les bouddhas de Buduruwagala . L’itinéraire qui y mène traverse des plantations verdoyantes et des étangs peuplés d’oiseaux et de varans.
Le site est aussi inattendu qu’impressionnant. Un immense rocher (20 m x 100 m) dans lequel sont sculptés des bouddhas monumentaux (9ème siècle ), le tout, dissimulé dans un bois. Un mélange d’Abu Simbel et des regrettés bouddhas de Bamiyan.
Lorsque j’arrive, je suis seul. Trois français me rejoignent. Nous quittons les lieux avant qu’un bus de touristes sri lankais n’arrive. Les lieux se dévoilent lorsqu’on profite du privilège de la solitude.
Je pars au bon moment…
Alors que je sirote un jus de banane à proximité du site, des militaires armés en entraînement surgissent. Ils sont près d’une centaine, empruntent la piste et disparaissent au prochain virage.
Je me remets en selle, et, au milieu de la chaussée, j’aperçois une masse sombre. Suffisamment proche, je distingue un militaire, seul, couché à même le sol. A mon passage, des dizaines de soldats armés sortent des fossés en hurlant. Quelques uns empoignent l’homme à terre et le traînent à l’abri. Je passe stupéfait au milieu de ce vacarme. Lorsque je m’éloigne, les cris continuent et des coups de feu se font entendre (à blanc j’imagine…). Je pense à ce moment-là : « Eh les gars, il y a des endroits pour faire ça, on est sur la voie publique ! »
Je retrouve satisfait l’A2, direction plein sud. Je roule à 26/27 km/h, je vole presque. J’aperçois un grand nombre de varans traversant la route.
Après 70 km, je m’arrête déjeuner dans une cabane de bord de route. Aussitôt, les enfants prennent mon vélo d’assaut et insistent pour être pris en photo devant. Pour 150 rs (1 euro), on me sert une grande assiette. Je ne reconnais aucun des ingrédients hormis le riz et le poisson. Un délice, épicé et inconnu.
Je repars pour la trentaine de kilomètres qu’il me reste à parcourir.
Un délice inconnu mais surtout épicé ! En plus d’avoir les jambes et les bras en feu, j’ai désormais tout l’appareil digestif en combustion par 35°c à l’ombre…
J’atteins Tissamaharama vers 13h30 . Je négocie avec patience et pugnacité un lit que j’obtiens avec une bonne réduction. Conséquence : j’ai une belle chambre spacieuse et propre, avec eau chaude et donnant sur un joli jardin ombragé. Je vais donc y rester deux nuits, j’ai quelques lieux à visiter dans les environs.
Je me repose une bonne heure puis pars en direction du grand Dagoba blanc (stupa) visible de tous les environs. Haut de 55,80 m, il attire, tel un phare, les nombreux fidèles.
A proximité du dagoba, des canaux louvoient entre la route et les rizières. Ces derniers sont assaillis par les sri lankais : baignades et bain pour échapper à la forte chaleur qui sévit dans l’après-midi. Me voyant passer avec mon appareil photo, certains insistent pour que je prenne des clichés. Ce sont des scènes de joie, de liesse auxquelles j’assiste. Une ambiance paisible et rieuse…
A l’hôtel, Lakshita me prête son pc afin que je sauvegarde mes photos.
c'est un peu comme en Inde,
beaucoup de sri lankais, me voyant avec mon appareil photo, me demandaient un cliché. La plupart n'avaient pas d'adresse email mais le simple fait de découvrir leur image sur l'écran, les ravissait.
J'en ai des dizaines, je ne peux pas toutes les mettre !
Tissamaharama – Katagarama – Kirinda – Tissamaharama Jour : 62 km Total 573 km
Non pas "jour de repos" mais "jour de non-progression".
Je désire ce matin assister à une Puja (cérémonie d’offrandes) dans un grand temple bouddhiste de Katagarama. 16 km me séparent de cette ville, distance que je parcours allégé (sans sacoche). Muznae, tient une petite boutique située face à l’entrée du temple. Il me garde mon vélo le temps de la visite.
Après m’être déchaussé, c’est un festival de couleurs et d’odeurs.
A l’entrée du temple, un homme possédant une petite balance me propose de me peser. Je me déleste de mon appareil photo et de ma bouteille d’eau. 4,5 kg de plus que le jour de mon départ ! Ça vaut bien la peine de pédaler tous les jours ! (Balance défectueuse, j’en suis certain, je l'espère...)
Je retourne déjeuner à Tissa.
Dans l’après-midi, je me dirige vers Kirinda, petit bourg en bordure de mer, dominé par un immense bouddha orange.
Après avoir fait un détour par la plage 100% sri lankaise, je laisse à nouveau mon vélo dans la boutique d’une petite dame souriante et je me hisse jusqu’au temple. Le temps est menaçant, je ne traîne pas.
4,5 kg de plus que le jour de mon départ ! Ça vaut bien la peine de pédaler tous les jours ! (Balance défectueuse, j’en suis certain, je l'espère...)
Je retourne déjeuner à Tissa.
Visiblement, ça ne t'a pas donné un coup au moral cette subite prise de poids ! 😏
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Tissamaharama – Tangalle Jour : 80 km (72 + 8) Total : 653 km
Le vent est favorable. A partir de Hambantota, j’ai même le droit à une route à doubles voies désertes. Je file.
Encore une attaque de chien.
J’arrive à Tangalle et retrouve avec plaisir une petite chambre sordide avec un lit sans drap. La moustiquaire est criblée de trous, le ventilateur ronfle , craque et couine, les deux lézards qui occupaient la chambre avant moi ne semblent pas décider à quitter les lieux… Cette piaule est néanmoins bien placée, au rez-de-chaussée, juste en face de la plage, ce qui signifie qu’en cas de tsunami, je n’ai aucune chance.
Je déjeune face à l’océan, change de l’argent et retourne à l’hôtel. Déjà, le ciel se voile...
C’est le moment idéal choisi par les nuages menaçants pour déverser leurs millions de litres d’eau. Je suis au sec et attends que le déluge cesse.
A peine une heure de pluie et je repars à vélo explorer les environs.
Je rencontre Tony, pêcheur qui a perdu toute sa famille lors du tsunami de 2004. Il propose de m’emmener en mer avec son équipe. Départ le lendemain à 2h00 du matin. Je décline. Il m’invite alors sur son bateau pour m’expliquer son travail, me présenter à ses coéquipiers et me faire visiter son embarcation. Les thons et les espadons qu’il pêche sont envoyés au Japon. Achetés 10 euros le kilo, ils y sont revendus une fortune.
Je récupère mon vélo gardé par deux de ses amis et reprends ma promenade
Je croise par hasard les français rencontrés aux bouddhas de Buduruwagala et deux allemands avec qui j’avais discuté à Tissa. Les retrouvailles sont amicales, ils m’ont aperçu sur la route.
Je dois être le seul à ne pas me baigner ici. Je préfère me perdre et photographier.
24/02/2015
Tangalle-Mirissa Jour : 81 km (53 + 28) Total : 734 km
Je crois que je commence à comprendre les chiens sri lankais. Encore deux attaques ce matin.
Un chien est susceptible de m’attaquer lorsqu’il est laid (ce n’est pas rationnel mais c’est observé), lorsqu’il vit à la campagne, lorsqu’il n’y a pas de circulation, lorsque le jour se lève (il n’est pas encore abattu par la chaleur).
Dans la fraîcheur matinale, j’ai donc traversé des campagnes sur des routes peu passantes. J’y ai croisé des chiens laids qui n’on pas manqué de me courir après…
J’arrive à Mirissa après 53 km.
Mirissa est une plage paradisiaque. Les touristes se prélassent sur les chaises longues posées à même le sable, les restaurants proposent des cartes internationales et diffusent sans retenue les musiques actuelles. Trop de monde pour moi, je poursuis la route qui mène à Weligama. Entre ces deux villes, un panneau indique une petite guesthouse sur la gauche. Abritée à l’ombre des palmiers, l’imposante bâtisse m’offre, pour une dizaine d’euros, une chambre vaste et bien tenue donnant sur un petit jardin. La plage, accessible par un sentier, est située à moins de 50 mètres. La plage est paradisiaque car hormis le cadre exceptionnel, elle est déserte !
Je prends ensuite la direction de Weligama (ouest) et découvre avec ravissement de jolies petites criques préservées, des bateaux peinturlurés et un stupa isolé.
Je retourne à l’hôtel et me laisse tenter par un bain de mer. Je n’allais pas quitter le Sri Lanka sans m’être trempé. D’autant plus que je transporte mon maillot de bain depuis 700 km. Il me faut donc l’utiliser… Eau à 27°c…
Les vaches arpentent la longue bande de sable sous le soleil couchant.
Je retrouve Alex, Clem, Johanna et Anaïs pour le dîner qui se prolonge en jeu de cartes.
Mirissa-Hikkaduwa via Galle Jour: 66 km (52 +14) Total: 800 km
Départ pour Galle. La route est un enchantement : pêcheurs, cocotiers, sable blanc…
Galle Je passe à 9h00 l’imposante porte qui permet de passer au-delà des épais remparts édifiées par les hollandais au 17ème siècle. J’attache mon vélo en face d’un restaurant et laisse au restaurateur mes sacoches. Je pars donc à pied, sous une chaleur difficilement supportable.
Remparts, ruelles, églises, plages. L’image renvoyée n’est pas celle du Sri Lanka. La promenade est cependant agréable.
