Another trip planned during Covid. Actually, for 2020, I had three trips booked, with tickets purchased and everything. This one to Uzbekistan was planned for April 2020. We postponed it to April 2021, but it was canceled again, and we couldn’t reschedule for April 2022 because our friends who were coming with us were busy. So, we chose summer, knowing the temperatures would likely be very high.

We left as a group of five: a couple we usually travel with and one of their friends, whom I knew. She was traveling alone and had dreamed of this trip but didn’t want to go by herself.

For organization, we went through an agency to handle the train tickets and our trip to the Aral Sea. It’s not my usual style, but back in 2020, we were already in touch with them, and they were very understanding during the two cancellations. It wasn’t easy, given the economic crisis Covid caused, especially in Uzbekistan.

Again, I’m writing this travel journal from memory since I didn’t take any notes. (It’s good to give your brain a workout now and then!)

Day 1: Off to Tashkent

We flew in the afternoon to Istanbul, had a 2-hour-15-minute layover in Turkey, and then took an overnight flight to arrive early in the morning in Tashkent. Problem (again): just before taking off from Saint-Exupéry, the plane had an issue with the landing gear. We waited two hours, and after a few hammer and wrench adjustments, we finally took off. Of course, by the time we arrived in Istanbul, it was a mad dash through the airport to catch our connecting flight. We landed at 7:30 AM in Tashkent, and of the five suitcases in our little group, two were missing (one of ours and the solo traveler’s). Big problem because we were leaving at 2:30 PM by train for the Aral Sea, and we wouldn’t be near an airport again for three days. Plus, at the small airport in the Uzbek capital, no one spoke English (or French, or the Ardèche dialect). Fortunately, we had booked a guide for a quick morning tour of the capital. We had seven hours to kill, and it seemed smart to do it this way (and yes, sometimes we do think ahead). With him speaking English and, more importantly, Uzbek, the delivery of our suitcases was arranged.

So, we set off to explore the capital. It’s very Soviet in design—wide avenues and ugly buildings.

We visited the Khasti Imam historical complex (first name to pronounce at your own risk—there will be plenty more during the trip). Lots of "oohs" and "aahs" about how beautiful it was, but in the end, compared to what we saw later, it was really just small potatoes.

We checked out Chorsu Bazaar, the city’s large covered market. The guide was friendly and gave us plenty of tips for the rest of the trip. He suggested a restaurant, which we accepted, so we could get familiar with local customs. The good thing was, it didn’t seem like a tourist trap.

Next, we headed to the train station because our train was at 2:30 PM. The guide left us, and then another problem arose. While going through security, one of the staff made it clear that our train was canceled and our ticket needed to be changed to the train leaving around 8:20 PM. Heatwave moment (it was 38°C). Our issue was that we were supposed to arrive in Nukus (our destination) at 6:00 AM and take a minibus for a round trip to Moynaq and the Aral Sea (four hours each way). The plan was to spend 2-3 hours there and return, so a 10-11-hour timeline. Leaving at 6:00 AM made it doable, but with the train now leaving at 8:20 PM, we’d arrive in Nukus at noon, which messed up the rest of the plan.

I was fuming at the agency (I really don’t like using agencies), so I called the local contact, who quickly sent our guide back (because trying to communicate, change tickets, and get information was tough).

I asked the manager to find us flight tickets to make up for the delay, but nothing—zilch—was possible. We were stuck! My buddy and I were determined to get to Moynaq, but the women in the group were less motivated.

No choice but to board the train for an overnight journey. We had a cabin for two (and our friend had one to herself). Big scare at first—no AC, and it felt like 150°. They told us it would work once the train started moving, which it did. A frugal meal in the dining car (spaghetti with meat—the only dish on offer) and we had a good night’s sleep.

The +: Finally, we’re here! The -: A lot of hassles to start the trip

Prologue

This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…

A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.

And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.

Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.

As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.

Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.

A somewhat lengthy title... I could have simply written: from Bangkok to Chiang Rai, via Chiang Mai, since that was my route. But when poets embellish our travel journals with their verbal flourishes, you’ve got to try not to be too ordinary.

Skyscrapers of excess? You’ll have gathered that from the photo illustrating this journal—though it might change as the trip goes on.

The excess of markets—not so much in their size, though... Chatuchak... But in their sheer number. Day markets, night markets, floating markets, fresh produce markets, fish markets, meat markets, spice markets, fabric markets... and even... amulet markets... For luck, good fortune, protection. Not to mention, sadly, the market for girls—and boys, incidentally. I’ve even heard they’re displayed in windows. I’ve heard about that one, like you have, but I didn’t set foot in it, so I can’t say anything about it. Some even claim there’s a black-market trade in children. Disgusting! It reminded me of the book *The Parcel* by Anosh Irani, which I recommended in another journal. The story is set in India, but I’ve been told it exists in Thailand too. So, the "famous Thai markets" we’re bombarded with in paper and online guides—sure, they amazed me in the first few days, and I don’t regret visiting them. But no matter how big they were, I quickly got my fill since you saw the same things at every stall...

I had a market overdose.

Excess of tourism? I should say *tourists*, since I saw them literally swarming in the streets and those famous markets. I’d forgotten about them. I’d lost the habit, living in an Indian city for so long...

Waterfalls are a bit like markets. At this time of year, they’re not particularly spectacular, but they’re everywhere. There are the ones everyone goes to see. For example, Erawan, which I decided to skip even though it was in my original itinerary—I guessed it’d be a nightmare with the selfie circus. On the other hand, you come across them all over the place, hidden in the mountains and forests, not listed in any guide. Not to mention the ones you can find in temples or even private homes... Yes, really! Thais love waterfalls, so they install them in their gardens—and I even saw one in the middle of the city, right on the street! Sometimes they’re tiny, but very photogenic.

