Cela fait un peu moins de 2 mois que mon second séjour au Japon a touché à sa fin. Pour cette fois je suis reparti exactement à la même période (car elle fait partie d'une des meilleures et mes congés à l'université me permettent d'éviter la période estivale), et j'avais prévu un itinéraire beaucoup plus intense et original que l'an dernier. Autre nouveauté au programme : j'ai souhaité retourner au Japon en solo, ce qui m'a permis de voir et de découvrir le pays en étant beaucoup plus imprégné et attentif à ce qu'il se passait autour de moi. Mais aller à l'autre bout du monde avec pour seuls compagnons son sac à dos et sa valise a aussi engendré pas mal de péripéties plus ou moins inoubliables. Bref voici mon carnet de voyage de mon second voyage au pays du soleil levant.
Je suis décidément un énorme chanceux. L'an dernier la météo était parfaite quasiment tous les jours, et cette année ce fut (presque) exactement la même situation, avec toujours de grosses chaleurs et un ciel dégagé en permanence. En détail :
- 13 jours de ciel bleu
- 3 jours de pluie continue
- 2 jours de bruine intermittente
- 2 jours de ciel couvert
Je décolle depuis l'aéroport de Barcelone à 17h25. Ca fait très bizarre de partir seul à l'autre bout du monde. A vrai dire je ne me suis pas inquiété une seule seconde, mais j'avais déjà dans l'avion le sentiment que ce deuxième voyage au Japon allait me réserver des surprises.
Les deux vols ont évidemment été très longs, et c'est à bout de force que j'arrive à l'aéroport de Narita le lendemain à 18h30 heure japonaise.
Comparé à l'an dernier l'excitation est moins présente, j'essaie au contraire de garder mon calme et ma sagesse afin de trouver comment aller à Narita (la ville cette fois) car j'ai prévu d'y passer la nuit.
Après pas mal d'allers-retours dans l'aéroport, je trouve mon train qui me conduit à la gare de Narita en 5 minutes. La nuit est tombée, j'ai beaucoup de mal à trouver le manga kissa dans lequel je souhaite passer la nuit et le stress s'accumule. La fatigue a créé un certain manque d'assurance qui m'a empêché d'essayer de baragouiner quelques mots de japonais à des passants afin de leur demander de l'aide.
Finalement après près de 30 minutes de recherche je trouve le manga kissa. J'aurais préféré dormir dans un hôtel mais ils sont tous hors de prix à Narita.
Au bout de plusieurs échanges oraux confus et gênants avec la très gentille dame de l'accueil, je parviens à réserver un box avec futon pour un peu moins de 1500 yens, avec obligation de quitter le manga kissa à 4h du matin auquel cas il me faudra payer davantage. Je me presse d'aller dans mon box, ridiculement petit (je ne rentre même pas complètement lorsque je suis allongé alors que je mesure 1m75...) et j'essaie de dormir... jusqu'à ce qu'un séisme de magnitude 5 déboule subitement autour des 21h30 et fait sonner tous les téléphones portables du manga kissa. L'atmosphère est peu rassurante, mais au bout de 20 secondes la terre s'arrête de trembler et tout repart subitement à la normale. C'est à ce moment-là que j'ai ressenti que j'étais vraiment au Japon et que j'étais déjà bien gâté. Et inutile de vous dire que je n'ai quasiment pas dormi de la nuit...
Les centaines de mangas mis à disposition gratuitement dans le manga kissa de Narita.
Météo : de 13 à 20 °C, ciel couvert le matin et pluie continue le reste de la journée.
Après 2h de sommeil je quitte le manga kissa à 4h du matin pétantes. Le temps d'aller déposer ma valise dans un coin locker de la gare de Narita que le soleil s'est déjà levé. Malgré cette nuit chaotique je suis en forme pour visiter la ville, relativement inconnue des touristes.
On commence officiellement ce voyage par des visites simples mais sympathiques des quartiers et maisons alentours. Je suis absolument tout seul (en même temps à 4h30 du matin cela se comprend), et c'est juste jouissif. Je ressens une forte impression de dépaysement.
30 minutes plus tard je me dirige vers la rue Omotesando, jalonnée de plusieurs boutiques et restaurants, et me retrouve devant un complexe bouddhique où se trouve notamment le Naritasan, le temple principal de la ville. C'est ici que je vois mes premières têtes japonaises de la journée, surtout des retraités et des salary-men qui se rendent au complexe pour prier et discuter.
Je suis tombé sous le charme de cette ville. Derrière son nom symbolisant l'aéroport de prédilection des touristes venant au Japon, se cache en réalité une ville plutôt compacte, très verte, fleurie, calme, avec de beaux bâtiments et une culture japonaise bien implantée.
Le ciel est de plus en plus menaçant, il est prévu de la pluie forte et continue durant toute la journée et ce dès la fin de la matinée. Après une visite de quelques heures de la ville, je retourne à la gare qui avait l'air d'une gare de seconde zone à mon arrivée à 4h30 du matin, où se déplacent dorénavant des dizaines et des dizaines de personnes en direction des voies ou des arrêts de bus. La ville change, elle devient alors un carrefour et un hub imposant de par ses flux humains importants. Je prends le premier train (Keisei Line) qui part direction Nippori, puis direction la gare d'Iidabashi à Tokyo où je m'installe dans le studio que j'ai loué sur Airbnb, ou plus précisément la chambre que j'ai louée dans un studio déjà habité.
