Voici un carnet de voyage qui retrace nos 28 jours en Birmanie. Nous avons choisi de visiter ce pays lors de notre tour du monde qui a démarré le 1er Mars 2017.
Qui sommes nous ? Daïnah et Clément, un couple mixte français qui voyage pendant 1 an et demi sur 4 continents
Quand ? Nous sommes partis en Birmanie en Juillet 2017
Comment ? Nous avons passé la frontière Mae Sot / Myawaddy car nous venions de Thaïlande et nous avons franchi la même frontière pour sortir du pays.
Notre itinéraire:
Hpa-An (4 jours - 2 jours à l'aller et 2 jours au retour)
Yangon (4 jours)
Bagan (5 jours)
Mandalay (5 jours)
Hsipaw (3 jours)
Kalaw (2 jours)
Lac Inle (4 jours) et retour à Hpa-An pour repasser la frontière
Nous sommes arrivés à Hpa-An après avoir passé la frontière entre la Thaïlande et la Birmanie, il a beaucoup plu à Hpa-An à notre arrivée mais nous avons quand même pu visiter la ville et ses alentours.
Hpa-An, premiers pas en Birmanie
Hpa-an, notre toute première ville en Birmanie ! On préfère ne pas compter Myawaddy comme la première ville car la ville frontalière n’a rien d’accueillant et nous y sommes à peine passés. Nous voilà donc à Hpa-An pour 2 jours environ. Le temps n’est pas du tout favorable, il pleut non-stop et on décide de sortir tout l’attirail pour affronter la pluie et louer un scooter (la mousson on adore!).
Avant de vous parler des visites on va vous dire quelques mots sur l’hôtel où nous étions. Nous avons pris une chambre au Galaxy Motel, hôtel tenu par une famille birmane. Ils sont accueillants et adorables, la gérante parle un peu français et a toujours le sourire. Notre séjour fut juste parfait dans cet hôtel où nous avons mangé le meilleur petit déjeuner du séjour. Avant de les quitter, ils nous ont mêmes offerts des petits cadeaux ! Si un jour vous passez à Hpa-An, vous l’avez compris, c’est l’adresse à ne pas louper.
Concernant la ville en elle-même, on va essayer de vous détailler au mieux ce que nous avons ressenti en arrivant. La ville de Hpa-an est pauvre, c’est un fait. On décide de découvrir la ville à pied avant de nous aventurer aux alentours en scooter. Les hommes portent tous le longyi, un tissu qu’ils scindent autour de leur taille.
Nous avons immédiatement été saisi par l‘élégance et la beauté des birmanes. Vêtues de longs sarongs souvent assortis avec leur haut, elles traversent la ville avec leurs parapluies à la main en nous fixant. Ok, c’est peut être pas tous les jours qu’elles croisent une métisse et un blanc arpenter les rues de Hpa-an. On essaye de leur sourire mais nous sommes tellement curieux et ébahis de ce changement de décor qu’on doit avoir l’air de débarqués et de ne pas du tout être à notre place. Parce que oui, notre arrivée en Birmanie a été assez déconcertante car le Myanmar ne ressemble à aucun autre pays du sud de l’Asie.
On passe par un petit centre commercial qui nous permet d’avoir une idée des prix. C’est toujours utile et ça nous permet d’éviter les arnaques dans les plus petites supérettes. On se dirige ensuite vers le lac de la ville, un endroit sympathique pour se balader et où les birmans viennent entre amis, en famille ou en couple. On continue notre balade au bord de la rivière et on assiste à un match improvisé de volley-ball. On nous regarde du coin de l’oeil, les joueurs donnent le meilleur d’eux-mêmes et la foule est attentive.
Les alentours de Hpa-An
La grotte de Saddan
Malheureusement, la pluie n’a pas cessé et on doit donc s’armer de courage pour sortir. On part sous la flotte avec le scooter en espérant qu’en chemin la pluie ne sera qu’un lointain souvenir. On commence par la visite située la plus loin, la grotte de Saddan. Les paysages que nous traversons sont très jolis, il y a des rizières à perte de vue. Il y a beaucoup d’agriculteurs dans les champs, qui travaillent leur terre. Nous parcourons quelques kilomètres et nous arrivons à destination. Une fois arrivés à la grotte, nous laissons nos chaussures à l’entrée (oh la grosse erreur – nous allons vite le regretter).
Une famille birmane est déjà à l’intérieur de la grotte et elle prie devant l’image de Bouddha. En effet, à l’intérieur de cette grotte il y a un temple et une rangée de Bouddhas sur un des côtés. La grotte est vaste et il faut la traverser entièrement pour arriver ensuite à un endroit où on prend une barque pour revenir à notre point de départ. Rappelez-vous que nous avons laissé nos chaussures à l’entrée. Nous devons traverser toute la grotte à pied, dans le noir presque complet (on a quand même la lampe du téléphone) sachant qu’à certains endroits l’eau est montée.
On est pas super à l’aise, Daïnah est même même très anxieuse à l’idée de ne pas savoir où elle pose son pied dans l’obscurité. On traverse certaines parties de la grotte où les chauves-souris se font fait plaisir et on préfère se dire qu’on a évité toutes les crottes qui jonchaient le sol. Parcourir la grotte prend du temps, on monte, on descend, on traverse des flaques, des escaliers puis enfin on aperçoit la lumière, un fin filet, au loin. On sort de la grotte. Fin du traumatisme. A l’extérieur, notre regard est rapidement attiré par une grande photo d’Aung San Suu Kyi, dire qu’il y a 6 ans à peine, cela aurait été impossible de la voir afficher ici…
La famille birmane que nous avons croisé un peu plus tôt sort à son tour de la grotte. Pour eux, la traversée du retour est gratuite mais pour nous ce n’est pas le cas. On essaye de négocier mais personne ne parle vraiment anglais. On convient d’un prix fixe: 2000 kyats pour 2. La balade est très sympathique même si la pluie continue de tomber. Nous sommes à bord d’un petit bateau avec l’homme de la famille. Le batelier à l’arrière chantonne et mise à part le bruit de la pluie et le batelier, c’est le calme absolu. La traversée se passe bien, on doit juste bien se baisser en passant dans une grotte car l’eau est bien montée.
On arrive ensuite à notre point d’arrivée. Et là, ça se gâte, le prix vient de doubler. Ce n’est plus 2000 kyats pour 2 mais par tête. Clément est furieux et s’énerve. Notre problème c’est que nous n’avons pas de monnaie et que nous sommes obligés de donner un billet de 5000 kyats. On galère d’ailleurs pour avoir nos 1000 kyats en retour. Heureusement, l’homme qui était avec nous dans la barque nous défend et récupère notre billet.