But what do ice cubes have to do with this? Why the excess of ice cubes? Not only are they everywhere by the ton, but they put them in *everything* you drink. You’d think they’d even put them in soup! And it’s not just one or two ice cubes—no! They fill the container to the brim, whatever it is, then pour the liquid on top to fill the gaps. They’ll make you an excellent coffee right in front of you, piping hot, then—bam! An avalanche of ice cubes in the glass. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little. They *do* sometimes ask if you prefer your coffee—or tea—hot. Everything edible, and especially everything drinkable, is refrigerated: vegetables, fruit, hot drinks (I mean, drinks that are *usually* hot), but meat and fish are left out in the open. They just wave a little whisk to shoo away the flies when they get too eager. Mind you, I never put fruit, cheese, eggs, or water in the fridge in France, but I do in India. And I refrigerate meat and fish too... Though sometimes one of those little flies sneaks into the fridge...

You won’t find practical or technical details in this journal, like addresses or prices. Others do that better than me. You also won’t find the names of obscure or unknown places I discovered, or directions to get there.

I don’t really feel like recounting what I saw day by day, following my schedule and route. There might be flashbacks, projections into the future. It’ll depend on my memories, what I felt, what I hated, what comes back to me—and maybe your questions and our exchanges. And for those who’ve never read me before, you’ll have to get used to my parentheses and digressions, maybe on a completely different subject, as my thoughts wander. Stories within stories. There’ll also be long, endless sentences—but still punctuated, so you can follow along. Though I used to curse Proust and his sentences that started on one page and ended on the next, sometimes even further. I’d have to reread them twenty times to follow and understand what he was saying. I hated Proust. But hey, I was 20. Maybe I’d like him now?

See? The digressions are starting already. Forgive me.

You’ll find few photos here. First, the number is limited, and second, photos aren’t the main purpose of either VF or a travel journal. They’re too often used to mask the poverty of the text. And, sorry to say it, but so many of them are just plain ugly! If you really want to see photos, I’ll share some links where you can browse them at your leisure

We took this trip from September 12 to October 7, 2022. I didn’t post this travel journal earlier in Voyage Forum because the site wasn’t back up yet (and also because I was short on time). Then, at the end of 2024, I made a promise to a friend: to publish my travel journal on VF. So here it is! We took off from Paris in the late afternoon on September 12 and arrived in Tashkent around 7:15 AM on the 13th. This trip was the result of long contemplation and preparation (it was originally planned for the year of the lockdown (2020) and was prepared with the help and advice of Nasrullo Jumanov from Turquoise Travel. Stages and Itinerary Stage 1: Tashkent - September 13 and 14 Stage 2: Ferghana Valley – September 15 to 17 Stage 3: Nukus and Moynaq - September 18 and 19 Stage 4: Mysterious Khiva - September 20 to 22 Stage 5: Holy Bukhara - September 23 to 26 Stage 6: Asraf - September 27 and 28 Stage 7: Mythical Samarkand - September 29 to October 2 Stage 8: Tersak (via Shakhrisabz and Urgut) – October 3 and 4 Stage 9: Samarkand – October 5 and 6 Stage 10: Tashkent/Istanbul/Paris – October 6 and 7 Stage 1: Tashkent September 13 At the airport exit, we were greeted by the owner of our B&B (B&B Gulnara). Today was all about recovery and our first steps in the capital. Our first currency exchange made us feel like sudden millionaires. Our first stroll down the avenue leading to Chorsu Market introduced us to the fact that 80 to 90% of the cars here are white Chevrolets. A walk under the arcades facing Chorsu: hardware stores, cabinetmakers, lute makers (one of them gave me a little concert/demo of a few string instruments).





As we entered the market, many vendors called out to us, including this florist who asked where we were from: ‘France? Ah! Macron! PSG!’ He then recited a list of players from the Parisian team as well as past (Platini, Zidane, etc.) and current (Giroud, Griezmann, Mbappé, etc.) French national team players. Since we’re more into rugby (we live near Toulouse), he knew more players than I did!

The market sprawls outside around the large circular, multi-story hall. We bought some grapes and bottles of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice for just a few sums. This evening, we had a meet-up with Nasrullo. The reunion was very warm: we’d been exchanging messages for over two years, and I’d been ‘torturing’ him with changes to our itinerary and trip duration. We were finally eager to meet, and honestly, I wasn’t disappointed—in fact, it was the opposite. Nasrullo was very attentive throughout our trip and always made sure, even from a distance (and most often from a distance!), that everything went smoothly. His goal was for us to leave delighted with our trip and, why not, indirectly become ambassadors for this destination. September 14 Breakfast with Nasrullo, then we set off with him by taxi to explore some of the capital’s sites.



We started by visiting the Khazrati Imam complex, which includes the mausoleum of Kaffal Shashi, the Barak Khan and Muyi Muborak madrasas, and the great Khazrati Imam Mosque with its immense prayer hall.





In the Muyi Muborak madrasa, now a museum, you can see the oldest Quran in the world. It was written by three religious scholars, including the secretary of the Prophet Muhammad, on large ‘pages’ made of antelope skin. Next, we explored Soviet-era Tashkent, discovering its parks, canals, and squares: Independence Square with its storks and phoenixes, Amir Temur Square with its large statue and, in the background, the massive Soviet-era hotel that has become one of Tashkent’s iconic buildings. Nasrullo took us through Broadway Boulevard and along what he calls ‘Tashkent’s Montmartre’… Well, it’s far, very far from Montmartre (in every sense of the word!). Then we took the metro to Chorsu station. Rush hour is pretty much the same everywhere in the metro… When we arrived at Chorsu, it was time to say goodbye. Nasrullo had to head back to Samarkand. Before leaving, he recommended some chaikhanas at the end of the galleries facing the market. We ate there for just a few euros (2 or 3 € for two people). After eating, we headed back to our room to cool off (our B&B is about a 10-minute walk away).



Around 4 PM, we set off to visit the Kokeldash Madrasa, which is still active. On the way, we stopped to watch some bread vendors and take a few photos. We were hesitating about buying some for our evening picnic when a young woman approached us. In perfect English, she asked: ‘Are you looking for something? Do you want to buy bread? Which one? How much?’ She then spoke to one of the vendors and negotiated the price. ‘Do you want one?’ And she took two. She paid directly. I took out my wallet to reimburse her, but she refused. It’s on the house! Then the vendor asked where we were from. And off we went again: Macron, PSG, football players… We’ll have to get used to it. The young woman smiled at the questions and comments, barely gave us time to thank her, and left as quickly as she had approached us.