Ce qui devait arriver arriva : une pluie monstre qui ne s'arrêtera que dans la nuit. Bloqué dans le studio à cause de la pluie et surtout de la fatigue, je finis par m'endormir en plein après-midi, chose que je ne voulais absolument pas faire pour ne pas davantage encore perturber mon corps.
En début de soirée je fais la connaissance de mon hôte, un jeune salary-man qui parle plutôt bien anglais et avec qui je discute longuement.
Lever à 7h30 pour ma première journée à Tokyo. Mon hôte est parti au travail depuis longtemps déjà, et je me hâte de rejoindre la station d'Iidabashi.
J'arrive à la double-gare Korakuen / Kasuga que je connais bien depuis l'an dernier le temps de petit-déjeuner, puis je prends la Mita Line pour passer la matinée à Sugamo, un quartier plein de petites boutiques et restaurants. Mais la particularité de ce quartier est qu'il est surtout peuplé de personnes âgées, qui ont commencé à s'y installer peu après la Seconde Guerre Mondiale. Depuis le quartier est surnommé le "Harajuku des grands-mères".
Je me suis contenté de parcourir la rue commerçante Jizo-dori, longue d'à peu près un kilomètre et d'où se dégagent des senteurs diverses et variées venant des innombrables échoppes.
La rue est calme et silencieuse. C'est un bonheur de s'y balader, juste pour ressentir cette ambiance particulière.
Pour la petite anecdote, je suis entré dans ce qu'il semblait être une boulangerie-viennoiserie pour prendre ce qui semblait être une viennoiserie, alors que c'était une sorte de beignet fourré au poulpe. Goût très spécial et peu appétissant à 10h du matin.
A midi je retourne à Ueno pour déjeuner. C'est un quartier que j'avais moyennement apprécié l'an dernier, mais j'ai quand même souhaité y retourner car on avait l'air de bien y manger. Et ça tombe bien, j'avais les crocs.
Je trouve un restaurant tout près de l'une des je-ne-sais-pas-combien sorties de la gare, où il y a foule.
Le restaurant est spécialisé dans les katsudon, il ne sert pratiquement que ça. Et ils sont à tomber par terre.
Petite pause clope et digestive sur le toit de la gare d'Ueno.
L'après-midi se passera à la Tokyo Sky Tree. Je ne compte pas y monter (moneeeeey), mais je voulais la voir de près et visiter les bâtiments tout autour, par curiosité.
Un dédale de souvenirs
L'arrivée au pied de la tour est assez spectaculaire. Déjà parce qu'il y a des magasins de souvenirs d'absolument partout (je vous laisse deviner la proportion de chinois et le bruit que cela influe...), mais surtout parce qu'on y fête les quatre ans de son inauguration. Et au Japon, quand on fête un tel événement, on le montre.
Pour fêter les quatre ans de l'inauguration de la Sky Tree, quoi de mieux que de coller des milliers de pétales de fleurs à même le sol afin de former de jolis dessins ? Un travail de titan.
Le soir je retrouve une amie japonaise rencontrée l'an dernier à Tokyo. Nous allons à la gare de Shinjuku manger un okonomiyaki, dans un restaurant là encore blindé.
Je complète aussi vite que je peux avec le peu de temps que j'ai eu en ce mois d'août. Je pars en vacances farniente mercredi pendant quelques jours, ça me laissera du temps (et de l'inspiration) pour rédiger un maximum de journées du voyage, puis de les publier en rentrant. En attendant je vais essayer de finir la partie Tokyo avant de partir.
J3 : une île sur une île qui est sur une autre île
Météo : de 15 à 24°C, ciel voilé
Pour cette troisième journée je vais réparer mon erreur de l'an dernier et aller sur l'île (ou la presqu'île) d'Odaiba. Je voulais à tout prix m'y rendre en 2015 mais le sort en avait finalement décidé autrement.
Odaiba est une presqu'île artificielle construite dans la baie de Tokyo. Pour y accéder il faut emprunter la ligne Yurikamome, un train électrique sans chauffeur qui part de la gare de Shimbashi.
Je retrouve à cette même gare un ami d'enfance qui fait ses études à Yokohama depuis 1 an, et qui n'y était jamais allé non plus.
Odaiba est un paradis pour touristes en soif de spectacle et de modernité. Non pas parce que l'île est belle avec une nature préservée toussa toussa, mais parce qu'à l'image de Macao ou de Las Vegas, elle renvoie une image de paradis artificiel et de matérialisme. C'est ainsi que l'on y trouvera des spots aussi originaux que surprenants, dont certains sortent du lot et sont réellement bluffants.
Ciel artificiel et boutiques en tous genres.
On se croirait presque en Italie. Et encore vous n'avez pas vu la pièce qui se trouve derrière la fontaine...
Cette île est vraiment étrange. Il n'y a pas de cohérence en termes d'architecture (vous allez me dire c'est un peu le cas partout au Japon, mais là c'est encore plus flagrant). Lorsqu'on se balade dehors on en viendrait presque à se croire dans un remake du film Inception tellement le paysage n'a aucun sens. Mais c'est bien ça qui fait le charme d'Odaiba, l'impression de voir une île sortie de nulle part et que l'on a complété en rajoutant des immeubles et des routes piétonnes par ci par là, sans se soucier d'une quelconque cohérence générale. La grande majorité de l'île est quasi-vide de touristes, qui se regroupent en masse uniquement autour des spots touristiques.