Nous allons récupérer nos chaussures à l’entrée de la grotte et nous récupérons le scooter. La pluie est de plus en plus intense et on s’arrête rapidement au Mont Zwegabin. A une époque, il était possible de grimper jusqu’au sommet pour y dormir. Depuis la mort d’un touriste, il n’est plus possible de le faire. Nous ne tentons pas l’ascension car il est déjà tard et nous n’aurions pas le temps de faire l’aller-retour.
Nous nous arrêtons seulement au pied de la montagne où il y a un jardin. Ici, il y a près de 1000 statues de bouddhas alignées. Nous prenons quelques photos mais la pluie est bien trop forte et nous rebroussons chemin jusqu’à notre hôtel à contre coeur.
Le lendemain il est déjà temps de partir. Nous quittons le Galaxy Motel en leur promettant de revenir d’ici 3 semaines. Nous avons décidé de faire une boucle et de repasser par Myawaddy pour revenir en Thaïlande. Nous embarquons dans un bus pour l’ancienne capitale du pays, Yangon. Ce voyage ne sera pas de tout repos et on en sortira pas indemne.
Et voici la suite de notre voyage en Birmanie, cette fois on vous emmène à Yangon, la capitale destituée.
Yangon nous a profondément marqué. Elle nous a pris par le col et nous a forcé à la regarder droit dans les yeux. Ces yeux, ce sont d’abord ceux des chauffeurs de taxi qui nous attendent à la sortie de notre bus de nuit. Ce sont aussi ceux des birmans que nous croiserons et qui nous dévisageront sans comprendre d’où l’on vient. Ceux sont aussi ceux des indiens, étonnamment nombreux dans l’ancienne capitale birmane.
Cela rappelle des souvenirs à Daïnah. En effet, Yangon ressemble étrangement à la ville de Calcutta. La pauvreté qui te saute aux yeux, les bâtiments coloniaux décrépis et ces regards qui te marquent au fer rouge tant ils sont pénétrants. Mais comme Calcutta, Yangon nous a d’abord repoussé pour ensuite mieux se laisser découvrir. Voilà le récit de notre arrivée dans l’ancienne capitale birmane.
Circle Line et arrivée à Yangon
Encore sonnés, nous sommes impuissants face au tsunami de birmans qui veulent à tout prix nous faire monter dans leur taxi.
« Combien? »
« 5000 kyats par personne »
« C’est le même prix que le bus que nous venons de prendre »
De toute façon, il est hors de question de prendre un taxi. Nous avions déjà convenu de prendre la Circle Line (sorte de RER) qui nous emmènerait tranquillement (très tranquillement même car il faut compter 2h) vers le centre ville de Yangon. Nous marchons vers la gare la plus proche située à quelques kilomètres de la gare routière. Nous avons nos sacs sur le dos et nous marchons au bord de la route, le trottoir est inexistant. La gare routière est animée, il y a des familles qui se mêlent à des badauds qui errent dans le coin. Beaucoup de taxis nous voient de loin et manquent de nous écraser pour nous prendre dans leur véhicule. C’est peine perdu, on a déjà un autre itinéraire tout tracé.
La pluie s’invite à notre escapade. Les chauffeurs voient alors une aubaine et s’arrêtent à chaque fois devant nous, nous bloquant presque la route. On essaye de négocier mais c’est impossible, les prix restent trop chers et personne ne cèdera. D’un côté comme de l’autre d’ailleurs. Nous avançons vers notre destination, il continue de pleuvoir. Daïnah sent qu’elle tombe malade, elle a un mal de tête incroyable et ses jambes flagellent. Cette fin de journée va être un enfer pour elle.
Nous arrivons enfin dans un quartier résidentiel. Un petit coup d’oeil sur Maps.me et nous voilà dans la rue qui nous mène vers la Circle Line. L’aéroport n’est pas loin et on peut voir les avions atterrir juste au dessus de nos têtes. On entend un train au loin. C’est le nôtre mais il est déjà trop tard. Lorsque nous arrivons à la gare, le train est déjà loin et nous devons enjamber les rails pour nous rendre jusqu’au guichet.
« 2 tickets pour Yangon City, s’il vous plait »
« 200 kyats »
Le guichetier nous explique qu’il faut patienter une trentaine de minutes pour le prochain train. Autour de nous, les birmans nous regardent du coin de l’oeil. Ils sont sûrement surpris de voir des touristes par ici. De l’autre côté du quai, des hommes jouent à un sport local. Ils jonglent et se font des passes sur le quai avec une sorte de balle en bois. Le longyi traditionnel s’est habilement transformé en short pour libérer le mouvement de ces acrobates. Nous les regardons amusés.
Au loin, on voit un homme qui fait paître ses chèvres sur la voie ferrée, de l’autre côté des enfants s’amusent sur les rails. Entre tout ça, des hommes, des femmes et des enfants traversent continuellement les voies souvent chargés: courses, fruits, vélos, …Tout se transporte.
Nous regardons ce spectacle qui se déroule devant nous et l’attente s’en trouve fort réduite. On entend finalement le train qui arrive, les lumières oranges indiquent qu’ils faut libérer la voie. Entre temps, le quai s’est noirci de monde. Nous montons dans le train et nous arrivons à trouver deux places et poser nos sacs, un luxe.
C’est parti pour près deux heures de balade. Le train est plein et des marchands ambulants défilent pour écouler leurs stocks de marchandises: fruits, légumes, médicaments, snacks, etc. Il y en a pour tout les goûts. Ces hommes et ces femmes transportent leur marchandise en équilibre sur leur tête. Les marques de Thanaka sur leur visage nous sont encore inconnues mais c’est une marque de dépaysement qui ne trompe pas. Nous sommes bien en Birmanie.
Par la fenêtre, la banlieue puis la ville de Yangon défilent devant nous. Nous croisons beaucoup de bidonvilles construits au bord des rails et qui débordent de déchets. Ce n’est pas rare de voir des enfants jouer avec des sacs plastiques où d’autres objets insolites laissés là par un passant ou par un passager du train. Cette pauvreté extrême nous choque, nous n’avions encore jamais vu un tel niveau de pauvreté depuis que nous sommes en Asie et pourtant nous avions croisé des bidonvilles sur notre route notamment au Cambodge.
Autour de nous, des passagers amusés se retournent et nous sourient. Nous sommes les seuls touristes de la rame et nous sentons que nous sommes l’attraction principale. L’état de Daïnah se s’améliore pas, son mal de tête est toujours là et elle se sent fébrile. Décidément, cette arrivée n’est pas de tout repos.