We continued our walk. Visited the madrasa. Then we crossed the boulevard to see the Tashkent Circus. I would’ve loved to go in and visit, but the ticket seller wouldn’t hear of it. We carried on around what should’ve been a park with old-fashioned rides and attractions. All we found was a construction site. Oh well! Back at our hotel, a message from Nasrullo was waiting for us. He had managed to change our train ticket for the next day. Instead of taking the 6:00 AM train, we’d take the 8:00 AM one. And instead of second class, we’d be in first class! Great! This evening, we had a picnic at one of the breakfast tables in the B&B courtyard. Under a shelter, the owner and his family were celebrating a birthday. The owner started by offering us some tea. Then they brought us some fruit (watermelon and melon). Finally, after the song, candles, and cake cutting, they brought us two generous slices of that beautiful birthday cake. Delicious!

Hey fellow travelers!

So, a new year has begun. It’s time to reconnect with the VF buddies and wish you all my best for 2026—a year I hope is obviously full of travel, since, as I just made up: "If travel’s good, everything’s good" 😄.

To celebrate, I’m inviting you into my new "travel journal," the one from our latest trip in November 2025, a little two-week adventure.

This time, we headed to The Gambia, a tiny country tucked right in the middle of Senegal, before making our way to Casamance.

The Gambia is English-speaking, Senegal is French-speaking, but the locals? They couldn’t care less—because in this part of the world, they mostly speak Wolof, Fula, Jola, or Mandinka. Hence the title: Senegambia 😉.

As usual, I’m sharing the live updates I sent to friends and family—super casual, of course.

I know this isn’t the kind of destination that draws crowds, but if you love adventure, laughter, and emotion, it might just be your thing 😊.

Hugs 😘

February 9th is a pivotal day during my trip to Thailand. Up until this date, my focus had been on cities, temples, and other urban landmarks. Starting February 10th, I’ll finally leave the city behind for the outskirts—one town, one life, farther from tourism, more real, more authentic... Then comes the bucolic surroundings of Chiang Mai, nature, the countryside, the mountains.

This morning, I head to visit the ethnographic museum. I’d been told about another one, but it’s permanently closed. I wonder if it’s the same one that might have changed its name and location.

I thoroughly enjoy visiting this museum. At first, I’m a bit annoyed because the place is packed with noisy school groups blocking the display cases without even showing the slightest interest. But soon, their chaperones manage to lead them into another room, giving me some peace. They maintain this distance throughout the tour, allowing me to explore the museum in complete tranquility. I really appreciate their tact.

I’m amazed by the absolutely stunning fabric displays and the countless everyday objects, especially the very old pottery. There’s so much beautiful basketry and intricately carved wood. The statues are also incredible... After seeing all of them, I no longer feel like buying any from the shops.

On my way back, not far from my hotel, I discover a rather unique place that only serves one drink, which they’ve made their specialty: egg coffee! A pretty surprising novelty. I have to try it.



At the bottom of the cup, they pour a layer of milk, topped with a layer of liquid coffee, followed by a layer of egg yolk, and finally a top layer that turns out to be a mix of coffee and cocoa powder. It’s a cold drink that, in the end, doesn’t have much flavor, and the price is pretty steep for such a small cup. You’re paying for the exclusivity!

Later in the day, I venture once again into small alleys, something I love doing when exploring a new city—no specific goal, just wandering east of the city, outside the walls.



I encounter very few tourists there and discover unsuspected little shops overflowing with lovely items, much cheaper than what you find in the heart of the tourist district. Then I wander through the floors of Warorot Market. I discover another kind of temple there: the temple of good deals. I love finding clothes that are really original for locals, not the flood of shirts and pants that tourists love but no Thai would ever buy, which invade the shops in the "Historic Square." I stop in my tracks in front of a stall with beautiful shirts featuring stunning geometric patterns in elegant color combinations and very short sleeves. Hmm, these would be perfect for showing off my biceps, one of which is adorned with the magnificent Ganesh tattoo I got last year in Bali. "When you’ve got nice things, you’ve got to show them off!" he said. 😜🙏💪 I pick out two for 380 baht and negotiate them down to 300. But the seller won’t go any lower. I understand I’ve reached the limit of her commercial possibilities. Just as I’m leaving the shop, happy with my purchase, my ever-helpful inner voice, Petite Voix, suggests: - You didn’t try them on because you were too lazy to take off the one you’re wearing and also because of the sweat, but you could just put one on over the one you’re wearing. It’s light enough that it won’t bother you.

I go back to the two sellers, who burst out laughing when I ask to try them on. - Oh no, it’s way too small for you! It’s a women’s shirt! - But they don’t look particularly feminine in style! And I chose XXL... I put the shirt on, and of course, it won’t close. Then I notice the buttons are on the wrong side. That’s why the sleeves seemed so short!!! They put the shirts back on the rack and refund me without any fuss, commenting amid total hilarity: - Well, thank goodness you tried it on just as you were leaving the shop!

Since I don’t want to walk too much before tomorrow’s first Big Outing with the driver, I end my stroll with a visit to two very pretty temples recommended by Joël.



I’d rather not post more temple photos. But these ones smell like village and countryside...







I’ve never seen anything like Wat Ket Karam, so extravagant...





And I end my day with two other lesser-known temples: Wat Noung Kham, simple and finally free of gold and glitter,



and Wat Dap Phai, where an intimate ceremony is taking place at the end of the day.

Hey there, forum friends 😉

Some of you have mentioned missing the activity on this Indian "page," so let’s try to liven things up a bit—with joy and good vibes (mandatory with me 😜). Plus, it’ll make Jojoone happy 😊.

As big lovers of India—we’ve been six times—my co-traveler husband and I decided to explore Rajasthan this time around. The reason we waited so long to come here? We were dreading the tourist crowds in this state. But thanks to the timing (late March to early April 2024, which is starting to get pretty hot) and Aleph’s great tips, we were *very* far from mass tourism.

We spent three weeks getting around on our own for transport: mostly taxis and trains.

And I’ll admit, we had a rather "Arabian Nights" experience, far from the "real" India (Marien, if you’re reading this 😉). So this travel journal makes no claims other than to share what we saw, experienced, and felt—with all our ignorance about this country (which I’m fully aware of).