Nous mangeons dans l'immeuble gigantesque derrière le Gundam. A l'intérieur des dizaines de restaurants, et je teste un repas coréen tellement épicé que j'en pleure.
L'après-midi nous continuons la visite de l'île, qui attise fortement ma curiosité. Très vite nous arrivons devant la célèbre Statue de la Liberté, finalement plutôt petite, mais dont le principal attrait est la vue que nous offre le spot sur les gratte-ciels de la capitale.
Encore un peu plus loin se trouve une plage. L'eau est froide mais il n'y a aucune vague alors qu'il y a pourtant un peu de vent. De toute façon je ne vous conseille pas de vous y baigner car nous avons vu des méduses mortes flotter à la surface de l'eau.
Nous longeons la plage en marchant sur le sable jusqu'à arriver pile devant le Rainbow Bridge, le fameux pont de Tokyo qui relie Odaiba au continent. Après quelques minutes de contemplation nous décidons d'y retourner au crépuscule, et de continuer notre visite de l'île en allant cette fois dans les bâtiments.
L'île du divertissement
C'est en entrant dans les bâtiments que je comprends pourquoi Odaiba est surnommée "L'île du divertissement". Tout, absolument tout incite à la consommation. On peut y faire n'importe quoi dans un rayon d'influence restreint et adapté aux touristes à pied : parc d'attractions, musée de cire, musée Lego, cuisine... et j'en passe. On y trouve aussi des robots qui parlent, à tête de robot ou à tête humaine, comme celui qui accueille les touristes et auquel ou peut lui poser des questions à travers un écran holographique. Flippant mais efficace.
A 19h on retourne sur le Rainbow Bridge pour contempler Tokyo le soleil couchant et les milliers de lumières qui s'allument dans la ville. On assiste à ce moment-là à un feu d'artifice sur Odaiba dont nous ne savons pas grand chose, mais qu'importe c'est beau.
Une fois la nuit bien tombée nous repartons d'Odaiba en traversant entièrement le pont par le chemin piéton construit pour cela. Nous marchons très près des nombreux camions et voitures qui circulent à vive allure.
On termine notre soirée à Shibuya en dégustant des sushis et en se promenant dans ce quartier que j'affectionne particulièrement.
je suis revenue depuis 2 semaines de mon voyage et c'est encore plus agréable de lire les TR surtout que, dans toute logique, ca me renvoit à tout ce que j'ai pu voir et ce que j'ai pu louper et me donne encore plus envie de repartir.
je vais suivre ton tr avec attention, perso j'ai adoré Odaiba et j'aurais aimé y passer plus de temps et que le feux d'artifice soit maintenu mais je profite de tes photos et de ton récit, c'est déjà ça 🙂
Je n'en ai pas parlé avant, mais le jet-lag a été très présent. Je regrette de plus en plus d'avoir choisi la solution facile pour ma première nuit, cela me coûte cher, notamment ce jour-là où je me suis levé presque à midi. Impossible de dormir pendant la nuit. Du coup l'excursion prévue à Kamakura ne pourra pas se faire. La déception est grande, surtout que c'était ma dernière journée à Tokyo et je voulais vraiment aller à Kamakura. Du coup je suis obligé de me rabattre sur une solution de rechange. Et comme je n'avais pas spécialement envie de rester en ville, c'est pas facile de trouver.
Finalement en me renseignant sur Internet je décide d'aller à Tsukishima, un quartier tout près de Tsukiji où se tient le célèbre marché aux poissons de Tokyo. Il est déjà 14h30 quand j'arrive à la station. Le temps est humide et frais, c'est très agréable.
Le quartier a effectivement un peu de charme, même si je n'ai pas vraiment été emballé. On trouve des très hauts immeubles de logement tantôt vétustes, tantôt neufs, et des petites maisons serrées les unes des autres. Cela fait un paradoxe amusant.
Je ne reste pas très longtemps, et mon manque de motivation me pousse à retourner à l'appart pour m'occuper dans le calme. Je n'avais vraiment pas envie de marcher aujourd'hui. Je suis quand même allé à Harajuku pour manger une crêpe avant de retourner m'isoler à l'appart. Je n'aime pas trop ce quartier à cause de la foule permanente et de son manque de personnalité.
Le soir se passera heureusement mieux. Je propose à mon hôte de l'accompagner au restaurant qu'il veut avant de lui faire mes adieux. Il m'amène manger des tonkatsu dans un restaurant en sous-sol et blindé de monde. Après une queue à l'extérieur qui aura duré une heure, nous nous installons dans le restaurant. Il n'y a que des Japonais et les menus sont uniquement en langue japonaise et écrits en calligraphie. J'ai vraiment halluciné et eu l'impression d'être un vrai privilégié, avec mon hôte qui me traduisait le menu et me conseillait des plats et des boissons alcoolisées typiques. Tout était absolument délicieux et pour la première fois depuis que je suis au Japon (voyage de 2015 compris), je me suis senti comme un vrai Japonais.
En attendant que le restaurant ne se libère...
Je ne me couche pas trop tard, réveil prévu à 7h le lendemain pour ne pas rater le bus qui m'amènera dans les Alpes japonaises, la partie du voyage que j'attendais avec le plus d'excitation.