Les 2h sont passées assez vite nous voilà maintenant au cœur de la ville. Nous avons trouvé un hôtel dans Chinatown. Nous marchons une trentaine de minutes avant de le trouver. Les chambres sont minuscules et la salle de bain est partagée. Daïnah est épuisée donc on ne va pas plus loin et on s’arrête ici. Cette dernière tombe de fatigue et commence à grelotter. Elle a de la fièvre. Il est 20h et on est tous les deux très fatigués. Clément va chercher de quoi manger et on s’endort rapidement, cette journée nous a épuisé.
Clément ira découvrir la ville de Yangon les jours suivants pendant que Daïnah se remettra sur pieds à l’hôtel. Elle a attrapé froid à cause de la clim dans le bus. Quelle ironie quand on sait qu’il fait 30°C à l’extérieur. Au bout de deux jours elle est de nouveau en forme et nous pouvons visiter tranquillement la ville. On la parcourt de long en large et on découvre à quel point cette ville est photogénique. Ces vieux bâtiments et ces ruelles étroites sont un régal à prendre en photo. A Yangon, on remarque également que la vie se fait à l’extérieur, à même la rue. On voit une quantité impressionnante de street food et de petits marchés au détour des ruelles. Même les magasins débordent à l’extérieur pour appâter le chaland. Avant de quitter cette ville hors norme, nous allons voir l’un des temples les plus sacrés du pays, la Pagode Swedagon.
La Pagode Swedagon à Yangon
Nous décidons d’aller voir la pagode Swedagon en fin de journée afin de la voir sous les derniers rayons du soleil puis de la voir s’éclairer à la tombée de la nuit. La pluie s’invite à notre escapade mais nous apprécions néanmoins la visite de ce véritable complexe bouddhiste. La pagode au centre se ferait presque voler la vedette par tous les fidèles qui se pressent dans les différents édifices qui l’entourent. Dès que la nuit tombe, des croyants viennent allumer des bougies et la pagode se pare de son habit doré. C’est un spectacle en soi. Ce jour-là, on finit notre journée dans un restaurant indien, décidément on ne se lassera jamais de la cuisine indienne!
On quittera Yangon 2 jours après notre arrivée. Nous reprendrons la Circle Line pour retourner à la gare routière d’où nous prendrons notre bus pour Bagan. En chemin, on discutera avec un birman dans le train puis avec un indien juste avant la gare routière. L’arrivée à Bagan sera totalement différente, on vous en parle très bientôt.
Nous partons de Yangon pour Bagan en bus de nuit. Nous utilisons une dernière fois la "Circle Line" de Yangon pour nous rendre jusqu’à la gare routière située à 20km de la ville. Dans le train, on papote avec un birman qui a sa fille qui vit en Allemagne. Elle a visité Paris cet été. On lui demande s’il a pu aller la voir mais il nous explique qu’en tant que birman c’est très difficile d’obtenir un visa pour n’importe quel pays. Il nous souhaite un bon voyage et descend du train. En chemin pour la gare, on croise un indien qui discute un peu avec nous. Lorsqu’on lui dit qu’on vient de France, il regarde Daïnah d’un air interrogateur:
« Oui mais toi tu viens d’Afrique, non? »
Cette franchise, il n’y avait qu’un indien pour dire ça comme ça 🙂 Daïnah lui explique son métissage et il nous indique un raccourci pour nous rendre jusqu’à la gare. Nous le saluons et continuons notre chemin.
Trajet en bus de Yangon à Bagan
C’est reparti pour une nuit en bus avec une température moyenne de 15°C. Cette fois Daïnah est préparée, elle a sa polaire et un foulard. Le trajet est malgré tout un enfer. On nous réveille tous à 23h alors que nous dormions profondément. On doit ensuite patienter car c’est la pause « dîner ». Nous on a pas faim du tout mais on nous oblige à descendre du bus. Le bus fera d’autres pauses pendant la nuit et finalement on ne pourra pas trop dormir pendant ce voyage de nuit, c’est ça aussi de prendre les bus les moins chers 🙂
On arrive à destination à 4h du matin. On refuse poliment les tuk-tuks mais ils nous suivent un bon moment avant de comprendre qu’on va faire la route à pied. Certains nous disent que la ville est à 7km. « C’est beaucoup trop loin » nous disent-ils. Mais bon, on a le temps et on y va à pied. En revanche, même à 4h du mat, les mecs n’oublient pas de te faire payer l’entrée de la ville, 25,000 kyats par tête (ça fait mal). On s’arrête au Golden Myanmar, un peu cher mais on a une belle chambre sur la terrasse avec salle de bain. On décide de se bouger direct car il fait beau et en temps de mousson on ne crache pas sur du soleil quand il y en a. Même quand on vient de dormir 2h en cumulé dans un bus de nuit frigorifié.
Découverte des temples de Bagan
On loue des vélos et nous partons sur les routes. On démarre par le temple Swezigon Pagoda. On ne s’en est pas rendu compte mais on est samedi et il y a plein de birmans qui se rendent au temple. Ce temple est donc blindé quand on le visite. Les birmans sont en famille ou entre amis. Ils sont venus en masse pour prier. Ils regardent beaucoup Daïnah, la pointent du doigt et certains rigolent. Quand tu es bien fatiguée, ce genre de choses passent mal du coup on ne reste pas longtemps ici même si c’est intéressant de voir comment les birmans occupent leur week-end. On s’enfonce dans le site de Bagan et on trouve un temple où on peut apercevoir le site d’un peu plus haut. Les temples s’étendent à perte de vue…On enfourche de nouveau nos vélos et on visites plusieurs grands temples. Comme pour le premier, il y a beaucoup de birmans qui viennent prier ou simplement profiter des lieux en amoureux. C'est tout simplement magnifique...
Le soir on choisit un temple pour le coucher de soleil. Ce temple permet d’avoir une vue à 360°C sur le site de Bagan et on peut monter assez haut pour avoir une belle vue. Sauf qu’il y a tellement de monde que c’est un supplice d’assister au coucher de soleil dans ces conditions. On se demande même comment l’édifice peut supporter tant de monde. Le coucher de soleil est malgré tout magnifique et on essaye de faire abstraction de ce qui nous entoure pour en profiter. On prend ensuite les vélos pour repartir vers la ville. Il y a énormément de trafic et on est bien contents d’avoir des vélos qui se faufilent partout !
Les deux jours suivants, on se repose et on profite de Nyaung Oo. Bon il n’y a pas grand-chose à y faire mise à part un marché. On trouve notre petit QG, le restaurant Kyaw. Les serveurs sont supers sympas, ils discutent un peu avec nous à chaque fois et on s’est rapidement pris d’affection pour eux. Du coup, on ira tous les jours ! Soit pour boire un verre, soit pour manger. On a goûté pas mal de plats et on a tout trouvé super bon. Vous pouvez y aller les yeux fermés.