Je discute une demi-heure avec quelques chauffeurs de tuktuks qui ont travaillé au Qatar, au Koweït, aux Emirats Arabes Unis … Le vendeur de tickets de loto vient troubler nos bavardages. L’un des chauffeurs en achète dix et me confie la responsabilité de les choisir à sa place. Il prend mon numéro de téléphone et m’assure qu’en cas de gain important, il me fait visiter le Sri Lanka gratuitement pendant un mois avec ma famille.
Apple pie salvateur à l’ombre d’une terrasse.
J’avais prévu de loger à Galle. A 12h00, j’ai fait le tour, je remonte donc sur ma selle sous un soleil de plomb. Le vent me pousse, il n’y a donc aucune ventilation.
J’atteins Hikkaduwa, je suis rincé, abattu par la chaleur. Trois hôtels complets. Je trouve pour 2000rs une jolie petite chambre dans un jardin ombragé. 2h30 assis sur une chaise à récupérer. Mon organisme a été violenté.
Hikkaduwa est le repère des surfeurs, des mecs cools et chevelus marchant pieds nus. C’est ici aussi que tous les russes semblent s’être donnés rendez-vous. Les plages sont belles, sans plus. Elles sont surtout envahies par les restaurants et les bars. Je suis ravi d’apprendre que ce soir, comme tous les soirs, aura lieu une immense soirée beuverie sur la plage. L'israélien qui me donne le tuyau ne s'est visiblement pas remis de celle d'hier. A moins qu'il n'ait déjà commencé celle d'aujourd'hui...
Je me demande ce que je fais là, je dois être le seul à ne pas m’adonner aux joies de l’horizontalité balnéaire. A vrai dire, mon bronzage de cycliste dénoterait…
Je rencontre Malid alors que je cherche le lac situé au sud de la ville. Le garçon de 14 ans me guide à vélo le long de la voie ferrée jusqu’à une petite crique. Des gamins immergés, en bonnet de bain, s’appliquent à reproduire les gestes élémentaires de natation. C’est là que Trisham, maître nageur, donne bénévolement des cours , ce qui ne l’empêche pas de les abandonner pendant 20 minutes pour me décrire avec précision ce qui borde et ceux qui peuplent le lac.
Quelques courses et je vais dîner alors qu’il n’est pas 18h00. Avantage de loger dans un haut lieu du tourisme : dévorer une pizza, idée qui me chatouillait depuis quelques jours déjà.
Si le vent ne change pas de sens, je l’aurai dans le dos jusqu’à Negombo.
Mon objectif demain est de contourner Colombo. La circulation dans la capitale est infernale. Je vais donc me déporter vers l’est sans m’approcher du centre ville. Je repère sur internet une chambre qui se trouve à peu près sur mon itinéraire prévisionnel. Je préfère la réserver tant les possibilités de logement sont rares dans les parages.
Hikkaduwa – Maharagama Jour : 117 km Total : 917 km
Je quitte ma chambre à 7h30. Je ne trouve personne pour régler mon dû. Le réceptionniste ronfle, allongé à même le sol, derrière son bureau. Je laisse donc en évidence sur mon lit la somme correspondante et reprends la route. 2 km passés, je me dis que si les billets disparaissent, il me sera bien difficile de prouver ma bonne foi. J’ai déjà la moitié des chiens du pays à mes trousses, manquerait plus que la police suive ma trace.
Je remonte plein nord la côte sur une soixantaine de kilomètres. Quelques grands hôtels, des plages moins belles qu’au sud et une circulation qui s’intensifie à mesure que j’approche de la capitale.
Kalutara passée et après avoir connu quelques frayeurs avec des bus, je prends la clé des champs et emprunte une petite route sans circulation.
Je sens à nouveau l’odeur de la végétation, j’entends à nouveau les murmures, les cris et les chants qui s’échappent derrière les murs d’école.
J’avance rapidement, je repère avec attention ma progression sur la carte.
90ème kilomètre, je parviens à une intersection que je ne peux pas identifier. Je demande, on m’explique. S’en suivent près de deux heures de déroute en plein cagnard. A droite, à gauche, les avis divergent et chaque interlocuteur affirme avoir raison.
Heureusement que j’ai pris soin d'écrire l’adresse de mon logement, elle ne m’est cependant pas d’une grande utilité. Je suis perdu. Pourtant, l’orientation, je connais. Je ne m’explique pas cette perdition. Peut-être ces nouvelles routes ne sont-elles pas inscrites sur ma carte obsolète ?
Je décide de rouler jusqu’à atteindre un axe majeur. Je bifurque sur une route embouteillée, enfumée et assourdissante. La ville qui m’est annoncée se trouve à l’opposé de celle que je cherche.
Demi-tour pendant plusieurs kilomètres.
C’est alors qu’un chauffeur de tuktuk, me voyant inspecter avec minutie ma carte, me vient en aide. Je lui montre l’adresse. Sa maison est voisine de celle que je cherche. Il m’invite à le suivre. Je pédale comme un forcené pour ne pas perdre sa trace. Je suis abattu par la chaleur. A gauche, à droite, route principale, à droite, route secondaire, à droite, ruelle, à droite, impasse.
La maison tant convoitée n’a aucun panneau, aucune enseigne, aucun nom. Jamais je ne l'aurais trouvée seul. Le chauffeur de tuktuk sonne. Pas de réponse. Il insiste. Pas de réponse. Il crie, hurle, gesticule… Pas de réponse. Je doute.
Un tuktuk passe. Le mien l’apostrophe. Je ne cherche pas à comprendre comment et pourquoi le chauffeur providentiel possède le numéro de téléphone des propriétaires de la maison.
L’affaire est réglée, une minute passe et le portail s’ouvre. Délivrance, merci les gars ! Nanda et Theekshana m’accueillent avec gentillesse, douceur et un café dans leur superbe villa. Un havre de paix.
Quelques courses et repos bien mérité.
27/02/2015
Maharagama – Negombo Jour : 86 km (74+12) Total : 1003 km
Petit déjeuner "en famille".
La Main road est très encombrée. Les routes secondaires le sont tout autant. Peu à peu la circulation se dissipe.
A 20 km de l’arrivée, les nuages menaçants vers lesquels je me dirigeais déversent leurs flots avec une violence inouïe. Je suis à l’abri. Une demi-heure à patienter et je me remets en selle sous une pluie fine. Encore une demi-heure et les paysages, la chaussée et le cycliste que je suis sont secs.
J’entre dans Negombo. Je ne veux pas arriver. Je fais quelques détours, prends quelques photos.
Vers 12h00, Patrick m’accueille enthousiaste. J’ai 991 km au compteur.
Si je veux intituler mon carnet « 1000 km au Sri Lanka », il m’en reste quelques uns à parcourir.
J’ai quelques courses à faire, quelques bricoles à ramener à mes enfants. Après un chopsuey avalé (dont seul Patrick a le secret), je retourne au centre ville.
Lorsque je rentre dans la cour de la guesthouse, j’ai 1003 km au compteur.
Je nettoie mon vélo, prends une douche.
Merci à celles et ceux qui ont suivi ce carnet.
Je posterai bientôt quelques remarques pratiques liées à la pratique du vélo au Sri Lanka.
L'ensemble des photos est présent sur mon site.
C'est curieux, il y a 2 ou 3 carnets ces temps-ci qui me font revenir en mémoire des images, des rencontres...
Ton Sri Lanka est tellement différent de celui que j'ai connu il y a bien longtemps ! Alors, par exemple, les rues de Kandy n'étaient pas encombrées comme maintenant, on s'y promenait tranquillement, les "endroits à touristes" n'existaient pas à ce point, on rencontrait beaucoup plus de vaches que de chiens sur les routes, les plages étaient immensément désertes, etc.
Stoooooop, je ne suis pas là pour raconter mon voyage 😮 !
J'ai bien aimé ton carnet -y compris les photos, oui oui. Tu fais partager ton périple en allant à l'essentiel, on souffre avec toi dans les montées, on sourit avec toi dans l'admiration des paysages, on écoute vos bavardages, on a envie de jeter des cailloux aux chiens gourmands de mollets...
Merci pour ces agréables moments de lecture 🙂
Dolma
un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage...
Déjà fini ?
Dis donc, je n'ai même pas senti les km avalés ! 😇
Merci pour ce récit et les belles photos qui l'accompagnent. ( tu vois, même Dolma a apprécié tes photos 😏 )
Je ne connais pas le Sri Lanka, mais tu m'as drôlement donné envie d'y aller...
Et quel sera ton prochain voyage ?
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Nous rentrons de 17 jours au SRI LANKA (02 au 19 Mai 2012), à une période ‘creuse’ (mai / juin) et donc moins de touristes J. Juillet et août le sont beaucoup…
Voici le compte rendu orienté "infos pratiques et coûts" de nos 2 semaines passées au Sri Lanka, mon mari, ma fille et moi-même du 16 au 30 juillet 2016. Nos…
C’est fou comme certaines expériences inoubliables démarrent. Octobre 2009, surfant au hasard, certainement plus pour tuer le temps ou s’évader sur des sites…
Je rentre d'un voyage de 2 semaines au Sri Lanka. Un vrai régal!! Voici quelques infos pratiques qui vous aideront peut-être à préparer ce magnifique voyage…
Après avoir fait 3 semaines au Sri Lanka de fin janvier à mi février, je partage ici notre parcours et nos expériences. Nous sommes deux sportifs, nous étions…
I’d been wanting to discover Sulawesi for years. But then life happened—COVID, the cost of flight tickets, you name it. Long story short, years went by, but we finally set off as a family for a three-week trip in southern Sulawesi: Rammang Rammang, Rantepao, Sengkang, Bira, and Selayar.
I like to spend a good amount of time in the places I visit, giving myself the chance to really get to know the area and meet locals. So no island-hopping this time—just the south. But when I say "just," it’s not restrictive at all, given how rich this island is in landscapes, little encounters, and magical moments.