Sympa, ton compte rendu...
Tsukishima est surtout réputé pour ses monjayaki, le "Okonomiyaki de Tokyo"
Tu es passé dans la rue dans laquelle se trouvent tous les restaurants (photo N°4).
L'expérience culinaire aurait été intéressante... surtout quand on les fait soi-même.
Sinon, ce quartier sert de "garage de jour" aux "yakabune", ces bateaux restaurant qui voguent tous les soirs dans la baie, entre le Raimbow bridge et Odaiba.
Mais l'endroit le plus prisé pour faire une photo contrastée, c'est ici:
Vivement la suite...
Mes 25 ans de séjours au japon! http://www.soleilrouge.org/
Okinawa et Miyakojima: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6477376;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Sakura: Balade de printemps: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6988760;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Je n'étais pas au courant que ce quartier jouait un rôle assez important. Et la dernière photo est magnifique, j'adore ce genre de paysage urbain. J'y retournerai en étant plus curieux quand j'en aurai l'occasion.
J'ai habité ce quartier une semaine.
Je l'avais choisi pour pouvoir être à Tsukiji à pieds avant 4h00, mais il aurait fallu passer la nuit devant le marché pour pouvoir entrer à la criée. Au bout de 2 matins, j'ai laissé tomber.
J'ai quand même pris le temps de visiter chaque ruelle, de photographier tous les endroits sympas... et de manger dans plusieurs resto!
Mais ce n'est pas le plus intéressant de Tokyo. Quand j'y reviens, c'est uniquement pour manger!
Mes 25 ans de séjours au japon! http://www.soleilrouge.org/
Okinawa et Miyakojima: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6477376;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Sakura: Balade de printemps: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6988760;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Cette dernière nuit à Tokyo a été insupportable. Il m'a été impossible de m'endormir de toute la nuit. C'est énervé que je me lève de mon lit à 7h30, et après une rapide toilette, file en direction de la gare de Shinjuku.
J'avais oublié de préciser quelque chose pour la journée 4. Pour éviter de me trimballer ma valise dans les Alpes japonaises, je l'avais déposée en fin d'après-midi au 7 eleven à côté de l'appartement en utilisant le service Takkyubin. Pour 1500 yens j'ai ainsi pu demander à ce qu'elle soit livrée 6 jours après à ma guest house d'Osaka. Ce service est vraiment très pratique, même si il est difficile de remplir la paperasse pour l'envoi car tout est écrit en japonais.
Revenons à notre journée en question. J'arrive à la gare de Shinjuku, et je me dirige vers l'immense gare routière à quelques dizaines de mètres d'une des sorties. C'est avec la compagnie Highway-buses que je voyagerai jusqu'à Matsumoto, mon premier arrêt dans les Alpes japonaises. Le bus passe par l'autoroute très très TRES embouteillée au moment de quitter Tokyo, mais au bout de quelques dizaines de kilomètres le trajet devient fluide. Le bus est climatisé, les sièges confortables, les toilettes en arrière du bus sont grands.
A mi-chemin on sent qu'on commence à entrer en zone un peu plus rurale avec les paysages qui sont de moins en moins urbanisés et de plus en plus verts et montagneux.
On arrive à Matsumoto avec 15 minutes de retard, et au vu des embouteillages du début je trouve ce retard largement acceptable. A la sortie du bus on sent tout de suite que l'on est en altitude et dans une zone beaucoup moins influencée par l'océan : la chaleur est intense, et l'air est sec. Je commence à manger à côté de la gare, puis je dépose mon sac à dos dans un coin locker dans une sorte d'hypermarché en face de la gare pour 100 yens. Le prix des consignes dans cette ville est beaucoup moins élevé que partout ailleurs au Japon, j'ai trouvé ça étonnant.
Par quoi commencer la visite de la ville ? Par son célèbre château évidemment ! Mais bien que son accès ne soit pas trop difficile, j'ai réussi à me tromper de chemin et à me retrouver dans un parc assez sympathique. Beaucoup d'enfants avec leurs parents s'y baladent, mais on retrouve aussi des étudiants se regroupant sur des bancs ou par terre pour bosser.
Un aperçu du parc あがたの森公園.
Après une petite heure passée ici je me dirige vers le château. J'en profite pour visiter un peu la ville que j'aime beaucoup. Après Tokyo c'est très agréable de se retrouver dans une ville à taille humaine et calme. J'ai tout de suite senti les gens beaucoup moins stressés et plus "friendly" qu'à Tokyo.
Juste avant le château.
J'arrive devant le château, et mon dieu c'est tellement beau !
So Google Images !
Il y a peu de touristes pour un samedi après-midi. Je prends bien mon temps et contemple le château sous tous ses angles. Tout est tellement harmonieux, c'est fou. Je le préfère définitivement à celui d'Himeji que j'avais aussi adoré l'an dernier.
Une des portes du château.
Après une glace au matcha dégustée en me baladant dans un petit quartier résidentiel, j'entre dans ma guest-house de la soirée juste à côté du château. La propriétaire est adorable. J'avais apparemment réservé trop tard et par conséquent il n'y avaient plus de chambre et elle a dû m'aménager un futon dans l'entrée. Je dormirai à côté d'une étudiante japonaise avec qui je boirai du thé et à qui je donnerai un petit cours de français.