Notre dernier jour à Bagan
Le dernier jour, on décide de tester les e-bike. Des scooters électriques avec lesquels vous pouvez parcourir jusqu’à 60km ! On visite dès le matin et cette fois le site est beaucoup plus calme. On est souvent seuls au monde et ce sentiment est très agréable. On doit néanmoins faire un aller-retour express car en descendant d’un temple, j’ai déchiré mon pantalon. Je dois donc aller me changer pour continuer les visites…Nous avions noté quelques temples à visiter notamment pour leur point de vue mais le tremblement de 2016 a fait beaucoup de dégâts et il n’est plus possible de visiter autant de temples qu’avant à Bagan. Cela est bien mentionné à l’entrée des temples.
Cette journée passe super vite et l’histoire aurait pu s’arrêter là. Mais on a sûrement été trop gourmands en kilomètres et notre cher e-bike n’a pas réussi à nous ramener à Nyaung Oo. Nous sommes tombés en panne au beau milieu de la route. Heureusement, la gentillesse légendaire des birmans est venue à notre secours. Deux jeunes se sont arrêtés pour nous aider. Ils nous ont poussé jusqu’à notre hôtel en s’accrochant à notre e-bike par un pied! Heureusement qu’ils étaient là car on a bien fait 10km avec eux. Moralité: les e-bike c’est bien mais il faut être conscients de leur limite.
Vélo ou scooter pour visiter Bagan ?
Nous avons utilisé le vélo et le e-bike pour visiter Bagan. Nous avons beaucoup apprécié la visite en vélo malgré la chaleur qui régnait lors de la visite. On peut se déplacer facilement de temples en temples et on peut plus facilement se faufiler. La visite en e-bike a été un peu chaotique mais on pense avoir été un peu trop gourmands en kilomètres. On a croisé plusieurs voyageurs qui n’avaient eu aucun problème avec leur e-bike car ils avaient fait « seulement » une quarantaine de kilomètres. Personnellement, on recommande davantage le vélo car on apprécie ce moyen de transport mais on a trouvé ça très sympa d’avoir une alternative comme le e-bike.
La magie de Bagan a opéré sur nous et on en garde un très beau souvenir. Après quelques jours à Bagan, nous nous rendons maintenant à Mandalay. On vous raconte la suite très vite :)
Ben faudrait peut être poser la question au gouvernement Birman Alain et pas à un voyageur qui prend la peine de nous faire un retour et qui a contribué à l'enrichissement d'une partie de la population !
Le boycot n'aurait aucune incidence sur la situation des Rohingyas et ne ferait que plonger tout le reste du pays dans la misère et l'oubli.
Mais comme d'hab chacun fait comme il veut hein !
Le monde est comme un miroir, si tu lui souris, il te sourit aussi!
Ah t'es drôle Christophe mais je ne suis pas sûre que notre ami goute ton humour ( c'est le cas de le dire 😉 ).
Il a du partir dire 2 mots à Aung San Suu Kyi et il a bien raison d'ailleurs !
Le monde est comme un miroir, si tu lui souris, il te sourit aussi!
Rohingya, Rohinga, mohinga... il faut savoir de quoi l'on parle avant de se lancer dans un vaste débat, n'est-ce pas ?
Pour ma part, je me contenterai d'un débat sur la mohinga... ce qui normalement devrait éviter toute polémique 😄
On précise que nous sommes allés en Birmanie en Juillet 2017 avant la "crise des Rohingyas". Nous n'avions donc pas connaissance de ce qu'il se passait dans le pays lors de notre séjour. En ce qui concerne la nourriture, nous n'avons pas pu goûter le "mohinga" mais nous avons en revanche adoré les "Shan Noodles" et les salades de thé, un délice.
A présent, nous continuons notre carnet de voyage et on vous emmène à Mandalay.
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Après Bagan direction Mandalay, nous y sommes restés plus longtemps que prévu et nous avons pu prendre le temps de découvrir la ville et ses alentours. Mandalay, c’est le genre de ville qui stimule ton imagination ou au moins celle de Daïnah, qui pensait trouver une ville figée dans le temps et aux inspirations coloniales. Autant vous le dire tout de suite, Mandalay ce n’est pas ça du tout. C’est juste une grande ville insipide. Ce qui vaut le coup en revanche, ce sont les alentours de Mandalay. Nous l’avons bien compris et pour s’y rendre nous avons louer un scooter. C’est le plus économique et ce qui nous a offert également le plus de liberté. Bon il y a quand même quelques sites qui valent le détour à Mandalay, on vous en parle en détail dans cet article.
Mandalay: arrivée un peu chaotique
Une fois n’est pas coutume, notre bus nous amène jusqu’à notre hôtel. Enfin « notre » celui que nous avions noté sur Maps.me car nous n’avions fait aucune réservation. Tant mieux pour nous car quand on arrive sur les lieux, l’hôtel ne nous met pas en confiance. On cherche finalement un autre hôtel et on tombe sur le E1 Motel. Et là c’est le sketch qui commence…Nous demandons une chambre double, « with one double bed » in English. La jeune fille n’a pas l’air de saisir et elle nous montre 3 chambres (oui vous avez bien lu TROIS) avec deux lits jumeaux. On lui demande un seul lit pour 2 et là elle nous regarde sans comprendre. Bon, on finit par abandonner car la jeune fille ne comprend toujours pas et on prend une chambre à lits jumeaux même si on en utilisera qu’un…Cela devait sûrement la dépasser de rencontrer un couple mixte.
Les affaires sont posées, nous avons notre nid douillet et on va sans plus tarder découvrir cette fameuse ville de Mandalay. Et bien la ville est plutôt sale, les visages des birmans sont plutôt fermés et ce n’est pas vraiment joli. Voilà. En revanche, on croise plusieurs restos qui nous donnent l’eau à la bouche. On pousse jusqu’aux remparts du palais royal puis on se cherche un petit resto pour dîner. On se rappelle une adresse pour manger des chapatis pour pas cher vu sur un blog et on tombe finalement dessus. Effectivement, les prix sont imbattables et c’est vraiment bon. Les femmes réalisent les chapatis sous nos yeux et ils sont servis encore bien chauds.
Le lendemain petite journée « off ». On va quand même faire un grand tour au marché Zegyo. C’est un très grand marché où on trouve de tout et on s’y perd pendant un bon moment. On en profite pour faire du shopping, Clément craque pour un longjyi et Daïnah aussi 🙂 Le shopping se prolonge car il se met à pleuvoir. Après l’averse on file à l’hôtel pour se reposer puis on ressort pour dîner. On goûte pour la première fois des shan noodles (un véritable délice) accompagnés de brioches chinoises. La journée se conclue ainsi et on réserve notre lendemain à la visite des alentours de la ville.