But fair warning: I go overboard with emojis, and this journal is super casual because it’s the one I share, almost in "live" mode, with our loved ones.

So, if you’re here, consider yourself almost part of the family 😄.

See you soon and....

Fellow travelers,

Don’t they say "never two without three"? It seems so. Here I am again on the forum to share—and let’s be honest, indulge a bit of selfish pleasure—by recounting the story of this third installment in the Land of the Rising Sun.

Where? It’s all in the title. On the island of Kyushu in southern Japan, more precisely in the northwest between Fukuoka and Nagasaki. I hope to take you along with me for 19 nights and 18 full days this autumn of 2024. On the itinerary: gastronomy, crafts, festivals, waterfalls, encounters, and leisurely strolls in all simplicity.

A last-minute flight booked just 7 days before departure, and the route evolved regularly based on whims and accommodation availability, eventually settling on this:

- 5 nights in Fukuoka: Fukuoka city, Ukiha, Itoshima, Dazaifu, Yanagawa - 4 nights in Hasami, Nagasaki Prefecture: Okawachiyama, Arita, Takeo, Kashima, Yobuko, Karatsu, Kabeshima - 6 nights in Nagasaki: Ureshino, Higashi-Sonogi, Nagasaki city, Unzen, Sotome - 4 nights in Fukuoka: Karatsu, Fukuoka city

Most of the trip was done by car for practical reasons—easier access to certain places and freedom of movement—but also for the sheer joy of it. Despite slow traffic at times, driving in rural Japan is a delight.

If the program interests you, see you soon for the start of the journey.

Just back from a week on Nosy Boraha, better known as Île Sainte-Marie. Mostly on Île aux Nattes, actually, at the very south of the island—literally just a few hundred meters from Sainte-Marie’s airport. Far east of Madagascar, and if you keep going straight, you’ll hit Australia.

We flew in through that airport to avoid a long, rough road trip before and after Tamatave, plus a boat ride that could be short or long (boat time was inversely proportional to the bus ride to the port for the Sainte-Marie ferry). No issues with Tsaradia—departures and returns were on time, service was impeccable, and the ATR plane was smooth. Too bad the prices are so high. We managed a change due to a delayed Kenya Airways flight.

First, we stayed in the northern half, on the west coast of the island, at Natiora Green Lodge. The place is absolutely stunning—a little cove opening onto a small bay dotted with rocky outcrops under lush vegetation. The bungalows are practically on the beach, in a gorgeous, forested setting alive with birdsong. It’s the perfect spot for a pirate crew and just begs for daydreaming. No reef barrier, so it gets deep pretty quickly, but the rocks have healthy coral and plenty of small fish. Great snorkeling—we even saw a turtle. Really, really nice. The only downside is that it’s a bit far from the island’s center and kinda isolated, so eating anywhere but the hotel or going for a walk without a rental car or tuk-tuk is tricky. Not impossible, but harder than if you’re somewhere livelier.

Next, we moved to Île aux Nattes at Baboo Village, which overlooks the channel between Nosy Boraha and Nosy Nato. The bungalows are right on the water, nicely and simply decorated, with a restaurant and terrace right next door. You get to the hotel directly by pirogue from Sainte-Marie’s "embarcadère"—it takes 2-3 minutes, or a little longer if the motor’s acting up. The owner is super friendly and welcoming, with a relaxed, "family/friendly" vibe. There are often a few lemurs in the hotel’s park, adding life to the place, and the vegetation is beautiful once again. The path that circles the island starts right at the hotel entrance, making it easy to reach the island’s dock and the different beaches on the west, east, or even south. Several restaurants are within walking distance, and nothing’s far by pirogue anyway. You can also find the island’s "center" with a few small shops for basic supplies or a meal at a hotely. Since there’s no electricity on the island, the generator at the hotel runs from 6 PM to 10 PM, but you can charge your phone anytime by leaving it at reception. Kayaks are free to use and great for exploring—the whole island is doable, even if you’re not an expert. Just take your time. The upside of Île aux Nattes and Sainte-Marie’s east coast is the reef barrier and lagoon (unlike the west side), which means those gorgeous water colors, accessible coral, and shallow swimming spots. The only downside of Baboo for me, since I love snorkeling, is its location right on the channel. Personally, I prefer the south side of Île aux Nattes (near the Aurora) or the east side (like Kintana) for the lagoon views and easier snorkeling (though my wife didn’t agree). But as I said, those spots are still super easy to reach from Baboo. The west side’s okay, but I like it less—except for the view of Madagascar and the sunset. Again, totally subjective.

On Sainte-Marie, we didn’t try any restaurants other than Natiora’s. Not a ton of options, but it was fine. We weren’t fans of Chez Nono in Baie d’Ampanihy—overpriced for the tiny portions. Sure, the crab was good, but there was so little of it for the price. A bit of a rip-off, since crabs are everywhere and can’t cost much for Nono. On Île aux Nattes, there are plenty of little restaurants. We tried three—Chez Adelaide, La Buvette, and Coco Sud—and every time, we had fish or seafood, and it was always good and generous, with great achards. Prices were very reasonable.

Of course, we soaked up the time, the light, the beauty of the place, the sounds, the smells... just chilling in full *tranquillou billou* mode.

We also did some activities. Snorkeling—I’ll come back to it. In 2019, I thought it was a disaster, with no nice spots and really disappointing. This year, I jumped in everywhere I could and tested spots I’d spotted on Maps or during my last trip. And it was *really* good. Mostly on Île aux Nattes: the south side near the sacred islet, west in front of Kintana, west north of the channel (especially the sand islets), and on Sainte-Marie at Natiora’s rocks. Lots of healthy coral and plenty of fish typical of the area. If you’re into big fish, this isn’t the place, but if you love coral and little critters, it’s awesome. Snorkeling outside the reef was disappointing again, and diving was too. Unless you get lucky, it’s not worth it, in my opinion.

The tour of Île aux Nattes with a meal included was great—perfect for taking breaks whenever you find a pretty spot to snorkel or just relax on a nice beach.