Le soir Matsumoto s'endort. Là encore ambiance radicalement différente de la capitale. Ca m'a rappellé un peu ma ville Perpignan : c'est très calme, il n'y a presque personne même dans les rues principales, tout ferme, seuls quelques groupes d'amis ou des couples se baladent pour aller au karaoké ou dans un bar. De mon côté je vais aller manger au Mos Burger de la gare.
Je finis la soirée devant le château de Matsumoto, fortement éclairé la nuit afin de mieux l'admirer. Je profite de ce moment de solitude et de bonheur avant d'aller me coucher avec le dernier album des Twenty One Pilots dans mes oreilles.
Je suis fan de Matsumoto (comme Bene ^^), j'aime son côté provincial et reposant. Quant au château, ce qui est notable, c'est son accessibilité : le soir ou la nuit, on peut toujours aller le contempler...
Je suis fan de Matsumoto (comme Bene ^^), j'aime son côté provincial et reposant. Quant au château, ce qui est notable, c'est son accessibilité : le soir ou la nuit, on peut toujours aller le contempler...
Pareil. J'ai adoré à tel point que j'ai regretté d'y être parti si vite alors que j'avais eu le temps de bien visiter le centre.
Je me lève à 6h pour ne pas rater le premier train de la journée qui traverse la vallée de Kiso. Cette journée sera placée sous le signe de l'Histoire, où j'ai prévu de visiter trois des principales stations du Nakasendo. Le Nakasendo est une route commerciale reliant Kyoto à Tokyo, créée durant l'époque Edo lors du changement de la capitale du pays. Cette route a permis les transferts humains et matériels entre les deux villes, et des dizaines de stations ont été aménagées sur la route afin de fournir les vivres ou de permettre aux samouraïs de s'y reposer.
Je prends le train direction Narai, le premier arrêt de la journée. C'est une station très connue des Japonais, et au contraire totalement méconnue des étrangers. J'arrive sur place un peu avant 7h30, et j'ai 1h30 pour visiter la station.
Une claque monstrueuse
Qu'elle ne fut pas ma joie immense au moment de sortir de la minuscule gare de Narai. Le cadre est visuellement sublime. J'étais absolument tout seul, l'état dans lequel je me trouvais était plutôt complexe, une sorte de mélange entre étonnement, joie, sentiment de chance, solitude et bien-être. L'endroit a été restauré mais n'a pas été modifié avec le temps, j'ai eu l'impression d'avoir voyagé trois siècles en arrière (après avoir passé les voitures du parking de la gare bien sûr).
Un kilomètre en ligne droite. Une promenade de quelques dizaines de minutes chargée en émotions. En arrivant au bout de la rue principale, un vieux Japonais, visiblement étonné de voir quelqu'un aussi tôt (et un occidental qui plus est) commence à discuter et à me poser des questions sur mon voyage et sur les raisons qui m'ont poussé à retourner au Japon pour la seconde fois.
Il est temps pour moi de revenir à la gare. Avant d'y aller je m'arrête devant le beau cimetière de Narai. Il est construit verticalement, sur plusieurs étages.
Petit moment de stress en arrivant à la gare (ça faisait longtemps). Elle n'ouvre théoriquement qu'à 8h30, et le train qui m'intéresse y part à 8h41. Evidemment il n'y a pas de distributeur de billets ici. Bref moment de panique, mais j'avais oublié la ponctualité des Japonais qui a fait que le personnel a pu arriver et ouvrir la billetterie à l'heure.
Il faudra 1h15 de train pour arriver à Nagiso, une petite ville pas très belle, mais qui n'est pas l'objet de ma visite. En effet je vais y prendre un bus qui va m'amener à Tsumago, une autre station importante et touristique du Nakasendo. Enfin non finalement je décide au dernier moment de ne pas y aller en bus mais à pied.
Bienvenue dans le Japon de l'envers
Moi qui pensais que cette promenade ne paierait pas de mine... Cette route pédestre d'environ 3 km est magnifique. Elle nous fait passer par des petits villages, des rizières, des forêts... Tout sent bon le calme et la nature. On y croise quelques Japonais qui travaillent leurs terres, d'autres qui profitent de la tranquillité et de la météo en se baladant.
Après 1h de marche j'arrive à Tsumago. Il est 11h30. La station est différente de Narai. Les bâtiments sont pour la majorité d'entre eux noirs, et le cadre est moins bucolique. De plus le site est bondé de touristes, je me sens un peu moins "ailleurs" et suis un peu déçu. Toutefois les échoppes sont quasiment toutes ouvertes et le site est vivant.
Avant de manger je me dirige à l'office de tourisme qui propose, uniquement les week-ends, le transport de bagages entre Tsumago et Magome et inversement, pour 500 yens par bagage. J'y dépose mon sac à dos qui arrivera à Magome une heure plus tard, mais attention il faudra aller le récupérer avant 17h, heure de fermeture de l'office.
J'ai faim, et il y a peu de restaurants ici. Je trouve à l'entrée de Tsumago un petit restaurant qui propose la spécialité du coin, les gohei-mochi, une grosse boule de riz sucrée façon bâtonnet de glace nappée d'une sauce à la noix et au sésame. C'est vraiment délicieux et original.
Avec en accompagnement un bol de soba !