Visite de Sagaing
Nous louons un scooter directement à notre hôtel. Un birman arrive avec un scooter tout neuf et le moins qu’on puisse dire c’est qu’il a peur de nous laisser son bébé.
« Vous savez conduire? » « Vous avez déjà conduit un scooter? »
On essaye de le rassurer comme on peut et on part en lui montrant que c’est bon, on gère 🙂 Pour sortir de Mandalay, on longe le fleuve et ce qu’on voit est déconcertant. Il y a des bidonvilles partout au bord du fleuve, la misère était déjà présente dans la ville mais aux alentours, c’est indéniable. On roule un moment puis on prend un long pont qui surplombe l’Irrawwaddy.
Nous visitons la pagode situé sur la colline de Sagaing ainsi que la pagode Soon U Ponya Shin. En arrivant à cette deuxième pagode c’est le drame. Clément entend un léger cri et une odeur de cramé…Daïnah vient de se brûler avec le pot d’échappement sur la jambe. Elle verse un peu d’eau froide dessus et on va visiter la pagode. La pagode est très colorée mais vraiment différente de ce que nous avons pu voir jusqu’à présent. On visite avec nos lonjyi puis on reprend le scooter. La brûlure ressemble désormais à une énorme cloque…Le mal est fait.
Visite de Inwa (Ava)
Cela ne nous empêche pas de continuer notre route vers une autre ville emblématique, Inwa, anciennement appelée Ava. C’est une ancienne capitale royale birmane qui a gardé quelques sites très bien conservés. Lorsqu’on arrive, on trouve un petit restaurant au bord de la route qui fait de très bonnes soupes pour quelques centimes d’euros. Clément en reprend d’ailleurs deux fois. Une fois le ventre rempli, on visite la ville. Il y a un ticket d’entrée à payer de 10,000 kyats. On aurait facilement pu frauder car la personne au guichet ne vérifiait pas trop mais on a préféré la jouer réglo.
L’arrivée à Ava est synonyme de remontée dans le temps. Ici les touristes se déplacent principalement en calèches sur des chemins en terre et les anciens temples en ruines nous transportent des siècles en arrière. Nous sommes les seuls à oser nous déplacer en scooter (économies obligent) à travers cette cité parfaitement conservée où on s’imaginerait vite croiser un membre de la classe royale birmane.
Mais la réalité est toute autre, Ava est aujourd’hui déserte et on ne croise plus grand monde à part quelques birmans curieux et des amoureux transits. Son charme n’en reste pas moins indéniable et on passe beaucoup de temps à visiter cette ville atypique. On croise un petit temple blanc où on s’arrête un moment pour fuir le soleil l’espace de quelques minutes. Un peu plus loin on croise une ancienne tour de garde. Il était encore possible d’y monter l’an passé mais depuis le tremblement de terre de 2016 elle est interdite au public. On s’arrête à une dernière pagode où il est possible de monter afin de surplomber la ville, le panorama est superbe. Notre journée n’est pas encore terminée, nous devons encore nous rendre à Amarapura pour découvrir le célèbre pont U-Bein.
Le Pont U-Bein à Amarapura
Nous reprenons notre scooter pour nous rendre vers Amarapura. Dans cette ville on peut admirer le pont U-Bein, connu pour être le pont le plus long en bois de teck du monde. Nous avons souhaité visiter ce lieu en fin de journée afin d’admirer le coucher de soleil et voir les lumières s’éteindre lentement sur le pont. On a encore un peu de temps devant nous alors on décide de traverser le pont à pied et de boire un verre de l’autre côté. Il y a beaucoup de monde sur le pont, des touristes mais surtout énormément de birmans qui s’amusent à se prendre en selfie sur le pont. Nous traversons tranquillement le pont et nous nous posons à un café. On cherche ensuite un spot pour admirer au mieux le coucher de soleil. On trouve un endroit au bord de la rive et on s’installe. Daïnah installe la GoPro pour faire un timelapse et cela intéresse beaucoup les enfants qui jouent autour de nous. Le soleil commence à décliner et le ciel se transforme peu à peu sous nos yeux. Des teintes mauves, roses et bleu ondulent dans le ciel et nous offre un de nos plus beaux couchers de soleil du voyage.
On reste là à observer ce ciel qui décline jusqu’à ce que la nuit tombe. Il est temps de rentrer à Mandalay après ce superbe spectacle. Il est passé 20h lorsqu’on arrive enfin à Mandalay et pour conclure cette si belle journée, on va manger des chapatis. Après cette longue journée, inutile de vous dire qu’on a dormi comme des bébés.
Visite de Mingun
Le lendemain, on se rend compte un peu tardivement que le bateau pour Mingun part vers 9h et que c’est le seul de la journée ! Il est 8h30 et nous sommes encore à l’hôtel. Heureusement, celui-ci n’est pas loin de l’embarcadère et on se dépêche pour y arriver. Sauf qu’on doit retirer de l’argent entre temps car on a pas assez d’argent pour payer le bateau. On pensait vraiment pas y arriver car nous n’avions croisé aucun distributeur automatique sur la route mais heureusement on en voit un juste avant l’embarcadère en face d’un hôtel de luxe.
Les bords du fleuve sont en fait des bidonvilles et la misère est saisissante. Certains n’ont que quelques branches pour toit et on peut apercevoir des enfants qui jouent dans l’eau sale du fleuve ou qui se lavent. C’est assez incroyable de voir ça là alors qu’en face se dresse des hôtels de luxe et une grande ville comme Mandalay. On atteint l’embarcadère dans les temps et là surprise il y a plein de touristes. On en avait jamais vu autant au même endroit depuis notre arrivée en Birmanie. On paie le bateau et on embarque. C’est parti pour une traversée d’une heure sur le fleuve de l’Irrawwaddy.
On a un bel accueil en arrivant. Un troupeau de vendeurs ambulants nous attend avec des bibelots de toute sorte. On passe notre chemin et surprise. On enfile nos lonjyi et on découvre la ville. On commence par la pagode Hsinbyume, un superbe temple blanc qui contraste fortement avec le ciel bleu en arrière. C’est un superbe édifice. On croise pas mal de birmans dont quelques birmanes qui s’arrêtent en croisant Daïnah. Cette dernière a désormais une technique sans faille pour ce genre de situation, elle se retourne, regarde les birmanes et leur lance un « mingalaba » (« bonjour » en birman), cela se traduit généralement par quelques rires, des sourires et un « mingalaba » en retour.
Après Hsinbyume, nous allons voir la cloche de Mingun. Cette cloche a été pendant longtemps la plus lourde et la plus grande de l’histoire mais cela n’est plus le cas à présent. On peut néanmoins la faire sonner et aller à l’intérieur, ce qui vaut quand même le détour.