Wednesday 07/08 - Thursday 07/09:
We left Montpellier for what was supposed to be five flights, though we only took four to start, landing in Jakarta.
We picked up our luggage there to catch a flight to Makassar the next day. That’s the only way we could get an affordable ticket (702 €).
I won’t bore you with the flight details—there’s not much to say. We arrived at 7 PM and considered heading straight to Makassar that evening. But we opted for a recovery night before taking off again. Good thing we did, because my son’s suitcase was missing...
First contact with the locals was a bit stressful—a trip without your luggage isn’t exactly fun. But right away, a woman reassured us: the suitcase was just enjoying some extra time in Singapore. Maybe it was doing some last-minute shopping. Anyway, nothing serious—it was supposed to arrive at 9 AM the next day. That gave us some breathing room since our flight wasn’t until noon.
So off we went to our hotel (Days Hotel & Suites) near the airport. It was cheap (40 € for three rooms—my kids are older and need their space), but it wasn’t worth much more. The place had definitely seen better days. But no big deal—we were only there for the night, and... we got to watch France beat Morocco in the World Cup live at 3 AM. That’s what really mattered!
Friday 07/10: In search of the lost suitcase
First challenge of the morning: finding our missing suitcase. They sent us to the airport basement, to the staff entrance. We were greeted with smiles, and an airport employee led me through the underground corridors back to the baggage claim. Right on time at 9 AM, the suitcase arrived, just like they’d promised. We were finally complete!
Off we went to change terminals, grab a well-deserved meal, and board our fifth flight to Makassar.
Little side note: I struggled for a while trying to book domestic flights directly on the airlines’ websites with no luck. Without meaning to advertise (though I guess I am a little), I realized it’d be easier to use sites like tiket.com or Traveloka. That turned out to be a great choice—I even ended up booking hotels through them later in the trip.
12:40 PM: We were on our way to Makassar. First good news: we were the only tourists. Well, the only European tourists on the flight, anyway.
No, you’re not dreaming—the bag is full of... potato chip packets.
To each their own souvenirs, I guess...
When we arrived in Makassar, a driver was waiting to take us straight to Rammang Rammang: 250,000 IDR (12 €) to our guesthouse (Rammang Rammang House). Forget about meeting people on the bus—we were headed straight to the first stop of our trip, and it was already stunning.
My kids’ guesthouse:
Ours:
View of the little lake:
But not everything is straightforward around here.
I wanted to get a local SIM card for internet and calls. I found them expensive at Jakarta’s airport (20 € for 20 GB), so I decided to wait. Well, no luck in Rammang Rammang either. You can’t just buy one from the local shop—you need a Telkomsat store (they have the best coverage). So we’d have to wait for Rantepao to get Wi-Fi... When I say "local shop," I mean the little shack around the corner. No big deal—we’d find one easily in Rantepao for 5 € and 25 GB. So there we were, offline, just the four of us enjoying the amazing view.
Saturday 07/11: Rammang Rammang
We woke up early to the sound of wedding music blasting through the village (everyone’s invited!). Off we went to explore the area.
A little walking, a little boat ride (shared with a French tourist and a Polish one—yes, there *are* tourists here, just not many; 750,000 IDR for up to 8 people) through a lovely canal, and we discovered the karst site. It was peaceful and beautiful.
The river:
The karst site:
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Preamble:
Africa was calling to me, so a year ago, with our usual travel companions, we decided to return to the continent we love so much.
Where to go?
Uganda quickly caught our attention—wildlife we’re used to seeing, plus gorillas and the shoebill we missed in Zambia.
We got in touch with Paul, who’s been mentioned several times on the forum back in September, booked our flight tickets, secured the gorilla permits, and by early October, the most important things were done.
We still had plenty of time to hold our "prep meetings" for the final itinerary.
Three days before departure, I sprained my ankle (my weak spot, as you’ll recall from our Colombia trip).
I wasn’t in great spirits, but after a year of waiting, nothing was going to stop me.
We’d see how it goes!
Off we went for our new adventures
It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather,
A season that only exists in the southwest of America,
I remember very well what I told you that morning
A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago...
We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...
Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!
To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"
As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”
This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...
Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.
Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!
La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.
Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.
Some practical info:
- The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side.
- We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €.
- The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen.
- Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day.
- Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.
Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!
I could have titled my travel journal like Carmen: "Some trips are born twice." Indeed, we had considered this destination back in February 2020. However, an honest tour operator advised us against traveling at that time due to the climate. So, we gave up and opted for Guatemala instead (see "On the Mayan Lands" on this site).
So, why this title? When I was in primary school, over 65 years ago, the illustrations in my history books (Machu Picchu) and geography books (Lake Titicaca) made me dream, and those images stayed in my mind. It took until 2026 to finally make this dream come true!
We prepared our trip with Tout Pérou, a French-speaking "agency." Everything was handled via email and WhatsApp exchanges with our contact: Laurent, who was both competent, friendly, and full of good advice.
For 200 €, Tout Pérou provided us with drivers and guides whenever we wanted, helped us buy our domestic flights (cheaper when purchased in Peru), booked shuttles between airports and hotels, and got us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, as well as on the buses between Chivay and Puno and between Puno and Cusco. In short, Laurent took care of all the logistics and the Machu Picchu tickets. It was up to us to book our hotels. Tout Pérou provided a list, but we weren’t obliged to follow it. Another advantage of the package: we didn’t have to pay in advance; we paid the service providers directly day by day.
We didn’t meet Laurent in person because he was on vacation in Europe. Before his departure, he gave us a briefing, provided a summary table with the entire program, the service providers, their phone numbers, their fees, the schedules, and gave us plenty of advice (money, exchange, safety, etc.). After returning at the end of our stay, he kept checking in on us.
Lastly, we had also gathered information from Arnaud Lagadec, who runs a hotel in Cusco and offers tours of the region. He gave us a lot of useful information. Another contact: Thomas Montaigne, very friendly, who runs an agency in Arequipa (Agence Pérou Exclusif).
Day 1 – Paris to Lima
Foreword
I’ll share our trip without any pretension—I don’t have the talent of some contributors on this forum—and I’ll illustrate it with a few photos (taken with an ordinary smartphone). My comments are personal and only reflect my own views. So, please be kind! Feel free to comment on my story as you like, but let’s avoid pointless debates.
Even though we live in the south of the Paris region, true to our habits when the flight is in the morning, we chose to spend the night before our departure in a hotel near CDG and parked our car in a parking lot in Garches. This way, we avoid the stress that often comes with traveling around Paris (accidents, roadworks, traffic jams, etc.).
Check-in and border control went smoothly on that Sunday morning. Our Air France flight was uneventful. In Lima, border control took a particularly long time, and for the first time, we didn’t get an entry visa stamped in our passports.
As planned, a driver took us to the Miraflores district, where our hotel was located. We were surprised by the numerous signs about possible tsunamis, having forgotten that Peru is prone to such events and regularly experiences earthquakes. We’d see the consequences of these during our journey.
Exhausted from the early wake-up, the 13-hour flight, and the 7-hour time difference, we had dinner at the hotel before a restful night.
Note that this day was Peru’s presidential election day. As a result, we weren’t served beer—the sale of alcohol was banned that Sunday.
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
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 actually interest anyone other than myself (both for the discovery and the writing). But after a few "Are you going to write a journal?" requests and especially the renewed pleasure from reading other travelers’ travel journals about Japan or elsewhere on this forum or elsewhere, I’ve decided to share this 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 this year, as usual.
I regularly check flight prices to track fluctuations for this destination, even without concrete plans. Finding 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 long hesitations between exploring the San’in region (Matsue, Tottori, Yamaguchi) and southern Shikoku, the decision was made—I took the plunge! The tickets are 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 still better than in 2023.
We leave in 2 weeks!! Now it’s just a matter of getting everything ready!
Intense work ahead in these 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 taking time to revisit beloved spots...
decide how much time to spend in each selected 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 as we go, but last year, we noticed that last-minute options were pretty expensive, so we’re booking ahead—even if it means keeping a few options open while we decide or see if 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—and whether we’ll be stuck in non-stop rain???
What a tough job, right? Traveling to Japan for a month—such a hard 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 tickets, there were only a few seats left, so we’re only sitting together on the international return flight. Plus, on the outbound flight, we’ve got the 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 almost time to fly!
PS: I’ll be posting slowly and irregularly... so for those interested, be patient or maybe set an alert...
Okay, Palermo—we know it. We go there to marvel at the architectural wonders born from the Arab-Norman-Byzantine-Gothic mix. And rightly so. We also go to treat our taste buds to all kinds of delights, both savory and sweet. Again, rightly so. We go to succumb to the charms of Palermo’s women, their sun-kissed skin glowing with golden highlights. Still, rightly so. And all while fantasizing about a mafia we’ll never actually see. Anyway.
But you’ll also find street art everywhere, even in the historic center. Sometimes, you just need to step a few meters away from the main tourist highways like Cassaro, Via Maqueda, or the main arteries of the Ballarò, Capo, or Vucciria markets to stumble upon some amazing murals. Duck into one or two slightly grimy alleys, weaving past trash and crumbling walls, and you’ll find real gems.
For example, just 50 meters south of the main artery of the Mercato del Capo, there’s a great spot with dozens of murals in a tiny neighborhood of run-down mini-houses. You’ll find plenty more south of the Mercato di Ballarò, in the Albergheria (the grittier side, not the one near Cassaro). There’s some in Ballarò itself too, but it’s hard to spot when the market’s in full swing with stalls everywhere. La Kalsa isn’t left out either, nor is Vucciria—just step away from the restaurant-packed streets.