A trip to the sand islets was also really fun. You can’t stay long because it gets super hot, and you’re at the mercy of the tides. There’s a good flock of terns that probably nest there. The coral reefs on the east side of the islet are gorgeous. Really, really nice. Plus, the islets themselves are just stunning.

We chose to go to Ampanihy via the lagoon, hugging the shore—it’s beautiful, with amazing colors, a wilder coastline than the west, and views of seaweed farms. It’s a long trip, though, and at Ampanihy, there’s a pretty beach (but there are tons elsewhere) and a nice mangrove. Maybe it’s better to go by road to the bay and take a boat to explore the lagoon and stop somewhere without going all the way to Ampanihy, saving yourself 2 hours of boat time round-trip. Once there, you can take a little pirogue tour to the beach and through the mangrove. The way we did it, the trip wasn’t essential. As I said, Chez Nono was disappointing—bring a picnic or try Chez Samson instead.

Of course, we visited the pirate cemetery, a place I love even though there’s not much left to see—just a few graves, unfortunately, and some vandalism. The site is still magical, though, and you can let your thoughts drift with La Buse and William Kidd, who passed through here.

We organized all our outings with Crépin, who runs two small boats with his brother. We met him totally by chance, but we don’t regret it. We could adjust the trips based on what we wanted—where to stop or which spot to visit next—and Crépin handled the meals. Prices were super affordable for a full day. I can share his number if you want. We didn’t try anyone else, but I’m sure there are other great operators—I just can’t compare or recommend.

Good prep for anyone looking for an alternative to Nosy Be. Way fewer activities, sure, but also way fewer people and a really nice vibe on Sainte-Marie in general, and Île aux Nattes in particular. The beaches are more beautiful than Nosy Be’s, and there’s a reef and lagoon (it *is* the pirate island, after all). And in whale season, well, the whales.

All in all, a great place to stay for a trip.

A new work assignment means our vacation dates can't stay the same.

We had planned to go to the Canary Islands, but flight prices are skyrocketing with this new holiday schedule.

So, I’m looking for an alternative to Gran Canaria and El Hierro and found two round-trip flights with Wizz Air to Tirana.

398 €, including baggage and seats—perfect!

Plus, the departure and return times are great, which is pretty rare for a low-cost flight!

All that’s left is to rent a car, plan the route, and book accommodations.

With two weeks, we’ll have to make some choices!

Here’s the final itinerary: Shkodra (2 nights), Valbonë (3 nights), Tirana (1 night), Lake Ohrid (1 night), Korçë (1 night), Përmet (1 night), Gjirokastër (1 night), Himarë (2 nights), Berat (2 nights), and Krujë (1 night).

A mix of countryside and small towns, a bit of the Mediterranean, and some mountains!

Late October isn’t the best season, so let’s keep our fingers crossed for the rest...

Kattegat isn’t just the name of the village in the TV series *Vikings*—it’s also the stretch of water separating Denmark from Sweden... the sea, basically! And further north, you’ve got Norway and its fjords! Originally, I’d planned to just do a loop around Kattegat, with the *Under* restaurant in Lindesnes as our anniversary treat... but along the way, we thought, why not "push" a little further north, keeping an eye on the budget since we’d chosen to travel by car in June 2025 through Scandinavia.

Why by car when most travelers opt for a camper van, while others prefer the comfort of cruises? Well, because we don’t own a camper van, renting one is pricey, and then you’ve got to add fuel costs (those things guzzle gas!), ferry fees, and other "tolls." All things considered, we went for mostly rentals—especially since there were four of us at the start of the trip. We spent the first week in Denmark with our daughter and son-in-law. Then they flew back to Belgium, and we continued our adventure as a couple. For accommodation, we mainly booked Airbnb apartments, which helped keep costs down and, most importantly, let us prepare our own meals (diet, diet!). In this travel journal, you’ll discover (or rediscover, for those who followed my older ones) our unbridled love for theme parks, museums, unique experiences, and—especially in Denmark—Legos! Unfortunately, we didn’t do any hikes this year because the unpredictable weather had made the trails slippery, and since I’d already taken three tumbles during the trip, I didn’t want to risk another! In the end, we traveled for 32 days, covered 6,200 km, and most importantly, discovered the charming country of Denmark, marveled at Norway’s breathtaking fjords—all without suffering the heatwave that hit France and Belgium that June! If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

So happy the forum reopened last October!!! I’ve started reading again (posts, travel journals) and chiming in on a few discussions. Now I’m stepping it up by writing a new travel journal—I’ve already posted a few between 2018 and 2020.

My latest trip was to Italy from August 27 to September 26, 2024. As the title says, it was a wander through Tuscany in parts of the region that aren’t the most visited. No Firenze-Siena-Pisa trilogy, no San Gimignano; there’ll be a quick detour into Siena, but I’ll skip the best-known sights. That choice, plus traveling in September, should help dodge overtourism. It worked out—crowds were light, sometimes very light, the whole way. Here’s the practical rundown: - a long trip outside peak season (ah, retirees!) - solo camping (caravan) - a mix of activities (hiking, mountain biking, sightseeing) in places that aren’t always packed with tourists. Still, I don’t feel like I ended up in some hidden-away spots. Not sure if this will draw any readers.

DAY 1: Tuesday, August 27, 2024 The heat was intense on the drive in across the plain; two big storms—more rain and hail than lightning and thunder—threw the weather off, the first near Imola, the second on the four-lane road up the Savio valley. I left the Cesena-Roma four-lane at the Verghereto exit and climbed up to Balze (1,100 meters). The campsite is even higher (1,200 meters), in the forest near the source of the Tevere (Tiber). Staying up here will cut down on driving for the first part of the trip: a route through the Appennino (Apennines) on the border between Toscana and Emilia-Romagna. The temperature was surprisingly mild for the altitude, the air thick with moisture by late afternoon. I drove back down from the campsite to Balze (2 km on the road) to grab groceries (it’s doable) and scout tomorrow’s hike. .

The endpoint of the planned hike is just a few meters from this sign (the trail crosses this road about 3 km from Balze). I realized Balze and the source of the Tevere (Tiber) are actually in Emilia-Romagna, not Toscana. I always thought the Tevere (Tiber), which flows toward Roma (Tyrrhenian side), started in Toscana! I’ll come back to this quirk in Day 3’s write-up.