Nous terminons notre visite de Mingun par la pagode inachevée qui ressemble donc plus à un gros bloc de pierre qu’à un véritable temple. Il était possible de monter au sommet mais une fois de plus, le tremblement de terre de 2016 a fait des dégâts et il n’est plus possible d’y monter. Après cette visite, on se repose devant ce temple et une vendeuse ambulante nous interpelle. Elle nous parle en français pour nous présenter ces différents articles et elle nous lance même un « c’est moins cher qu’à Leclerc ». On reste interloqués et on la quitte en riant. Décidément, certains touristes apprennent des phrases atypiques aux birmans !
Nous retournons à Mandalay avec le bateau de 12h30 (qui part en fait à 13h). On a donc toute l’après-midi pour visiter la ville de Mandalay sous le soleil. On marche plusieurs kilomètres à pied pour nous rendre à la pagode Kuthodaw. La marche est plutôt agréable dans ce coin de la ville et les gens que nous croisons sont beaucoup plus souriants. Ils nous disent « bonjour » presque à chaque fois et cela change un peu la vision que nous avions de la ville. On arrive enfin à la pagode et on visite. Le ciel commence à changer et on s’en qu’on va se prendre une belle pluie. On repart vers notre hôtel mais c’est trop tard, il pleut à grosses gouttes. On ne peut pas aller plus loin et on décide de s’abriter dans un bar (tant qu’à faire), quelques minutes plus tard c’est le déluge et un gros orage éclate. On décide de manger sur place en buvant quelques bières et on retourne à notre hôtel un peu plus tard dans la soirée sans une seule lumière. L’électricité a été coupé pendant l’orage.
Départ pour Hsipaw et retour à Mandalay
Nous partons quelques jours à Hsipaw en bus et nous revenons quelques jours plus tard à Mandalay pour une dernière journée de visite. Nous revenons avec le train ce qui est super agréable. Cette fois, on trouve un autre hôtel, l’Hôtel Venus qui est beaucoup mieux que celui où nous étions la dernière fois. Durant cette dernière journée à Mandalay, on décide de retourner au Marché Zegyo. Un vaste marché où il y a quantité de nourriture et d’objets en tout genre. On y passe un bon moment à prendre des photos. On décide ensuite d’aller dans le quartier des « faiseurs d’or ». Ces hommes tapent sur des sortes de livres pour affiner des feuilles d’or. Ces dernières seront utilisées par les birmans pour recouvrir certains Bouddhas d’or. Et oui, cela n’est possible que pour les birmans, les birmanes n’ont pas le droit de le faire.
On cherche pendant un moment ce fameux quartier mais le bruit qui se dégage des ateliers ne trompe pas. On suit ce bruit rythmé jusqu’à un atelier où plusieurs sont en plein travail. Vêtus simplement d’un longjyi, ils tapent sur un petit livre de manière régulière afin que chacun garde un certain rythme. Nous les regardons un moment accomplir ce travail titanesque. Le résultat est une feuille d’or incroyablement fine. Nous continuons ensuite notre route et nous tombons sur un véritable « showroom » dédié aux touristes. Il y a d’ailleurs des cars garés devant. Là, il y a des hommes qui travaillent et qui montrent ce qu’ils font aux touristes mais cette fois c’est juste une mise en scène. On ne reste pas là très longtemps et on va manger. Une fois de plus on mange des shan noodles et on accompagne notre repas d’une délicieuse salade de thé. Notre journée à Mandalay s’achève et nous partons ensuite pour la ville de Kalaw.
Nous vous raconterons très prochainement nos quelques jours à Hsipaw puis notre arrivée à Kalaw.
Voici la suite de notre carnet de voyage en Birmanie. Aujourd'hui, on vous emmène à Hsipaw au nord de Mandalay.
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Après notre séjour à Mandalay nous prenons le bus en fin d’après-midi pour nous rendre à Hsipaw, petite ville située un peu plus au nord du pays. Beaucoup de touristes y vont pour apprécier la campagne birmane et surtout pour revenir à Mandalay en train. En effet, ce trajet en train est mythique car il passe par le viaduc de Gokteik qui a un jour tenu le record de 2ème plus long pont du monde. Afin de le conserver, le train passe désormais à 7km heure sur ce viaduc, de quoi avoir le temps d’apprécier les alentours et de prendre des photos.
En route pour Hsipaw
Mais avant de faire ce trajet retour, nous avons d’abord effectué un trajet en bus pour nous rendre à Hsipaw. Un trajet interminable ! Nous sommes partis vers 12h et nous sommes arrivés à 20h. Nous avons pu prendre une bonne pause déjeuner dans un restaurant qui proposait un buffet. Le repas était super bon et nous avons pu goûter plusieurs spécialités birmanes car nous avions droit à une viande et 3 accompagnements. En remontant dans le bus, un birman commence à discuter avec Clément, sauf qu’on ne comprend strictement rien à ce qu’il dit. On se rappelle l’avoir vu siffler une bouteille de whisky dans le resto et on comprend qu’il est bourré. Il va donc essayer de dialoguer avec Clément pendant une bonne heure. Lorsque Clément essaye de l’ignorer, il crie « Hello! Hello! » et il recommence son charabia. Inutile de vous dire que cette heure à été très longue pour Clem ! Heureusement, il finit par s’endormir et Clément peut enfin avoir la paix !
Arrivée à Hsipaw et découverte de la ville
Nous sommes restés deux jours à Hsipaw et nous n’avons pas pu faire énormément de choses à cause de la pluie. On a quand même pu louer un vélo à notre hôtel pour se balader autour de la ville. Nous sommes partis dès le matin et nous avons eu un beau soleil. On a pédalé entre les rizières et on s’est enfoncés dans la campagne birmane. On croise des anciennes rails de train et quelques paysans affairés au champ. On pousse encore un peu et on arrive au Shan Palace. C’est un ancien palais où vit toujours une ancienne princesse Shan. Il est possible de le visiter et de la rencontrer mais ce n’est ouvert que deux heures par jour, de 15h à 17h. Inutile de vous dire qu’on a loupé le coche…
Après quelques heures de vélo on décide de faire une pause dans un petit resto le « Miss Pop Corn Garden ». C’est un resto en dehors de la ville en pleine campagne. C’est un endroit super agréable et on y reste plus d’une heure et demie. Le gérant est très sympa et nous parle un petit peu français, ça fait toujours plaisir ! On se prend chacun un truc à manger et on accompagne le repas d’un bon Fruit Shake. On repart ensuite plein d’énergie pour continuer notre balade.
On passe devant un monastère puis devant d’anciens temples. Ce lieu se nomme « Little Bagan » en référence aux sublimes temples de Bagan. On souhaite continuer notre chemin jusqu’à des sources chaudes mais il a beaucoup plus la veille et pendant la nuit, le terrain est impraticable, en vélo ou à pied. On aperçoit au loin des nuages menaçants et on préfère rebrousser chemin. On a bien fait, l’orage éclate quelques minutes plus tard et on a juste le temps de s’abriter dans notre hôtel pour ne pas être trempés.