Here are a few examples that really caught my eye.
(In the heart of Albergheria, on a street every visitor walks down—lovely message from an unidentified artist)
Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe).
In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko.
I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip.
Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest.
The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days.
As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.
Transportation:
An ICOCA card is essential.
I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.
Accommodations:
Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.
Meals:
For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés.
For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen.
Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima.
Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima.
A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto.
Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi).
Tempura and gyoza.
Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal.
One omakase meal (9 different dishes).
In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef.
Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.
The Itinerary:
Day 1: Departure from Brussels
Day 2: Arrival in Osaka
Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki
Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi
Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido
Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima
Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade
Day 8: To Miyajima
Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto
Day 10: Southern Kyoto
Day 11: Northern Kyoto
Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa
Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago)
Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima)
Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto
Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko)
Day 17: To Tokyo
Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura
Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong
Day 20: Arrival in Brussels
Before Our Departure
Preparing for this trip started 9 months before our departure in June. For those planning a similar itinerary, it’s important to book accommodations well in advance, especially in the Okavango and Savuti campsites—otherwise, you might not find any availability.
Introduction
After visiting Zambia three years ago and Namibia and western Botswana a year and a half ago, this year we chose Zimbabwe (Hwange NP) and the northern half of Botswana.
Our flight from Paris was to Victoria Falls with Ethiopian Airlines, with a layover in Addis Ababa. We rented a 4x4 from Bushlore in Kasane, complete with two rooftop tents since there are four of us on this adventure. Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4 and, most importantly, gave us a rundown of the vehicle and its equipment. Pay close attention to what they tell you—it could be crucial if something goes wrong, as it did for us during the trip.
Our Itinerary
We arrived on June 12th at noon. At Victoria Falls Airport, we got our double-entry visa right away—I’d already pre-booked it online on the site https://www.evisa.gov.zw/.
Since our vehicle was in Botswana, we had to cross the border from Victoria Falls into Botswana for the first time.
The next morning, Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4. After completing the formalities, we headed toward Zimbabwe and the town of Victoria Falls.
We woke up early the next morning to be at Victoria Falls at sunrise. The scenery was stunning, but since it was the start of the dry season, the Zambezi was still high, so the falls had a strong flow. This made it hard to fully appreciate their beauty.
In the early afternoon, we left for Hwange NP, where we stayed for 4 days. Two days at Gwango campsite near Dete, followed by two days at Robins Camp. We expected to see more animals at Robins, but that wasn’t the case. In Hwange, we didn’t spot any predators, but we did see plenty of mammals (buffalo, elephants, giraffes, zebras, and antelopes).
After a few days in Zimbabwe, we crossed back into Botswana at Pandamatenga. We stopped at Nata Lodge for a good night’s rest—driving on the dirt roads is exhausting.
We left Nata and headed toward Nxai Pan. The road was sandy but manageable. We made a small detour to admire some beautiful baobabs at "Baines Baobabs." Then we continued to our campsite, Nxai Pan South Camp. Keep in mind that many campsites in Botswana aren’t fenced (except for the shower/toilet areas), so animals can roam freely within the camp. Take precautions, especially after dark.
After our stop in Nxai Pan, we headed to Maun. We decided to break our journey in Maun before heading to Moremi and the Okavango Delta for three reasons: first, we needed to stock up on supplies and fuel for the next 5 days; second, our fridge had broken (luckily, Bushlore has a branch in Maun); and third, the drive from Nxai to our camp in Xakanaxa in the delta would’ve taken too long. I always avoid driving after dark.
We arrived at our Xakanaxa camp on June 21st in the early afternoon. Not wanting to waste time, we booked a boat ride on the Okavango Delta, leaving at 4:00 PM for a 2-hour sunset cruise. For those interested, to the right of the Xakanaxa X1 site, there’s a sign for boat rides. The organizer is very professional and offers prices that are nothing like those of the lodges.
It was a beautiful ride through the delta with a stunning sunset. Being on a boat is much more relaxing than driving on the dirt roads. That didn’t stop us from doing self-drive safaris the next morning and late afternoon, though.
Then came the time to leave the delta and head toward Savuti, a much drier region. And that’s when the toughest part of our trip began. First, we decided to go up via Khwai. The rainy season was over, but the area was still marshy. We had to cross a few small water patches, testing the depth to make sure we could get through. Luckily, a sign on the road pointed us toward a drier route. We reached Khwai without any issues, but then we made a major mistake. Instead of taking the main track toward Mababe Gate to reach Savuti Camp, we took a straight path north and then a right turn to get to our camp. Bad call—we got stuck in the sand, with one rear wheel buried halfway and a front wheel off the ground. We were genuinely scared we wouldn’t get out, especially since we were on a deserted track, 20 kilometers from our destination, with night falling in two hours. This is where paying attention to the vehicle instructions really paid off—we had to use the jack to get out of the mess. The result: we arrived at Savuti campsite just before dark (Distance: 146.3 km, Duration: 9 hours, 56 minutes, and 3 seconds, Average speed: 14.7 km/h, tracked with Osmand). At reception, the staff couldn’t understand how we’d gotten there—we hadn’t passed through any of Savuti’s reserve entry gates.
The next morning, no one felt like driving, so we did a game drive with a guide. I don’t know if it was some kind of reward, but the outing was amazing. We saw three lions and, best of all, a pack of African wild dogs that we had time to admire and photograph. The next day, we did a short self-drive and found one of the lions from the day before drinking at a waterhole. That was the end of our Savuti adventure.
Now we’re heading to Kasane. We returned our vehicle and settled in for our last two nights there. The next morning, since we no longer had a car, we decided to do one last early-morning game drive in Chobe NP. It turned out great—we followed two brother lions and saw plenty of other mammals. The only downside of Chobe is the number of tourists, which was a change from the other parks we’d visited. That said, we’re tourists too, so...
In the evening, we took one last boat ride on the Chobe River to end on a high note with a beautiful sunset.
After a good night’s sleep and plenty of wonderful memories, landscapes, animals, and emotions, it was time to leave. We left early in the morning with the same taxi company as before to cross the border into Zimbabwe one last time and head to the airport, where we took off to return to France.
We landed in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, and headed straight to Kasane in Botswana to pick up our car.
Our vehicle is a 4x4 because in Zambia, it's practically impossible to use anything else, especially in the national parks. I’ve already had the pleasure of visiting South Luangwa National Park—it’s one of the reasons for this trip, the main one being to travel in Africa with one of my sons.
First stop: Livingstone on the banks of the Zambezi River. Along the way, we discovered a lovely restaurant at Socrates with a super-friendly owner (we’ll actually stop there again on our way back). We spent our first night in the rooftop tent after a stunning sunset, accompanied by the grunting of hippos in the river.
The next day, we set off early, heading to Kafue NP. In fact, we’ll always leave early—waking up between 5:00 and 5:30 AM and hitting the road an hour later. Kafue is a lesser-known park, mostly forested, and the animals are skittish because they’re not used to human presence. We crossed the park from south to north and came across various antelopes. Near Lake Itezhi-Tezhi, there are plains where wildlife is easier to spot.
After Kafue, we headed to South Luangwa. This journey requires stops in Mumbwa and Petauke. Two pleasant stops where we found lodges (a nice change from the rooftop tent) at affordable prices and met welcoming people.
For me, South Luangwa is Zambia’s most beautiful park—the river is stunning, the landscapes are gorgeous, and there’s a wide variety of wildlife, including, of course, big cats. A tip for those, like us, who aren’t with a guide: if you’re staying near the park for several days, don’t hesitate to do a "game drive" to scout out where the animals are so you can return the next day with your own vehicle. Of course, in the dry season, you’ll want to focus on waterholes to see the animals—and you’ll need a bit of luck too. The elephant population is growing, and we were lucky enough to see around sixty elephants crossing the Luangwa at dawn, spread across several groups. South Luangwa is the westernmost point of our trip, and we’re now heading east to Lower Zambezi.
Lower Zambezi is Zambia’s side of Mana Pools on the Zimbabwe side. We took a boat ride on the Zambezi to see elephants, hippos, crocodiles, and a multitude of birds living along the water and on the river’s islands. The sunset there is also magnificent.
To explore the park, we followed the waterways parallel to the Zambezi, mostly on the western side (see our route). Lower Zambezi is the last park we visit, and the final leg of our trip will be Victoria Falls.
Victoria Falls—or Mosi-Oa-Tunya ("The Smoke That Thunders")—are truly impressive, even during the dry season. We saw the falls from both countries: in Zambia for the overall view and the bridge that serves as the border, and in Zimbabwe to get as close as possible to the most spectacular parts of the falls.
This marks the end of our trip, which, despite a blown tire on the road, went off without any major issues. Zambia is a beautiful country that immerses you in wild, still-preserved nature.
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?
This travel journal aims to help future travelers (well, I hope so!), since there’s so little information available about this remote archipelago. Big thanks to Lolodesiles and Ayis for answering my questions while I planned this trip!
Context
This is our fourth trip to Indonesia as a couple—after Java-Bali in 2011, Flores-Komodo in 2013, and Sulawesi in 2016—each time for three weeks. It’s also our tenth trip to Southeast Asia overall.
We’re traveling like we have in previous years: with a rough itinerary that often changes based on who we meet, tips from other travelers, how tired we are, or what we’re feeling in the moment. In the Moluccas, it’ll change constantly, mostly depending on transportation.
Our only accommodation booking: the first few nights in Ambon when we arrive.
Planned route (to be refined on the spot): Ambon - Banda Islands - Lease Islands - Ternate - Tidore - Halmahera (between Sofifi and Tobelo) - Morotai and the neighboring unnamed archipelago.