Wednesday, November 15, 2023 Flight Cairns – Sydney Okay, let’s recap. We’ve traveled through Western Australia, the Northern Territory, Queensland, and tonight we’ll be in New South Wales. We’ll even lose an extra hour—and a bunch of degrees! We’re on a flawless journey so far. One of our suitcases is almost two kilos overweight. The guy checking us in gives us a nice smile and decides to overlook the excess baggage fee.

A flight, for once, without a hitch, no delay (just half an hour…). Taxi… We discover our… room… We’ve got a suite like never before on this trip. It’s a posh apartment on the 7th floor—on cloud nine, really! We can’t believe it. 113.26 € per night! The Meriton Suites Mascot Central if you ever find yourself in this city… We even have a washing machine (and it works!). Such a change from the cabins in the west!



We don’t linger, though. We take the metro. Why? Well, yeah, we’re still kids at heart—off to the Opera House, of course!









Restaurant prices have doubled. Even tripled. We reluctantly settle for a pizzeria because that T-bone for 155 AUD (100 €)…

We know how to handle ourselves. There’s a Woolworths right downstairs. And we’ve got a kitchen, remember! And a terrace! We even have huge bats to brighten up our skies!

HIGHWAY 1

Highway 1 runs along the Pacific coast of California from Leggett in the north to Dana Point in the south. It's the longest state route in California, stretching 1,050 km.

It's famous for its breathtaking ocean views. That’s actually why it’s become such a popular route for road trips, with tons of attractions and points of interest all along the way.

After crossing the U.S. interior on our way out (see Road Trip USA 2023 - Part 1), we’re starting our return trip along this route from Leggett.

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Please click on the image to start the video. To jump to a specific post, here are the appropriate links:

CALIFORNIA:

Scenic Overlooks on Route 1 Between Leggett and Fort Bragg The Pudding Creek Trestle Bridge in Fort Bragg Glass Beach - Fort Bragg Jenner Lookout Point - Highway 1 Goat Rock Beach - Sonoma Coast State Park - Jenner Point Reyes National Seashore - White House Pool Trail Point Reyes National Seashore - Limantour Beach Point Reyes National Seashore - Point Reyes Shipwreck Point Reyes National Seashore - Kehoe Beach Trail Point Reyes National Seashore - McClures Beach Trail Point Reyes National Seashore - Cypress Tree Tunnel Point Reyes National Seashore - Point Reyes Beach North Point Reyes National Seashore - Elephant Seals on Drakes Beach Point Reyes National Seashore - Point Reyes Beach South Point Reyes National Seashore – Elephant Seals Overlooks Point Reyes National Seashore - Chimney Rock Trail Point Reyes National Seashore - Point Reyes Lighthouse Trail Point Reyes National Seashore – Tule Elk Observation Point Bonita Lighthouse Trail - Sausalito Hawk Hill - Sausalito Battery Spencer Trail - Sausalito Rodeo Beach - Sausalito Point Cavallo - Golden Gate View - Sausalito Exploring Downtown Sausalito Visiting Sausalito’s Houseboats Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge - San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge Viewpoints - San Francisco Cruise to Alcatraz Island - San Francisco Visiting Alcatraz Island - San Francisco Civic Center - Downtown San Francisco Market Street & Yerba Buena Gardens - Downtown San Francisco Union Square & Financial District - Downtown San Francisco Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39 & Embarcadero - San Francisco Sea Lion Observation - Pier 39 - San Francisco Lombard Street & Cable Car - Russian Hill - San Francisco Macondray Lane Historic District - Russian Hill - San Francisco Grace Cathedral & Huntington Park - Nob Hill - San Francisco Telegraph Hill - San Francisco Chinatown - San Francisco Alamo Square & Painted Ladies - Western Addition - San Francisco Palace of Fine Arts - Marina District - San Francisco Presidio of San Francisco California Coastal Trail - Lincoln Park - San Francisco California Palace of the Legion of Honor - Lincoln Park - San Francisco Sutro Baths - Lincoln Park - San Francisco Queen Wilhelmina Garden - Golden Gate Park - San Francisco Bison Paddock - Golden Gate Park - San Francisco Portals of the Past - Golden Gate Park - San Francisco Strawberry Hill - Golden Gate Park – San Francisco Prayerbook Cross & Robin Williams Meadow - Golden Gate Park - San Francisco Hidden Garden Steps & 16th Avenue Tiled Steps - San Francisco Grandview Park - San Francisco Hike - Twin Peaks Three Summits - San Francisco Longboarding Down Twin Peaks Blvd in San Francisco Haight-Ashbury - San Francisco Corona Heights Park - San Francisco Mission Dolores - San Francisco Mural Frescoes (Part 1) - Mission District - San Francisco Mural Frescoes (Part 2) - Mission District - San Francisco Devil's Slide Bunker - Pacifica Mavericks Beach - Half Moon Bay Martins Beach - Half Moon Bay Pigeon Point Lighthouse State Historic Park - Pescadero What to See in Santa Cruz Visiting Capitola What to See in Monterey Carmel-by-the-Sea Lovers Point Park - Pacific Grove Castle Rock, Hurricane Point & Little Sur River Viewpoints Pfeiffer Falls Trail Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park Vista Point & McWay Falls Highway 1 - Big Sur Viewpoints Salmon Creek Falls San Carpoforo Creek Trail Elephant Seal Vista Point - San Simeon San Simeon Pier Moonstone Beach Boardwalk Shipwreck - Estero Bluffs State Park Surfing Competition in Morro Bay Port San Luis Pier - San Luis Obispo Pismo Beach Monarch Butterfly Grove - Pismo State Beach Nojoqui Falls Park - Solvang Arroyo Hondo Vista Point Solvang, a Charming Danish Town in California Chumash Painted Cave - Santa Barbara Goleta San Marcos Rd & Cachuma Lake Vista Points - Santa Barbara Old Santa Barbara Mission Walking Tour of Santa Barbara’s Historic Downtown West Beach - Santa Barbara What to See in Ventura Paradise Falls - Wildwood Regional Park - Thousand Oaks Sandy Dune & El Matador State Beach - Malibu Point Dume Nature Reserve - Malibu Malibu Pier Road Trip in the Malibu Mountains Los Liones Trail - Santa Monica Santa Monica Pier Rodeo Drive - Beverly Hills Greystone Mansion - Beverly Hills Hollywood Walk of Fame - Los Angeles Griffith Observatory - Los Angeles Hollywood Forever Cemetery - Los Angeles What to See in Venice Beach Venice Beach Skatepark ShoreLine Aquatic Park - Long Beach Alamitos Beach - Long Beach Naples Island - Long Beach Crescent Bay Point Park & Helser Park Kiosk - Laguna Beach Shell Beach at Twin Points - Laguna Beach Prairie Dogs at Agra Vista Point Top Gun House & Oceanside Pier Annie's Canyon Trail - Solana Beach (Via North Rios Trailhead Loop) Old Town San Diego La Jolla Coastal Trail - San Diego Balboa Park - San Diego Pacific Beach - San Diego Mission Beach - San Diego Ocean Beach Tide Pools - San Diego Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - San Diego Tuna Harbor Park - San Diego Seaport Village & Embarcadero Marina Park - San Diego Gaslamp Quarter - Downtown San Diego Coronado Island - San Diego Dead Dolly Lane - Alpine Galleta Meadows Metal Sculptures - Borrego Springs What to See in Palm Springs Robolights - Palm Springs Andreas Canyon Trail - Indian Canyons - Palm Springs Palm Canyon Trail - Indian Canyons - Palm Springs West Fork Falls Trail - Indian Canyons - Palm Springs Tahquitz Canyon Loop Trail - Indian Canyons - Palm Springs Desert Christ Park - Yucca Valley Pioneertown Salvation Mountain - Niland Slab City - Niland