En fin de journée, on va boire un verre dans un bar en face de notre hôtel. Le gérant est souriant et sympathique. Il nous confie qu’il a des tables de billards à l’arrière si on souhaite jouer. On garde ça en mémoire pour demain s’il pleut. On dîne sur place et on passe un moment agréable. On observe les birmans autour de nous et comme d’habitude ils ont une petite fiole de whisky posé sur la table en plus de leur bière. Certains mélangent le whisky à la bière pendant que d’autres le prenne sec. Ils sont bien partis pour prendre une cuite !
Le jour suivant il pleut énormément et nous ne pouvons pas faire grand chose. Nous restons à l’hôtel et nous nous rendons ensuite au bar pour aller jouer au billard. A l’arrière du restaurant il y a 6 tables de billards et plusieurs birmans sont là en train de jouer. Ils parient de l’argent et leurs parties sont bien plus intenses que les nôtres, l’alcool aidant. On se fait 2 parties puis on va dîner au bar, une fois de plus on se laisse tenter par une salade de thé et on prend un plat de viande à partager. Cette journée sans visites nous aura permis de nous reposer et de voir un peu comment les locaux passent leur journée quand il pleut (comprenez au bar pour les hommes!).
Train Hsipaw-Mandalay par le viaduc de Gokteik
Le lendemain, nous embarquons dans le train qui nous mènera jusqu’à Mandalay. Nous quittons notre hôtel vers 8h et nous patientons à la gare. Comme partout en Birmanie, nous croisons des meutes de chiens dans les rues dont un groupe de 10 chiens à la gare. Ils font leur petite vie et s’aboient dessus sans même se préoccuper des humains qui attendent le train.
On s’assoit sur un banc en bois et on regarde un peu autour de nous. Il y a des femmes qui arrivent chargés d’ananas sur leur tête et dans des sacs. Au bout du quai, on aperçoit également des montagnes d’ananas empilées les unes sur les autres. Les birmanes, toujours avec leur tanakha sur les joues, s’affairent. Elles attendent du monde pour vendre leurs fruits. L’odeur de l’ananas remplit le quai. Le temps passe et des voyageurs arrivent, des touristes mais aussi des locaux qui n’ont que quelques sacs comme bagages. Surtout de la nourriture d’ailleurs.
L’heure est arrivée, nous prenons nos billets de train et nous embarquons. Les sièges sont plutôt en bon état. Nous nous attendions à avoir des sièges en bois mais ils sont en fait rembourrés et confortables. Les passagers prennent place. Nous sommes dans un carré mais nous ne sommes que 2, ouf. Les vendeuses font des les allers-retours sur le quai pour écouler leur stock d’ananas. Ces dernières partent à une allure folle et remplissent bientôt le train. Nous aurions sans doute aussi craqué si Daïnah n’était pas allergique. Finalement, le train démarre et nous nous éloignons lentement de la gare de Hsipaw.
Nous nous faisons bercer de droite à gauche par les balancements du wagon. Les ananas ont laissé la place aux snacks et aux boissons sur la tête des vendeurs ambulants qui se déplacent de wagons en wagons. Cette fois nous nous laissons tenter et nous achetons des graines de tournesols à une vendeuse, visiblement ravie de vendre quelque chose à des touristes. Elle nous sourit et nous donne notre butin. Une birmane nous offre un peu plus tard des snacks au riz, on adore ça et on la remercie chaleureusement.
Les paysages défilent dans le train mais nous faisons attention lorsque nous passons la tête par la fenêtre. La végétation est luxuriante et au passage du train des branches ou des feuilles sont régulièrement coupées, on comprend mieux pourquoi il y a tant de feuilles d’arbres dans notre wagon. Par moment, le train grince en tournant et le wagon se balance davantage. Le train s’arrête à quelques gares et de nouveaux voyageurs affluent. Une famille s’installe sur le carré d’en face et nous sourient. Ils ont 2 enfants avec eux. Le train repart et très vite nous arrivons aux abords du viaduc. Le viaduc de Gokteik a été inauguré en 1901, il n’est plus tout jeune et il faut bien préparer le train avant tout passage. On s’arrête donc à la dernière gare avant le viaduc et les mécaniciens procèdent à une dernière inspection tandis que les militaires embarquent dans le train.
Le viaduc est célèbre et il ne faudrait pas qu’un accident se produise. En effet, il est interdit de se lever ou d’aller aux toilettes pendant la traversée du viaduc, on ne sait jamais. Le train redémarre lentement et nous arrivons rapidement au viaduc. Le train passe un tunnel et tourne en grinçant fortement. La tête de train arrive sur le viaduc à une allure de 7km heure. Wagon par wagon, curieux et habitués passent la tête par la fenêtre pour le clou de spectacle. Sous le viaduc, il y a plus d’une centaine de mètres et au loin de la verdure, uniquement. Nous passons très lentement sur le viaduc et chacun est comme hypnotisé par ce léger grincement et par la majesté architecturale de ce pont. Le passage aura duré 5 bonne minutes peut être moins mais la magie a opéré.
Le train reprend ensuite de la vitesse et beaucoup de touristes s’arrêtent à Pyin Oo Lwin. Soit pour prendre un bus qui les amènera plus rapidement à Mandalay soit pour y passer quelques jours. Nous, nous avons choisi de continuer notre route jusqu’à Mandalay. L’excitation est retombée et le temps se fait plus long. On regarde de temps à autre dehors mais le moment qu’on attendait est passé. Les vendeurs ambulants ne passent plus dans les wagons et on s’occupe comme on peut. La famille birmane a côté de nous nous propose à manger et nous donne également de la poudre pour soulager les douleurs d’estomac. On ose pas refuser et on goûte cette poudre marron qui pique le bout de la langue. Les enfants sont incroyablement calme et à chaque fois qu’ils croisent notre regard, ils sont souriants.
Le soleil commence à tomber alors que nous sommes toujours au beau milieux de montagnes. Le train doit faire des marches avant/arrière dans la montagne afin de descendre de plusieurs mètres. C’est long. La lumière s’allume dans les wagons, on aperçoit au loin des lumières et on espère que c’est Mandalay qui s’approche. Nous arrivons finalement vers 20h30 à Mandalay, crevés mais ravis de notre périple en train.
Notre voyage en Birmanie touche presque à sa fin. Notre étape sera le lac Inle.