Flights: Lyon-Paris-Singapore on Air France (428 € round-trip), with good meals, champagne, and wine (we like our little comforts when going on vacation 😏). Then Singapore-Jakarta-Ambon on Air Asia and Garuda.
Return flight: Ternate-Jakarta-Singapore on Lion Air, with a 3-day stopover in Singapore before heading home.
Episode 1: Ambon to Banda
Our guesthouse, booked two days before departure, is 45 minutes from Ambon Airport, near Natsepa Beach (northeast of Leihitu). It’s a pretty average beach—quiet on weekdays but packed on Sundays (we saw the difference). It’s lined with warungs.
This rainy day helps us readjust to the atmosphere of this country we love so much.
Our “Solim Guesthouse” is a lovely house with a living/dining room and garden, costing 15 € per night for two, including a hearty breakfast.
Dinner is at Gaba Gaba, a great restaurant just a short walk away, right by the water, recommended by our host. Fun fact: it’s in the Lonely Planet, and it might be the only LP-listed spot in the Moluccas that actually matches the description (the others either don’t exist or have nothing to do with what’s advertised 😠).
For the next two days, the super-friendly owner lends us his scooter. We set off to explore the coastal villages in northern Leihitu (the western part of Ambon Island, which has a weird shape).
Laundry and trucks washed in the same stream.
Liang Beach, described as the island’s most beautiful, is almost gone (climate change or something else?), but the colors are magical.
We continue 25 km toward a snorkeling spot our host recommended, taking a gorgeous, deserted little road through tiny villages in clove plantations (oh, those unforgettable scents!), stunning coves, and dense forest.
We’re greeted dozens of times with “Hello Mister”—a daily routine in the Moluccas. Every time we stop, we pose for photos to be saved on locals’ smartphones. They don’t see tourists often.
We ask for directions to the snorkeling spot (not easy—we only know basic Indonesian like *Selamat pagi*, *siang*, *sore*, and other polite phrases). Not many people know where it is (especially since we never know which village we’re in), but we eventually reach a small village that seems to be the right place. 🙂
We ask a local to take us there by boat (it’s not reachable by land).
The spot is at most 100 meters long, but the coral is in good condition (apparently not dynamited by fishermen, unlike in other parts of this beautiful country where fishing methods are destructive and nature pays the price 😠). The fish are plentiful and diverse. It’s a great start before heading to Banda. We’re happy to have the place to ourselves… though we don’t yet realize we won’t see a single tourist for the rest of the trip!
After two days of rest, we head to Tulehu Port in the morning, aiming for the Banda Islands. We know the journey is often tricky: the Pelni ferry runs twice a month but doesn’t match our dates, the 10-seat Suzi Air plane is always full (you can’t book—you have to show up on Mondays and Fridays), and it’s often canceled due to weather. So we opt for the Tuesday speedboat (which also gets canceled if there are waves or wind), with the next one on Saturday.
We’re used to Indonesian ports—crowded, rusty boats, no English speakers—but we still feel lost. When I ask about the speedboat to Bandaneira, people gesture wildly, someone takes me to the “harbor office,” then tells me there’s no boat, others try to sell me tickets, and some just say, “No boat.”
Luckily, an English-speaking local approaches us and confirms the speedboat is broken. The next one will be Saturday *if* it’s fixed—otherwise, even later. 🤪 😠
We’re crushed. We came here for the Banda Islands… 🙁
We decide waiting five days for a maybe-boat isn’t an option, so we decide to head straight to North Moluccas, which was planned for later. We’re so disappointed we don’t even want to stay in the area. The Lease Islands don’t appeal to us despite what we’ve read, and Seram would deserve its own trip with its remote mountain tribes.
Huge disappointment—we’d been dreaming of Banda for months, with its incredible drop-offs like Bunaken, its islands covered in nutmeg trees, etc. I’d read that Banda is in the world’s top 5, alongside Bunaken (amazing—we went in 2016), Komodo (incredible—we went in 2013), Sipadan, and another spot I’ve forgotten.
We take a taxi back to Ambon (45 minutes) to a travel agency to buy plane tickets to Ternate. There’s a daily ATR72 flight at noon—perfect timing.
Ambon is the capital of South Moluccas (or Central, depending on who you ask!) with 300,000 people. The city doesn’t seem unpleasant, but we don’t stop.
On the plane, there are only about ten passengers for 72 seats. The flight attendants are stunning, as always with Wings Air—clearly, they’re hired for their looks. 😊
Stopover in Bacan—a runway in the middle of coconut trees serving a tiny town—then we fly over countless volcanoes, the last one towering over Ternate.
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.
Bonjour,
De retour sur le forum - et première rédaction d'un espèce de carnet de retour de notre 4ème voyage en Indo.
Contexte : une trentaine de jours, en scooter et en duo, sur Florès (et une petite incursion dans l'archipel de Solor, plus précisément à Lembata (chut, faut pas trop en parler !!!), qui donne envie d'en faire beaucoup plus là bas malgré les infrastructures sporadiques), en partie dans des destinations déjà bien connues du forum (la classique Ruteng / Bajawa / Riung / Moni voir baie de Maumere) ... et qui ne parlera pas du PN de Komodo ou de Wae Rebo, puisque nous n'y sommes pas allés 🏴☠️.
Texte en anglais (issu d'une autre plateforme). Sans nul doute, des traducteurs intelligents ou pas marcheront à merveille en cas d'anglophobie 🤪.
Disponible à toute fin utile pour des détails ou infos.
Equippement : Yam' Nmax 155 ; 2x saccoches cavalières (25L) + sac de selle (30L) + saccoche tunnel (15L pour le matos photo) ; casques et vêtements d'enduro amenés depuis la France.
Itinéraire : boucle depuis Labuan bajo jusqu'à Pulau Lembata ; juillet-août 2026
Road conditions graded from A (excellent) to D (very bad, at least for a Scooter… a CRF/KLX or even honda ADV would do better on that)
D1 : Labuan Bajo – Reok via Ranggoe, Rego & Tagol (130km ; 5hrs). Section LBajo – Rego (90 km ; B) is quite good tarmac, despite a lot of elevation with many small valleys and passes. Rego – Tagol (10km ; D) is a stone road (not gravel), some ascents & very poor condition ; necessary to lower tyre pressure. Tagol – Reok port (22km, quality depends considerably from D to B). Reok port – Towncenter : B. Night @Iffah Homestay (100k for fan room, mandi attached, no breakfast), simple but clean. Notes : path to danau Sano Limbung was closed ; access to Tiwu Pai & Wae Kuli (waterfalls) not permitted in july 2026.
D2 : Reok – Riung via Pota (105km ; 3h-3h30). The road is very narrow in some part, thanks to the uncut bushes (lowering visibility hence extra caution as animals/people can suddenly appear in a turn…) but generally good condition except many eroded sections and some unpaved ones. Grade C/B. 2 nights @Mentos (285k for AC room)
D3 : Boat tour in Riung (booked directly with a captain, 800k for two for private boat incl. lunch and NP fees) + sunset from Watu Mitong Riung (should not be missed).
D4 : Riung – Muku Saki via Mbay (around 100km ; 3h30). Quality varies from A in the vicinity of Mbay to eroded sections (C) in secluded places. Night @Sao Paolo Homestay (250k for fan room with mandi, maybe overpriced but nice house and great food). Note : if you happen to pass by Mbay on Saturday, the market is well worth a stop (cheapest Ikat on the trip : you’ll be asked normal prices providing you’re OK in Bahasa…)
D5 : Muku Saki – Tanjung Kajuwulu (near Ndete) (90km, 3h). Many patholes, eroded (C). Night at Déjà Vu Homestay (220k for a matress on the floor & outside mandi/toilets ; I woud define this as a tourist trap – the quote we had for food was double priced too…)
D6 : Tanjung Kajuwulu – Waiterang (east of Maumere, 55km , 1h30). Pathholes till maumere, then All good (TransFlores), C/A. Night at Sunset Cottage (new concrete room, very serene place ; 270k for AC with bathroom ; much prefered Sunset over Lena House (more customers, more built up).
D7 : Waiterang – Larantuka via Boru and Eputobi (TransFlores ; grade A ; 115km / 2h40). Particularly liked the drink stalls (marked as Rest Area Eputobi) and the out of order aquatic park just before Larantuka (obyej wisata waiplatin). Night @ Dewy Onong Homestay, which is not advertising itself as Larantuka Beach Homestay as some contributor signals here and on goole maps review. Best breakfast of the trip (Cumi Cumi !!!) ; 275k for AC room with bathroom.
D8 : Local Boat (Kapal Kayu) from the main port to Lembata (Lewoleba). Departure 8am ; price 60k/head + 50k for the bike. Stop enroute on Adonara (where we did not stop due to fights between communities). Night @Elmany Homestay (275k for AC room with bathroom, fan room with shared bathroom also available). Whole afternoon at Pantai Hadakewa, fantastic place (good snorkeling, great views of Ile Api aka Gn Lewotolo). Road condition : A (did not expect the TransLembata to be that good…).
D9 : Loop around Ile Api (50km, 2hrs), anticlockwise. Stops enroute at Situs Tulang Paus (whale squeletton), pantai Jotona, pantai Wena (we expected to snorkel from there, but wind was very strong that day), situs Watu Nale, Selat Sonia. The western coast is far less interesting. Road conditions : bad (C) on the eastern side (up to Riangbeda), good (B/A) afterwards. Night @Elmany Homestay.