Preamble

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.

For once, given the destination, the author can’t set aside their religious beliefs, which inevitably shape this kind of journey.

The Trip

Early in the morning at Orly Airport, in the departure lounge for Tel Aviv, a group of about forty young men arrives, all looking identical! The same neatly trimmed beards, the same identical haircuts, the same outfits with a touch of whimsy… The effect of seeing these forty “clones” is striking and raises questions! Why such perfect uniformity among this group of guys? Do they belong to the same family, sports club, cultural association, or religious group? A mystery! At the same time, the waiting area fills up with men who are more expected, given our destination: they wear large felt hats and dress in black suits with white shirts—Hassidim? The ones I’ve glimpsed fleetingly in Paris or New York, who have always been a mystery to me. More discreet-looking women accompany them.

I’m already in Israel without even setting foot there! Plus, I witness the preparations for an improvised show.

The “clones” start a flash mob at seven in the morning in a Paris airport departure lounge! Some pull out musical instruments, others begin singing and dancing. A music with strange, unfamiliar sounds enchants the waiting passengers.

The flight crew finally arrives, cutting through the flash mob, bringing us back to the reality of the moment: waiting to take off soon for this so troubling and mysterious Middle East. We go through passport control, presenting our faces to the scanners that operate the exit gate. The group of “identical” young men gets held up by the system: logically, a scanner let the first one through but blocked the second because of his perfect resemblance to the first. To the machine, the same person shouldn’t be able to cross the border twice? But eventually, the whole group makes it through the glass doors, leaving the Republic behind. My simplistic explanation is left looking ridiculous.

At every new destination, I ask myself countless questions, revealing a certain anxiety tied to the unknown: fear of attacks (one just happened at a bus station in Jerusalem), possible police pressure, unexpected events. Israel isn’t known for being a relaxing destination. In reality, if I did face a serious difficulty in this country, it wasn’t one I had anticipated—and it wasn’t particularly tied to Israel!

I take my seat by the window, which is already occupied by a little girl. Her father, a Hassidic man, politely asks if I’d be willing to give up my seat for his daughter. I tell him I’d be happy to make her happy. Seeing me masked, he asks if I’d like him and his daughter to wear masks too. In response, I take off my mask so as not to impose any constraints on them and wish them a good flight.

It was the first time I’d approached and spoken to a Hassidic man. He didn’t speak the way I might have expected after watching *Rabbi Jacob* with Louis de Funès; he spoke perfectly without an accent, just like you and me! Beware of stereotypes! Throughout the flight, I sneak glances at my strange neighbor: he prayed silently without stopping for a minute. His daughter, as good as gold, never interrupted him. He used several religious accessories during his three-hour continuous prayer: a kippa, a prayer shawl, and a rosary?… I left that plane deeply impressed, me, who has a very distant relationship with my Creator and only prays now and then.

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?*

Introduction

In this travel journal, you’ll find a list of all the activities we did during our road trip through the Gaspésie.

Videos are embedded throughout the summary. Just click on the image to start the video.

To jump to a specific post, here are the relevant links:

Gaspé - Forillon National Park - Interpretation Center Gaspé - Forillon National Park - Mont-Saint-Alban Trail Gaspé - Forillon National Park - La Chute Trail Gaspé - Forillon National Park - Les Graves Trail Percé - Rivière-aux-Émeraudes Waterfall Percé - Bonaventure Island National Park Percé - Hike at the Foot of Percé Rock Percé Geopark - Suspended Glass Platform Percé Geopark - Magic Forest Loop Percé Geopark - Belvedere Trails Percé Geopark - Springs and Les Pieds Croches Trails Percé Geopark - Crevasse Trail Percé Geopark - Grande Coupe Trail Percé Geopark - Grotto Path Bonaventure - Le Malin de la Rivière Bonaventure Maria - Grand Sault Waterfall Carleton-sur-Mer - Les Saults Waterfall - Éperlan Trail Matapédia - Two Rivers Belvedere Saint-Alexis-de-Matapédia - Dream Horizon Belvedere Saint-André-de-Restigouche - Heart of the Plateaus Belvedere Saint-André-de-Restigouche - Picot Waterfalls Saint-Alexis-de-Matapédia - Robitaille Stream Waterfalls Trail Saint-Alexandre-des-Lacs - Philomène Waterfall Saint-Ulric - Ti-Mé Waterfall

Hello everyone!