Après manger j'attaque directement la partie la plus connue du Nakasendo, le sentier pédestre de 8 km reliant Tsumago et Magome. La promenade, sans être exceptionnelle, est très agréable et nous amène dans des forêts, devant des cascades, et encore dans des petits villages. On y croise peu de gens, dont la majorité sont des Japonais.
Et oui il y a des ours dans les Alpes japonaises. Tout le monde ou presque avait sa petite cloche, j'avais l'air un peu pauvre sans la mienne, alors que l'on pouvait en louer à Tsumago. Toutefois je ne pense pas qu'elle soit indispensable en cette période de l'année. Les ours ont déjà trop chaud et s'installent beaucoup plus en altitude.
La surprise principale de cette ballade sera vers la moitié du trajet. Ici se trouve une belle et ancienne maison de thé où l'on peut s'y reposer, profiter d'un bon thé vert gratuitement, et surtout regarder des musiciens faire de la musique avec des instruments japonais. L'ambiance est excellente et chaleureuse, c'est un très bon moyen de se reposer agréablement, car il faut le dire, la promenade est assez crevante par endroits.
Il m'aura fallu 2h30 de marche avant de distinguer au loin des montagnes rappelant fortement les Pyrénées. L'apparition de ces montagnes symbolise la fin de la randonnée et l'arrivée à Magome, la troisième et dernière station prévue aujourd'hui.
Il est 15h et il y a évidemment beaucoup de touristes. Etant donné que je passe la nuit ici, j'ai préféré me diriger tout de suite vers mon ryokan et attendre qu'il y ait moins de monde pour visiter Magome. Le ryokan en question est le seul que j'ai trouvé à un prix un minimum correct.
A partir de 17h les touristes commencent à déserter le coin, et il faut attendre seulement quelques dizaines de minutes pour se retrouver presque seul. Je profite de ce calme hors-norme pour visiter Magome dans les meilleures conditions possibles. La station est construite en pente assez raide, et aller d'un bout à l'autre à pied est déjà une belle épreuve.
Je rencontre un jeune couple de Français dans le ryokan avec qui je sympathise et je me ballade une fois la nuit tombée. D'ailleurs la nuit change totalement notre façon de penser et de voir le paysage, avec ce côté mystique indescriptible qui prend le dessus et nous fait davantage sentir que nous sommes ailleurs.
Pour la première fois depuis que je suis au Japon j'ai passé une nuit correcte ! En effet il ne faisait pas trop chaud, et les rideaux censés obstruer les rayons matinaux ont été plus épais que d'habitude. Je me lève vers 7h30 en forme pour attaquer une journée un peu particulière.
Pour la veille j'avais longtemps hésité entre la vallée de Kiso et Kamikochi. La seconde solution était la plus pratique d'un point de vue distance car Kamikochi se situe entre Matsumoto et Takayama, et cela m'évitait donc de faire l'énorme détour que je vais finalement devoir faire en ayant choisi la première solution. Je me retrouve maintenant au Sud des Alpes japonaises, non loin de Nagoya, et il va falloir remonter jusqu'à Takayama, ma prochaine étape.
J'ai vu que le seul moyen était de prendre 3 trains à partir de Nakatsugawa qui sillonnent les montagnes. Cette solution est extrêmement coûteuse en temps, mais en se renseignant davantage et en allant sur des sites non traduits, on peut voir qu'il y a des lignes de bus qui font grosso modo le même trajet mais pour une durée beaucoup plus acceptable.
La journée commence par une petite promenade dans Magome de bon matin. La station est encore très calme, on croise quelques petits vieux qui passent le balai devant leurs échoppes, l'ambiance est encore une fois très mystique et campagnarde.
C'est à 9h30 que les touristes commencent à déferler sur les lieux, et ça tombe bien car c'est à ce moment-là que je vais prendre le bus spécial qui m'amène à Nakatsugawa en 30 minutes, une ville de 80 000 habitants qui fait office de carrefour ferroviaire et routier entre Tsumago/Magome, Matsumoto et Nagoya.
J'ai à peu près 2 heures pour visiter cette ville que je trouve assez classique mais pas désagréable.
C'est maintenant que va se jouer le reste de ma journée. Je dois trouver où se garera dans la gare routière mon prochain bus qui m'approchera un peu plus de Takayama. Petit moment de stress car tout est écrit en japonais. Finalement ma longue préparation pré-voyage m'a grandement aidé, il m'a simplement suffit de reconnaître sur les panneaux d'indication les kanji de la ville du terminus. Ni une ni deux, je monte dans le bus après d'avoir demandé confirmation de la destination auprès du chauffeur (et en japonais s'il vous plaît !).
Me voilà parti pour 1h30 de route jusqu'à Kashimo, une bourgade où je prendrai ma correspondance. Le bus est relativement rempli, mais personne ne parle. Je suis le seul occidental.
Sur la route, beaucoup d'herbe, de maisons traditionnelles, de rizières, et de montagnes. Dépaysement garanti.
Tuto bus : commencez par entrer par l'arrière du bus, munissez-vous d'un ticket avec un numéro inscrit dessus, puis une fois arrivé observez ce tableau et déduisez-en le montant que vous devez au chauffeur. Appoint obligatoire.
Arrivé à Kashimo je prends un autre bus direction Gero, une ville célèbre pour ses onsen et qui sera mon autre point de correspondance.