D10 : Lewoleba – Lamalera via the western and south coast (70km, 2h30). Good road (B) for roughly the first 55km (up to Tapobali), then eroded track for the last 15km (in some parts steep and dangerous) up to Lamalera (D/C). Notes : 1/ Kuma resort denied us the entry for some drink ; 2/Pantai Waijarang « complex » is abandonned but closed with fences ; you can still sneak in ; 3/ some reports advise to skip Bukit Cinta (foreigner entry fee) for Bukit Doa Watomiten (stations of the cross) ; well Bukit Cinta has also been abandonned (well spent money…sic) but remains opened with structures falling (quickly) appart. Night @Lamalera Inn (200k per head including meals ; very basic fan room + attached mandi). Planned 2 nights, spent only one, as it’s the only tenant I had difficulties with (only interested in money, initially stated crazy prices, starts loud music at 6am … and drinking moke at 8am…)
D11 : Trip to Wulandoni for the Barter Market (Saturday only). Bad road (C) along the coast. Had to report at the Kantor upon arrival, which quite surprisingly asked 100k per person (foreigner) to go inside the (outside) market. Other « local » tourists (a group from Jakarta) were not asked to pay. Well, since a market is a public space and not a zoo, we refused payment and enjoyed the activity from the kopi stall next to it. Returned then to Lamalera for the catches of the day, then to Lewoleba via the mountain road (45km, 2 hours). First 10km to Puor is in very bad condition and uphill (D/C). The remaining is on a newly constructed road (A). Note : Air Panas Sabutobo is abandonned and falling apart (again…) but there are still some water pipes along the river that you can enjoy (depending how lucky you are, just with the forest sounds as companion). Night @Elmany Homestay
D12 : Chill day alond the northern coast (Batu Payung, Pantai Hadakewa with lot of snorkeling, drove till Wailolong and backtracked to Pantai Lewolein for more snorkeling (nice canyons there !) and another fantastic sunset over Ile Api (see GMaps pictures)). Night @Elmany Homestay
D13 : Monday weekly market at Pada, southwest of Lewoleba. Renowned but honnestly dont plan any itinerary specifically for it, just an ordinary Kampung weekly market. Returned to Larantuka and Flores with the 12pm local boat (the same boat that leaves from Larantuka at 8am). Same prices as the first leg. Night @ Dewy Onong Homestay
D14 : Larantuka – Waiterang along the northern coast (100km, 3h) via Pantai Kawaliwu, Tewuk Lewokluok (trail is easy to find, very nice snorkelling in a lagoon), Pantai Lato (to my opinion the most beautiful beach on Flores and you’ll be the only visitor, as opposed to Pantai Koka) and Pantai Hia, until rejoining the TransFlores near Nebe. Grade C on the costal eroded road / track. 3 nights @Lena Guesthouse (booked ahead as it fills up quickly, but we prefered its neighbour Sunset Beach Guesthouse)
D15 : Snorkeling trip organised by Lena Guesthouse (200k per head excluding NP fees and lunch)). The drop-off near Pulau Babi is a very nice spot.
D16 : scooter day trip around the Egon Range (too lazy to hike it…), through nice Sikka villages (route : Watublapi, Umauta, Bola, pantai Doreng, Nakatoli, foot of Gn Egon, Air panas Blidit). The track from Natakoli to the foot of Gn Egon is very steep, damaged and wet (with moss) ; I would recommend not to attempt that in case of bad weather.
D17 : Waiterang – Moni (130km, 3h30, transflores grade A/B) via Pantai Koka (refused to pay the mafia entry fee…) and Jopu (some rumah Adat Lio). Stopped at Museum Bikon Blewut, south of Maumere. Very nice artefacts (especially wooden statues from Papuan, great ikat collection) although very disorganized and sadly non-visited (hence masterpieces fall into oblivion). 2 Nights @Liahz Lodge (150k for fan room, basic bathroom… but right next to Air Panas Liasembe (free, no closing time) !!!).
D18 : Sunrise from Kelimutu with a nice weather (stayed until 8.30am). I don’t know if the sunrise is really worth it (lot of people ascending and watching the sunrise – a lot but nothing compared to e.g. Gn Bromo), nearly everyone going down around 7am, then there is virtually nobody. Trip (20km one way, good road B) to Kampung Adat Nggela (Lio). Although the village is habited and mostly out of the beaten path, I have mixed fillings due to the fact that most ladies (some are pushy) try to sell you (bad) pieces of ikat.
D19 : Moni – Ende via Detusoko paddy fields, Kampung Adat Saga (Lio) and Puncak Ndona ; 75km 2h30. We really liked Saga (nice setting on the mountain, friendly villagers, no selling, mix between traditional and more modern houses in that lively village). Sunset from Bukit Raja, on the peninsula with a 360 view on Gn Iya, Gn Meja Kota Ende and the mountains behind. Note : at the end of the road (search for Gunung Meja Tourist Info Center), there is a (sand) track leading to the path. 1/ only intend the track if you have off road driving experience ; 2/ dont trust the walking time stated by Maps.me. Took us 45mins on a steady pace to reach the summit. Night @Hoja Homestay, 300k for a comfortable AC room with bathroom.
D20 : Ende – Bajawa, via Air Panas Mengeruda ; grade A, 120km, 3 hours. Note : don’t plan to short in Mengeruda (Soa), very easy to spend a half day there, especially if playing with local kids. Stay @Cinnamon GH, 250k for double with fan and hot shower (cheaper options with shared hot shower availlable).
D21 : First day in Bajawa : Watu Nari Wowo (Avatar Hill, sic…), Kampung Adat Ngada Tololela & Gurusina (very very friendly people, complementary views of Gn Inerie & Wolo Deru). Sunset from Puncak Manulalu (well… Heaven’s door Bar & Restaurant)
D22 : Second day in Bajawa : Kampung Adat Ngio (hardly visited, best view on Gn Inerie), Air Panas Malanage, Kampung Adat Bena (the most visited Ngada village (after Bela ?) in the area, we went there at the end of the afternoon to avoid tours, early morning would be fine too), and Gunung Wolobobo for a terrific sunset
D23 : returned to Gunung Wolobobo for sunrise with Gn Ebulobo in the distance (search for a track on the eastern slope, near the communication antenna). You can circuit the rim to the usual viewpoint (westside, sunset spot), the path is easy to find. Then took again the road to Aimere, visiting Kampung Adat Belaraghi enroute (the setting is maybe less rewarding than all the previous villages). 56km ; 1h30. The road to Belaraghi is fine, except the final part.
D24 : Aimere – Ruteng (105km, 3h30). Nice detour by the paddy fields of Wodo (southwest of Golo Loni) of Sunset from Golo Curu (nice encounters with locals). Night @Tange GH, 130k for room with outside (private) bathroom, no breakfast.
D25 : Surroundings of Ruteng (paddy fields north and east of ruteng ; Maps.me has funny tracks starting from Kenda), and the rather pleasant city itself (pasar, churches, lapangan). We finally skipped Liang Bua.
D26 : Ruteng - Labuan Bajo (130km, 3h30). No visits of the waterfalls close to the TransFlores (entry fee (with bule prices) + mandatory guide etc…). Sunset from Bukit Hercadi with very few locals (Bukit Sylvia & Bukit Amelia, just south, were packed). 2 nights @Wellamas Homestay, away from the harbour and its advantages/disadvantages. 230k for comfortable AC room with hot shower.
D27 : New road to Golo Mori Convention Center (another big money well spent…), with nice views on the strait separating Flores from Pulau Rinca. Some empty beaches (e.g. Pantai Pasir Pajang ; we were there on a weekday perhaps frequented by people from LBajo only). 30km (40 mins) one way, perhaps the fastest road of Flores…
D28 : Morning on the peninsula north of Labuan Bajo before taking a flight to Jakarta in the afternoon. On Google maps, the asphalt road only goes to Teras Langit ; it now (august 2026) continues to Puncak Basok and is still in progress towards the eastern part of the peninsula. On the way back, two other nice Bukit where you can enjoy nice views on the bay (and the resorts…) : Bukit Lontar & Bukit Beta. Note : we only found one public (and nice and quiet) beach in the area ; tagged as Sunset Point Beach on Gmaps. All the rest was closed by fences ; they are privately owned (although the Indonesian consitution grants the coastline as public space).
We're a family of five: one dad, one mom, and three kids aged 10, 15, and 18.
Before diving into each stop in more detail, here are a few general thoughts:
We wanted to sample a bit of everything Japan has to offer in terms of landscapes, accommodation, and transport. We were after walks, temples, restaurants, shopping, and some downtime—but no "all-inclusive experiences" or museums for this first visit.
Three medium-sized (60x42x25) canvas suitcases, plus a duffel bag and a few small backpacks. 23 kg in the hold on the way out, 60 kg on the way back. 36 kg of shopping, without even trying. I think this is the maximum suitcase size if you don’t want to stress on the Shinkansen: they fit easily in the overhead racks.
Round-trip with Cathay Pacific, layover in Hong Kong: no need to collect luggage in Hong Kong—we checked it in at departure and picked it up in Tokyo, and the same on the way back (checked in Osaka, picked up at our final destination). This let us explore Hong Kong without worrying about our bags. Food and entertainment were pretty good—meals included a little Häagen-Dazs on each flight, and the entertainment had way more Asian cinema than you’d find on a Western airline, which was a nice way to see how much weight Western culture carries in Asia.
The original plan was to fly directly from Ishigaki to Hong Kong, but due to Typhoon Dolphin, we had to cancel the Ishigaki leg. Cathay didn’t bat an eye about swapping the Ishigaki-HK flight for an Osaka-HK one, even though it was twice as long.
We were a bit too attached to the idea of ending the trip with some beach time and replaced Ishigaki with Shirahama. It was a mistake—we should’ve visited Hiroshima or spent a little more time in Tokyo instead.