Je vais aller à Hpa An mi-décembre et c'est avec intérêt avec je lis vos aventures :)
Au sujet de la grotte de Saddan, auriez vous pu garder vos chaussures aux pieds(pour éviter de marcher dans la crotte de chauve-souris) car cette grotte n'etait pas reellement "sacrée" ou bien auriez vous aimé avoir vos chaussures a la sortie de la grotte qui n'etait qu'une partie de l'excursion ?
Une fois arrivés à la grotte, nous laissons nos chaussures à l’entrée (oh la grosse erreur – nous allons vite le regretter).
Si je comprends bien l'aller se fait dans la grotte et au retour on la contourne en bateau ce qui fait une sorte de boucle ?
Merci et bonne journée,
Olivier.
Puissiez vous trouver de l'eau et de l'ombre.
Same same but different
Bonjour Olivier,
La grotte en elle-même n'est pas sacrée mais les birmans y ont installé un temple à l'entrée qui, lui, est sacré. Le problème vient plus du fait qu'il y avait de l'eau dans la grotte (20-30cm de profondeur) donc nous avons préféré enlever nos chaussures histoire de ne pas les tremper :). Je pense que vous pouvez les enlever et les garder avec vous le temps de traverser la grotte, puis les remettre en sortant pour prendre le bateau ! Oui le trajet se fait bien dans ce sens là, c'est peut-être possible dans le sens inverse mais nous n'avons vu personne le faire. N'oubliez pas d'amener une lampe frontale :).
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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...
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
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...)
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.
Just back from two weeks in Andalusia, and I wanted to share this experience with you—maybe it’ll help with planning a trip. I’ll start with a quick recap in this post and try to add photos and day-by-day details later (still sorting through them). Hope I don’t bore you too much! 😎
Trip details:
April 20 to May 4, 2019:
7 days on the Costa de la Luz (El Puerto de Santa María) in an Airbnb,
4 days at the junction of the Costa del Sol and Costa Tropical (Salobreña) in an Airbnb,
3 days at Cabo de Gata for some rest at a campsite in Los Escullos.
Two families of four, each with our own car: three 9-year-old boys and a 6-year-old girl. One family was more into city exploration (not us, but we’re working on it), and the other preferred relaxation and nature (that’s us). We speak a little Spanish.
Over 5,000 km, including 2,500 km for the round trip from Carcassonne.
The weather: Variable, but we expected better for this region in late April. The first week on the Costa de la Luz was sometimes chilly (< 20°C), and the second week was warmer but not excessive (< 25°C). At least we didn’t get much rain!
Our budget: Around 2600 € per family:
700 € for accommodations, about 50 € per night,
1000 € for meals and restaurants. We usually spent around 50 € per family at restaurants—we ate out for lunch (except for 2–3 picnics) and cooked at home in the evenings, trying to be back by 6 PM.
600 € for activities: Río Tinto, a flamenco show, visits to the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar, Oasis Park with meals, and a kayaking trip.
300 € for gas and tolls.
Preparation: A few months ahead with bookings for accommodations and tickets for the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar. We used a few travel guides—I like the *Évasion* guide for initial planning. *Géoguide* was okay, but our friends’ *Routard* was the most useful. We also spent three months brushing up on Spanish with Mosalingua (a great spaced-repetition method, max 10 minutes a day). Downloaded Maps.me and the Andalusia map in advance—essential. And we used Tricount to track shared expenses with friends—super handy.
What we did/saw:
3 city visits (Seville, Granada, and Cádiz) + Málaga for our friends (we vetoed Córdoba—too many cities for us).
4 white villages (Vejer de la Frontera, Arcos de la Frontera, Grazalema, Ronda) + Tarifa for our friends.
Beaches (Tarifa and Bolonia, Matalascañas, Nerja, Cabo de Gata).
Nature and fun moments: Doñana National Park, a kayaking trip along the rocky coast near Nerja, and the Wild West/animal park in the Tabernas Desert.
A little culture: Río Tinto mines, the archaeological site of Itálica, Columbus’s caravels, Nerja Cave for us, and the Picasso Museum in Málaga for our friends. Plus, seeing the ham-drying process in the Alpujarras (for our friends).
Our highlights
Nerja and the surrounding villages: The rocky coast was amazing, and we loved the kayaking trip, even if the water was freezing for snorkeling. The beaches are sheltered from the wind, the town is charming, and the cave is incredible.
El Rocío and Doñana National Park. El Rocío has a timeless, almost Wild West vibe—we could’ve stayed a day or two. The quiet and pine scents reminded us of the Landes region.
What we didn’t love as much:
Río Tinto mines: Not super exciting, and the guides’ nonstop chatter kind of ruined the "nature" experience.
Our little regrets (for next time):
Forgetting our passports and missing a day trip to Tangier from Tarifa.
Not having an extra day around Nerja to go snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada—just 1.5 hours away (the kayak guide suggested it).
Not spending at least one night in El Rocío to explore Doñana National Park at dawn.
Antequera with the Guadalhorce reservoir and the Caminito del Rey (but it would’ve meant 2 more hours of driving, and we didn’t have the energy).
My general impressions of Andalusia and Spain
Landscapes: A feeling of extreme concentration of a single activity in some areas—endless olive groves, wind farms on the Costa de la Luz (which I thought were well-integrated), rows of buildings along the Costa del Sol (yikes, glad we didn’t stop there), greenhouses around Almería (a shame to have frozen the coast for so many kilometers), and the massive industrial port of Huelva.
What surprised us compared to France was the lack of small hamlets—villages are clearly defined, and people cluster there, leaving vast landscapes without human presence. In France, you find houses scattered everywhere.
Roads: Relatively few tolls. Sure, rest areas aren’t as nice as in France, but the roads are in good condition, and our wallet was happy. The roads are pretty straight with countless bridges and tunnels—the upside (besides fast travel) is that there aren’t many secondary roads disrupting the scenery.
Tourism and activities: A huge variety and richness. Feels like everyone can find something they like, and 15 days barely scratched the surface. It’s amazing how quickly you go from the coast to snow-capped peaks (Sierra Nevada) or from farmland to desert (Tabernas). And the mix of European and Arabic architecture in the same city is really special.
One small regret: Not interacting more with locals. We didn’t luck out with our Airbnbs. But shopkeepers were great—very patient with my broken Spanish! :-)
Overall, I think our choice to stay on the Costa de la Luz and then near Nerja worked well. We could explore pretty easily (even if we logged a lot of kilometers), and the settings were fantastic. The 3 days of total relaxation at Cabo de Gata were perfect.
If you prefer shorter stops, you could try staying in El Rocío (easy access to Seville and great for an early visit to Doñana National Park) or maybe Grazalema for a hike in the mountains (weather-dependent). And of course, Tarifa for a day trip to Tangier or Gibraltar.
La Pagode Swedagon à Yangon
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
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.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
A little sneak peek?
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.
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.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
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.