Une fois arrivé à Gero, retour dans un train pour (enfin) être à Takayama. Au total le trajet depuis Nakatsugawa aura duré un peu plus de 2h30 sans compter les correspondances. Finalement très bon plan que d'avoir trouvé ces trajets en bus. Je vais essayer de vous retrouver les pdf des horaires pour ceux que ça intéresse.
Je rencontre à la gare de Takayama une française qui est au Japon depuis 3 mois, et c'est avec elle que je commence à visiter la ville.
Il nous reste 1h avant que le soleil ne se couche, et nous décidons d'aller à l'Higashiyama Walking Course, un sentier en forêt à l'Est de la ville constitué de temples, de sanctuaires, d'un cimetière, et d'animaux sauvages.
Dans ce temple, une classe de petits qui font du judo (ou du karaté je ne sais pas).
Vue sue Takayama. Atmosphère mystique en perspective.
La nuit est tombée. On essaie désespérément de trouver un resto pour ce soir, mais il semblerait que la ville ne soit pas très vivante le soir. Dans les quelques restos sympas que nous avons trouvé nous nous sommes fait refourguer illico presto. Finalement on a pu en dénicher un en face de la gare. La nourriture était bonne sans être excellente (beaucoup trop de choix dans le menu), mais c'est toujours mieux que de manger un bento au konbini.
On termine notre soirée en sirotant une bonne Sapporo dans un onsen pour les pieds.
Demain visite en profondeur de la ville de Takayama.
J8 : non, tous les Japonais ne sont pas forcément accueillants
Météo : de 14 à 29°C, ciel dégagé puis couvert dans la soirée
C'est parti pour une matinée complète d'improvisation dans la ville de Takayama.
Je commence par me balader dans la vieille ville et ses alentours, déjà prise d'assaut par les touristes.
Une fois sorti de la rue du marché, je m'égare rapidement des sentiers battus car je trouve un torii en bois et une forêt derrière qui éveillent ma curiosité. Je me retrouve alors dans un tout autre environnement.
Vue magnifique sur Takayama et les montagnes. On trouve ici de vieilles maisons isolées du reste de la ville, habitées par des retraités qui y travaillent intensément leurs terres.
L'instant kawaii.
J'ai un peu plus d'une heure pour déjeuner avant de prendre le bus. Je ne me gêne pas, puisque je suis à Takayama je vais me faire plaisir et tester le boeuf d'Hida, en concurrence avec celui de Kobé. La concurrence ne se fait pas tellement en termes de qualité (celui de Kobé étant je pense largement au-dessus), mais plutôt au niveau du rapport qualité-prix bénéfique au boeuf d'Hida. Même si il est moins cher, il reste quand même à un prix assez élevé, et je vais devoir le déguster en ramen pour ne pas trop raquer. C'est la viande la plus tendre que je n'ai jamais mangée. A peine rentre t-elle dans la bouche qu'elle est déjà en train de fondre.
Je quitte maintenant Takayama en prenant un bus de la compagnie Nohi Bus, direction Shirakawago. Le trajet dure une heure et n'est pas très beau, il est en fait très urbanisé. Et lorsqu'on arrive à voir de la nature on se retrouve vite sous un tunnel. Bref on ferme les rideaux et on écoute de la musique.
J'arrive à Shirakawago, le village aux maisons en toit de chaume. Il n'y a quasiment que des Chinois ce qui fait que je ne m'entends même plus penser, mais passons ce n'est pas le plus grave. Le plus grave c'est que les Japonais qui vivent dans ce village sont sûrement les pires que j'ai pu croiser : ils ne regardent personne, ne répondent à personne... J'ai eu l'impression d'avoir pénétré dans leur espace vital et d'être un intrus.
Un exemple concret et qui m'a vraiment frappé est au moment où j'ai voulu acheter une glace. Je voyais le vendeur au fond du comptoir en train de faire la vaisselle, et je l'ai donc tout naturellement appelé afin qu'il prenne ma commande. Malgré mes appels répétés il ne s'est pas une seule fois tourné, et il a fallu que j'actionne la sonnette sur le comptoir pour qu'il daigne venir. Et au moment de payer même malaise, le vendeur refusant catégoriquement que je lui donne l'argent directement dans ses mains.
Les locaux sont aussi très agréables. C'est simple, je me suis pris des vents en permanence alors que je leur disais simplement bonjour.
Et malheureusement ce n'est pas le village en lui-même qui va rattraper le coche, car je l'ai trouvé vraiment très décevant. Les maisons se ressemblent toutes (c'est bien beau les toits de chaume mais bon au bout d'un moment on se lasse), c'est surfait, tout petit, et surtout il y a des bâtiments industriels juste à côté qui fait qu'on a tout sauf l'impression d'être à la campagne dans un lieu bucolique.
Je m'étais laissé 2h30 pour visiter le village, et c'est seulement au bout d'une heure que j'en ai eu marre et que je suis carrément allé attendre mon bus à la gare routière.
Le seul beau panorama de la zone.
Ca me fait mal de dire ça mais j'étais content d'entrer dans le bus. Direction maintenant Kanazawa où je vais y passer deux nuits. Cette fois le trajet sera très sympathique, on retrouvera les rizières et les paysages typiques du Japon de l'envers.
Pourtant quand j'arrive à Kanazawa j'ai l'impression d'être revenu dans une grande ville. Le fossé était saisissant entre tout ce que j'ai vu depuis la fenêtre du bus et l'entrée dans la ville. Pour autant, sans même quitter le secteur de la gare, je tombe tout de suite sous le charme de Kanazawa, allez comprendre.