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
Hello and welcome aboard this new travel journal!
We’re heading off to Ireland together—a country I’ve wanted to explore for a very long time.
The moment has finally arrived.
We’ll be traveling as a family—my wife, my husband, and our 7-year-old daughter.
Here’s our itinerary:
24/07: Flight from Marseille to Dublin, overnight in Dublin
25/07: Dublin, overnight in Dublin
26/07: Dublin, overnight in Dublin
27/07: Pick up rental car, drive to Dingle, overnight near Tralee on the peninsula
28/07: Visit the Ring of Kerry
29/07: Adare, Bunratty Castle, Galway, overnight in Outheragh, near Galway
30/07: Cliffs of Moher, overnight in Outheragh
31/07: Connemara, overnight in Outheragh
01/08: Drive to Sligo via Westport and Downpatrick Head, overnight in Sligo
02/08: Slieve League, Silver Strand Beach, Glencolmcille, overnight in Sligo
03/08: Drive to Derry via Glenveagh National Park, overnight in Derry
04/08: Giant’s Causeway, Dunluce Castle, Portrush, Derry, overnight in Derry
05/08: Drive to Belfast, visit Belfast, overnight in Lisburn (Belfast suburbs)
06/08: Game of Thrones filming locations: Dark Hedges, Carrick-a-Rede, Ballintoy, etc., overnight in Lisburn
07/08: Drive to the Wicklow Mountains, visit Wicklow Mountains National Park, overnight in Blessington
08/08: Drive back to Dublin and return to Marseille.
Cost breakdown:
Flights:
Outbound flights with KLM via Amsterdam for 3: 175 € + 40,000 Flying Blue miles (so essentially a free ticket)
Return flight with Aer Lingus for 3: 489 €
Rental car:
10 days booked with Enterprise via Carigami: 443 € including zero-excess insurance.
Accommodation:
Dublin: 3 nights at Maldron Hotel New Cross: 394 €
Tralee: 2 nights in a caravan (Ocean Trail Oasis): 292 €
Outheragh: 3 nights Airbnb, family room with private bathroom: 430 €
Sligo: 2 nights at Clayton Hotel: 456 €
Derry: 2 nights at Belfray Inn: 255 €
Lisburn: 2 nights at Temple Golf Club: 232 €
Blessington: 1 night at Baltyboys Lodges B&B: 158 €
That brings our total to 3,325 € for three.
On the ground, visits, fuel, and food cost around 2,500 €.
So this was quite an expensive trip.
A few price examples:
1 liter of unleaded fuel: 1.89 €
3-day pass in Dublin: 18 €
1 scoop of ice cream: 5 to 6.5 €
Castle visit: 15 € per person
A coffee: 3-4 €
A glass of wine at a restaurant: 8-10 €
A half-pint of Guinness: 7-12 €
Now, here’s the day-by-day account of our adventure in Ireland:
Our decision is our decision. And it’s firm and final. Next winter, our plane will spread its great wings toward the island of Ceylon! "Wait a minute... Ceylon... Ceylon... that name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it on the globe Grandma gave me for Christmas! Ceylon... Oh right, I’ve got it: Ceylon is the name of my tea!" Exactly. But the name on your pretty tea box is also the one used until 1972 for this island nation, a speck on the Indian Ocean at the southern tip of the Indian subcontinent: Sri Lanka!
For this new adventure, I’m exceptionally leaving my Flo behind, cowardly replaced by a double dose of testosterone. To write the book of this journey with me, I’m bringing along my brother, who’s used to this kind of thing, and... a guest star: My model of resilience. My dad! All aboard! Or rather, all aboard our tuk-tuk! Yes, you read that right: A real tuk-tuk, a little colorful rolling box that putters along at two miles an hour. The idea? Well, Sri Lanka and its winding roads overlooking the vastness of lush nature are tailor-made for this kind of vehicle. And since it’s one of only two countries in the world that allow foreigners to rent and drive these mini speedsters, we’ll be crisscrossing the island in our two-square-meter rolling box. Plus, adopting this mode of transport is a surefire way to connect directly with the locals, who’ll surely be curious to see a foreigner driving their iconic vehicle. Not to mention the... let’s say... spicy anecdotes it might generate. I mean, heading into a subtropical zone with my jet-black dad and his unpredictable digestive flora while deliberately choosing the tuk-tuk as our *only* means of transport? That’s the winning combo for an unforgettable adventure! "More seriously, Dad, Sullivan, I’m already loving the idea of living this adventure together, the three of us—brothers and father..."
So, does the intro to this new adventure get your salivary glands going? Yes? Too bad. Because unfortunately, the program handed out by the lady at the entrance has been slightly... let’s say *crumpled*. Some might even say "scrunched up and nearly tossed in the trash." First, six days ago, as the countdown echoed in us like a call to adventure, Cyclone Ditwah grabbed Sri Lanka, played with it like a rag doll, and left it battered on the ground. The toll is devastating: over a thousand dead, thousands of homes wiped out by relentless rains, roads and railways swallowed by massive mudslides. A country wounded once again, after the civil war, the 2004 tsunami, and the post-Covid economic crisis.
But as if this weather disaster wasn’t enough to shake our unbreakable adventurer spirit, fate decided to mess with us further by cutting our trio down to two. The victim? My brother, violently turned away because of a simple date on his passport that didn’t match the border officials’ expectations. Return to sender!
So now it’s just the two of us allowed to board the Qatar Airways Airbus A380 for this trip. If he were here, Denis Brognart would say, "And in the end, only one remains!" Except I know you’ll be with us, following our adventures! Right?
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 rental options kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything suddenly fell into place—I told myself, it’s time!
The preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not the south?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or go with the flow?
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 about this destination (the guide has been updated since).
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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!
(Steak for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
You’ll find here a post with some practical information.
And here, the version of the travel journal without comments.
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As a supplement, the route track.
Not necessarily ultra-accurate since Google has serious gaps for this destination...
Hello everyone, I’m happy to welcome you to this new travel journal.
We’re heading to Costa Rica together—a Central American destination that dreams are made of for many French travelers and attracts crowds from France.
It was the country’s wild nature and safety that convinced us to go, since we’re traveling with our 7-year-old little one.
We didn’t have much vacation time in February 2026 (only 12 days), so we optimized as much as possible.
Here’s the itinerary:
Wednesday, February 11: Flight from Marseille to San Jose via Paris and Atlanta
Thursday, February 12: Pick up the car, drive to Poas Volcano, visit La Paz Waterfall Gardens
Friday, February 13: Poas Volcano and drive to Manuel Antonio
Saturday, February 14: Manuel Antonio National Park
Sunday, February 15: Nauyaca Waterfall and Playa Linda
Monday, February 16: Drive to Monte Verde and Santa Elena Reserve
Tuesday, February 17: El Tigre Waterfall Reserve and Treetopia Park
Wednesday, February 18: Monte Verde Reserve with a guide and drive to La Fortuna
Thursday, February 19: Sloth guided tour, Observatory Lodge Park
Friday, February 20: Arenal Volcano National Park, Termalistas del Arenal hot springs, and night tour
Saturday, February 21: Return to San Jose, flight to Paris via Atlanta
Sunday, February 22: Arrival in Paris and flight to Marseille.
That gives us a solid 9 days in the country.
Budget breakdown:
Costa Rica is an expensive country, but no more so than France. However, almost all hikes and waterfalls are paid entry, which can really add up.
For meals, sodas (6–10 €) are cheaper than restaurants (10–20 € per dish).
Flights:
We chose Delta Airlines for the price: Marseille to San Jose was 740 € per person (modifiable, with checked baggage and seat selection included).
Other direct flights from Europe were priced between 1200 € and 1600 € with more restrictive conditions.
That’s 2220 € for the family.
Accommodations:
Alajuela, first night: 139 € (1 night) at Rodeo Estancia Boutique Hotel, with personalized airport pickup, transfer to the hotel, and a briefing from Vert Costa Rica agency the next day.
Poas: 66 € (1 night) at Cabañas Tierra Fértil (entire apartment).
Manuel Antonio: 394 € (3 nights) at La Palapa Ecolodge (hotel in the jungle).
Monte Verde: Chalet Aloha Monteverde Cloud Forest (2 bedrooms): 125 € (2 nights).
La Fortuna: Arenal Dream Garden (1 bedroom): 217 € (3 nights).
Total: 941 €.
Car rental:
I went through Vert Costa Rica agency (Vincent is a French expat who set up the agency in Costa Rica and makes great YouTube videos with useful tips).
I rented a 4x4 that was delivered to the hotel the day after arrival and returned at the airport before the flight. The total was 772 €, including full insurance (zero deductible), a child seat, and a phone with a Costa Rican SIM and WhatsApp. The rental company was Poas Rent a Car. The vehicle was well-maintained—no complaints.
Gas: 100 € for the whole trip (3 fill-ups).
Activities:
To get discounts, I bought the pass offered by Vincent, which paid for itself after just one activity. It cost me 30 € (promo since I rented the car through him).
Prices are for 3 people. I’ve added stars to rate them:
La Paz Waterfall Gardens ****: 112 €
Poas Volcano National Park *: 33 €
Manuel Antonio National Park ****: 35 €
Nauyaca Waterfall ***: 25 €
Santa Elena Reserve **: 45 €
El Tigre Waterfall Reserve ****: 141 € (with meal)
Treetopia (ziplining, suspension bridges) **: 250 €
Guided tour of Monte Verde Reserve ***: 113 €
Sloth guided tour (with breakfast) ***: 115 €
Arenal Observatory Lodge (with meal) ****: 102 €
Arenal Volcano National Park *: 34 €
Termalistas del Arenal ****: 20 €
Night tour ***: 116 €
Total: 1171 €.
Meals: 600 €
My favorite restaurants:
Poas: Food court Mercaditas in Fraijanes
Manuel Antonio (near La Palapa): La Langosta and also El Patio
Near Nauyaca Waterfall: Ricar2 el Avión
Between Manuel Antonio and Monte Verde: Soda D’Calle
Santa Elena: HG’s Food
Guadalupe (between Monte Verde and La Fortuna): Soda Río Piedras
Arenal Observatory Lodge restaurant
Arenal Oasis Ecolodge restaurant
Other expenses: 300 € (groceries for breakfast, drinks, ice cream, souvenirs, etc.)
Total overall: 6065 € (about 2020 € per person).
Now, here’s the day-by-day account of this beautiful trip.
In early March, full of carefree joy and happy to return to Morocco, we landed in Marrakech under the sun.
We spent just one night in Marrakech at the Hôtel Toulousain, as we did on our previous trip. And we booked our 3 nights for the end of our trip, the second half of March... Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! But we’re not there yet...
Our first goal is to reach Magdaz, a mountain village in the Tessaout Valley, sometimes called the lost valley.
We discovered the village of Magdaz on this forum, and we were charmed by the photos and comments from travelers who came before us.
The road is easy—it’s dry, and the tarmac takes us right to the village gates at over 2,000 meters above sea level.
We arrive in the afternoon and are left speechless by the beauty of the place. A jewel of Berber architecture! Perfectly restored granaries and kasbahs!
A young man from the village guides us on the visit and opens the doors to the terraces overlooking the village.
Several magnificent collective granaries have been beautifully restored. The warm colors of the stone capture the light wonderfully. It’s stunning!
We won’t find anything decent to stay overnight there, so we head back down a bit and settle in at the Assounfou guesthouse. Lovely welcome. The place is in excellent condition and very clean. It’s spacious, but we’re the only ones there.
First day full of promise!
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.
Hi everyone,
We (two adults, 74 and 70 years old) had already shared a travel journal about our first trip to the Philippines in February/March 2019 on this forum (https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=9377175;search_string=carnet%20philippines). We had visited Manila, the Banaue rice terraces, Sagada, the Visayas (Bohol, Siquijor, Dumaguette), and on our way back to Luzon, the Taal volcano before returning to France. Delighted by this trip, organized by the French-speaking agency Alizé, we decided to further explore this beautiful country, this time focusing on Coron and Palawan.
Before writing this journal, I should mention that these are personal comments and don’t reflect any differing opinions. Without any literary or photographic talent, I’ll stick to the facts and share a few details about the visits, hotels, and restaurants.
Preparations
We decided to return in mid-January 2025 and consulted three French-speaking tour operators to create a trip based on our wishes (places to visit, type of accommodation) and budget. Comparing three operators helped us weigh their advice and make our choices. Only our first operator respected the budget, a second came close, and the third proposed a slightly more upscale trip. In the end, we chose the agency from our first trip. Our discussions helped refine our itinerary, and when we reviewed it point by point, the document provided was perfect, full of great tips. The most debated point was a 3-day, 2-night cruise between Coron and Palawan. We were tempted but worried about being the only "older" travelers among younger people and feared two uncomfortable nights. Reassured by our tour operator, we finally opted for this "exploration." We’ll come back to that later.
Once the choice was made and dates set, we booked our international flights with Cathay Pacific for 750 € per person, which offers the best schedules (short layovers) at an acceptable price for flights arriving in Cebu. Our trip started on February 25 and returned to Paris on March 15.
International flights
The round-trip flights went smoothly. Cathay does the job well, without frills. The service quality seems to have slightly declined compared to our previous trips with them. Hong Kong Airport is huge but very practical.
Note that not all airlines serve Cebu.
Recommendation: Fill out your Philippine entry form within 72 hours before your flight. This can prevent issues with the airline (possible boarding refusal) and saves a lot of time upon arrival (see the Philippine embassy website).
Domestic flights
For our two domestic flights—Cebu to Coron and Puerto Princesa to Cebu—our tour operator chose Philippine Airlines and their propeller planes. No problems there.
Day 1:
We landed around 12 PM (local time) after 17 hours of travel. A driver was waiting for us at the airport exit and took us to our hotel, intentionally chosen near the airport (Mandaue, about 10 minutes away) to help us recover and get a good night’s sleep before our early morning domestic flight the next day. The Mayoo Hotel, reasonably priced, was perfect for this. Large, beautiful room in a new building—clean, comfortable, with a spa. We could relax by the pool on the 16th floor and enjoy the city view. The breakfast was exceptional, and the staff was smiling, attentive, and helpful. An ATM in the lobby allowed for withdrawals. However, the hotel is in a neighborhood with nothing to see or do. We dined at the Korean restaurant K-GOGI across from the hotel—a real attraction and a great discovery.
Day 2:
After a restful night, we were driven to the airport around 6:30 AM for an 8:10 AM flight from Cebu to Busuanga (Coron).
The flight was uneventful. Upon arrival, we paid 200 pesos per person for the Coron tourist fee before a 40-minute transfer to our hotel: Natura Resort, located outside the city in a secluded spot. The setting is stunning—a beautifully maintained tropical garden, a pleasant pool, and the option to book massages. The cottages are tropical-style with thatched roofs, simple and unpretentious.
The owner, who speaks French, told us that given the heat and our ages, climbing the 721 steps to the top of Mount Tapyas wasn’t necessary. She gave us a few rooftop recommendations to watch the sunset over Coron Bay. After a good swim in the pool and a meal at the resort’s pleasant restaurant, we hired a tricycle to go into town. We were told it costs 150 pesos one way, and depending on the return time, it could exceed 250 pesos. But our driver gave us his WhatsApp number and charged the same price regardless of the time. He just earned two days’ worth of customers.
He dropped us off at the port where bangkas (local boats) gather for day trips. It was the end of the day, so there was a rush. A few shops around the port sold waterproof bags for marine excursions at reasonable prices (compared to back home), after some bargaining. We wandered the town’s alleys looking for the Top Hotel, whose rooftop is famous. Indeed, it’s perfectly located to admire the sunset and enjoy a refreshing drink.
We dined nearby at a small Chinese restaurant, then just had to call our driver to head back.
The night wasn’t entirely restful—our hotel had a soundtrack of all the countryside animals, and it seemed they had no set bedtime! :
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!
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...
Hi everyone,
Way back when, before the internet and all that, there were Larousse encyclopedias, and in the proper names section, I came across a photo of Samarkand. Just the name made me dream. I kept it in the back of my mind for later, and last winter, I revisited the idea. Within a few weeks, I managed to plan our 16-day getaway. Oh, I didn’t do it all by myself—I used a travel agency to handle the flights, accommodations, transportation, and local guide. It was a custom trip for three people, tailored to what we wanted to do, what we wanted to see, within the time we’d chosen, at our own pace.
The main goal of the trip was to visit the three iconic cities of architectural art in Uzbekistan (just for the sheer beauty of it) and, very secondarily, to take a break with a short hike.
We left in early May, flying from Toulouse to Istanbul, then to Tashkent:
- One day in Tashkent, 2 nights,
- By car (6 hours) to the Fergana region: Margilan (silk and pottery), 2 nights, with a guide,
- Back to Tashkent, then a flight to Khiva, 2 nights, 1 day with a guide, 1 day on our own,
- Train to Bukhara (6 hours, sleeper cars), 3 nights, 1 day with a guide, 1 day on our own,
- Train to Samarkand, 2 nights, 1 day with a guide,
- By car to Tersak, 1 night with a local family, short hike, same guide,
- By car to Shakhrisabz (Tamerlane’s hometown), then back to Samarkand,
- Samarkand, 2 more nights,
- Train back to Tashkent, final night, and return home.
What I took away from this Silk Road trip:
- A completely safe country in May—don’t go later because of the heat,
- The warm welcome and easy connection with Uzbeks, a multicultural people,
- A constant puzzle with currency exchange (how much is that in euros? ) 1 € = 14,000 sums,
- Logistics handled by a local agency—top-notch,
- Delicious meals at a very reasonable price,
- Total awe in Khiva and Samarkand (palaces, mausoleums, mosques, madrasas),
- The length of the trip, which let us wander and take our time.
A few photos, but not too many—I don’t want to spoil the joy of discovery!
La qualité de la route s’améliore, je dévale la montagnes à près de 60 km/h, et, lentement, discrètement, sans m’en rendre compte, je gagne la plaine.
Je retrouve Alex, Clem, Johanna et Anaïs pour le dîner qui se prolonge en jeu de cartes.
Je discute une demi-heure avec quelques chauffeurs de tuktuks qui ont travaillé au Qatar, au Koweït, aux Emirats Arabes Unis … Le vendeur de tickets de loto vient troubler nos bavardages. L’un des chauffeurs en achète dix et me confie la responsabilité de les choisir à sa place. Il prend mon numéro de téléphone et m’assure qu’en cas de gain important, il me fait visiter le Sri Lanka gratuitement pendant un mois avec ma famille.
Vers 12h00, Patrick m’accueille enthousiaste. J’ai 991 km au compteur.
The karst site:
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
(In the heart of Albergheria, on a street every visitor walks down—lovely message from an unidentified artist)
Laundry and trucks washed in the same stream.
We’re greeted dozens of times with “Hello Mister”—a daily routine in the Moluccas. Every time we stop, we pose for photos to be saved on locals’ smartphones. They don’t see tourists often.
Several magnificent collective granaries have been beautifully restored. The warm colors of the stone capture the light wonderfully. It’s stunning!
A little sneak peek?