Je sens donc que cette ville va vraiment me plaire, et cela se confirmera encore sur la route pour aller à la guest-house, où je m'y sens extrêmement bien et presque comme chez moi.
Le ciel se couvre de plus en plus mais il ne pleut pas. Il fait déjà nuit et je n'ai pas la motivation de gambader. Je vais dîner dans un Sukiya, puis je m'installe dehors, sur la table devant l'entrée de la guest-house et je laisse passer le temps. Il fait 30°C à 22 heures, l'humidité commence à s'installer et ne me dit rien qui vaille pour les jours suivants...
Je te trouve bien sévère avec Shirakawago...
Le village est victime de son succès et ses habitants en ont certainement raz la casquette de voir passer des centaines de touristes irrespectueux chaque jour ce qui explique peut-être en partie leur attitude.
Personnellement, je n'avais pas eu cette impression il y a quelques années.
Je pense que tu as mis les photos les plus moches que tu as faites pour illustrer ton propos. 😉
Les toitures sont en chaume... oui. C'est d'ailleurs la spécificité des maisons "gassho zukuri" de la région. Donc elle ont toutes la même forme.
Mais de là à se lasser, il y a quand même un monde.
On n'a peut-être pas vu la même chose... et certainement pas fait les mêmes photos.
Quand à la réaction du commerçant qui n'a pas voulu prendre ton argent de main à main, cela fait tout simplement partie des anciennes traditions japonaises. Il a simplement appliqué la règle qui impose que celui qui achète pose son argent sur le petit plateau posé à côté de la caisse.
Le fait d'insister a peut-être même été pris comme un affront... Heureusement pour toi que nous ne sommes plus à l'époque des samouraï... 🏴☠️
Mes 25 ans de séjours au japon! http://www.soleilrouge.org/
Okinawa et Miyakojima: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6477376;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Sakura: Balade de printemps: https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=6988760;idl3=9084144203&idl=3731943&idl2=8709057
Je n'ai pas mis mes photos les plus moches, j'ai mis celles les plus intéressantes (comme pour le reste du carnet).
Pour le commerçant je n'ai pas insisté au moment de payer mais au moment de commander, car il refusait de venir.
Je suis le premier à vouloir respecter les traditions mais quand je voyais la tronche qu'il tirait, j'avais juste envie de payer ma glace et de me barrer illico presto. Il m'est arrivé plusieurs fois au Japon de payer de main en main par réflexe occidental sans que cela ne dérange, ou au pire que le commerçant me demande de poser l'argent sur le plateau mais avec sourire et gentillesse, ce qui n'était pas le cas ici.
Les locaux sont aussi très agréables. C'est simple, je me suis pris des vents en permanence alors que je leur disais simplement bonjour.
Meme si c'est commun de se saluer dans les petits villages (meme au sein des quartiers residentiels des villes) je ne pense pas qu'il faille leur en vouloir pour ca. Il n'ont pas choisi que leur village devienne une attraction touristique et ne sont pas voues a sympathiser avec les touristes, ils ont un travail, une vie.
Je me mets a leur place : devoir repondre a tous les inconnus qui me croisent sous pretexte que j'habite un lieu qui est devenu touristique, au bout d'un moment...
J'ai visite le village sous la neige et je n'en ai pas un souvenir comme etant quelque chose d'extraordinairement beau. L'interieur des maisons etait bien agreable par contre, avec une douce chaleur.
Ca se comprend mais je n'ai pas eu l'impression qu'ils se fassent trop embêter par les touristes, la majorité préférant rester entre eux et n'avoir aucune communication avec les locaux. Je cherche justement à communiquer avec les Japonais pour ne pas rester dans un tourisme conventionnel, même si c'est bref.
Le problème du tourisme de masse dans ce village vaut surtout pour les Chinois, il devait y avoir facile 2/3 des personnes présentes qui étaient des touristes chinois. En restreignant ce flux humain fou on arriverait à rendre le site beaucoup plus agréable. Mais bon business is business.
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I'm starting my first travel journal since VF reopened!
This will mostly be to share my impressions and some photos, with a few days' delay, but I'm starting this journal while I'm still here.
First, I'd like to thank those who helped me prepare for this trip.
I was able to organize this stay in one of the most expensive countries in the world thanks to the home-exchange principle. Not necessarily a direct swap, but through a points system, which is more practical for choosing where you want to go without it having to be a reciprocal exchange.
For this trip, there will already be two different accommodations. We'll see how it goes after that.
The first place is near Yverdon-les-Bains, close to Lake Neuchâtel.
So, we're going to explore this area!
We arrived under capricious weather that won’t leave us for the next few days!
We had dinner at a pizzeria recommended by *Le Routard* in Yverdon, then took a little nighttime stroll through the town center before heading inland to settle into our accommodation.
We discovered a very large, quiet house—and especially the cat that stayed behind! Funny for a couple of mice! He’ll be sleeping with us 😹
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
This 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...
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After the summer of 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland for the summer of 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which, from what we’ve read, is stunning but very crowded (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last wild space—I think it’s incredibly inspiring!!
The downside of this choice is that there are no resupply options in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with Sarek in mind.
But hey, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to abandon the Sarek crossing.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our overstuffed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - So, Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
Coming up:
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉
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
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.