We're off! After exploring the north, the four friends have now discovered the south. We’re excited to share this new travel journal, dedicated to our little group and our strong friendship, written by Richard and illustrated with Kate’s photos. I’ll chime in from time to time with practical tips.

First of all, a big thank you to everyone on VoyageForum who helped us plan this trip. It would’ve been quite different if we’d just relied on guidebooks.

The itinerary lasted just over 3 weeks: Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry, Thanjavur, the Chettinad region, Madurai, Munnar, Munroe Island, Cochin, and Chennai. We traveled by train, taxi, and private car with a driver, took a domestic flight, and stayed in guesthouses, Airbnb apartments, and hotels. For each of us, including flights, the total budget barely reached 2000 €, and we didn’t hold back—knowing we avoid resorts and love street food and small Indian restaurants.

Hi there,

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

Happy reading, and safe travels!

Since no travel journal has been posted about this destination since 2020, I’m giving it a go—maybe it’ll jog some memories for a few of you or give others a few ideas... even if, in the end, there isn’t much to tell 😎! Even though the itinerary was as classic as can be, it still led to a few brain knots: in what order? How many nights on each island? Rent a car or not? In short, plenty of existential questions to land on 4 nights per island, finishing with Mahé to avoid any nasty surprises before the return flight.

Saturday 03/22: Flight to Mahé with Qatar Airways (no—or rather, no more—direct flights from Paris 😕) A nice surprise at CDG with the discovery of a new lounge in Terminal 1

Then, an in-depth exploration of Doha Airport thanks to (or because of) a loooong layover:



And finally, arrival at the tiny Mahé airport where we step onto the tarmac feeling like we’ve walked into a steam room

Baggage claim is quick, the shuttle to the port is on time, the ferry is punctual (we, on the other hand, are *very* early for it ), and there’s Praslin in sight:



... with a sneak peek of the sea’s colors 🙂 Quick note on the photos: most were taken with a smartphone, and the colors are a bit more saturated than in real life (I did bring my hybrid camera, but in the end, I barely used it since it wasn’t very practical to lug around on the water or for snorkeling).

We pick up the car (a Grand i10 instead of a Picanto) from a muddy parking lot (it just rained) and off we go—of course, with a windshield wiper instead of the turn signal 😎, left-hand driving obliges. In just a few minutes, we arrive at our accommodation for these 4 nights on Praslin (Oh, and now the "lien" tab isn’t working! ) We’re blown away by the view from the terrace:



Then by the view from the little shared terrace on a promontory:

Before heading to test the water temperature on the other side of the road, at Anse Boudin, and spotting our first fish.

CORSICA From September 24, 2024 to October 9, 2024 Thank you, thank you, thank you for reactivating my favorite forum, which has given me so many ideas for my trips since... 2008—it’s been ages, as they say! So, to celebrate its return, I’m sharing this little travel journal from our latest road trip, not too long ago, since it was Corsica in the autumn. Autumn is the ideal season to visit Corsica: fewer tourists, perfect temperatures around 25°C, and, most importantly, less stress on the roads. You can feel it everywhere. Servers and shopkeepers are more relaxed and have time to chat (yes, Corsicans do talk... but not all of them!)

09/24 Arrival in Erbalunga Whether you're from northern France or Belgium, like us, the easiest way to reach the Isle of Beauty is by flying from Lille-Lesquin Airport. Volotea offers two destinations: Bastia and Ajaccio. Be careful, though—while the ticket prices are attractive, the airline makes up for it with baggage fees. A 25kg suitcase for 212 €—that really drives up the cost of transportation! For us, it’ll be Bastia. After this short flight and an arrival that lets you clearly see the east coast of Cap Corse, we’re welcomed by our friend Jean-Claude, who’s kindly hosting us for a few days. We met this Corsican and his wife during our four-year stay in French Guiana, and I have to say, he completely changed my opinion of Corsicans and even made me want to visit his island. The house, clinging to the rock above the sea, is stunning and offers a breathtaking view of the island of Elba. I’d always heard of Elba but must admit I wouldn’t have known where to place it before. We’ll stay here for five nights, long enough to explore the north of the island.



Since we’ve just arrived, Jean-Claude wants to show us his village, ERLALUNGA, a quiet little port, and the small village of CASTELLO above it, where he spent a lot of time in his childhood...

Hi there,

On this forum, I shared my first trip to Tunisia from mid-February to early March (https://voyageforum.com/forum/impressions-tunisiennes-en-direct-d11460662/), a stay I enjoyed so much that six weeks later, I’m back in Tunisia for a full 15 days (I return on April 27).

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.





TO BE CONTINUED....

Hi there,

I arrived in Tunisia this afternoon for a full 14-day stay.

I took a direct Tunisair flight from Nice, which departed about thirty minutes late (that’s nothing compared to the "nightmares" I’ve had on some of my recent trips).

The flight lasts around 1 hour and 20 minutes, and a small snack was served on board (a sort of quiche with chickpea purée, a small bread roll, a portion of cheese like La Vache qui rit, and a small chocolate cake). It’s worth mentioning because it’s becoming increasingly rare on short flights. I was seated between two Tunisian gentlemen who gave me some great tips for my trip, especially about negotiating prices. One of them is a former cameraman for France Télévisions, very cultured and well-traveled—his daughter is a journalist at France Télévisions (I found some of her articles online). In short, the flight was very pleasant and quick.



I’m staying at the Hôtel Royal Victoria. I booked it yesterday afternoon by email without providing my credit card number. The room costs 241 TND (71 €) with breakfast included. It has heating, a small fridge, a safe, a hairdryer, Wi-Fi, and a TV with international channels. There’s a police van permanently parked in the square where the hotel is located.

This hotel is housed in the former British consulate and later embassy. It has a lot of charm with its painted wood ceilings and doors, and its bathroom covered in ceramic tiles. The tiny elevator is from another era. The main advantage of the hotel is its location between the medina and Avenue Bourguiba. Nearby, there’s the Magasin Général, where you can find groceries and some typical products like rose water, geranium water, and tons of halwa (a customer kindly explained how to eat it and which is the best).

After nightfall, I took a short stroll down Avenue Bourguiba. There weren’t many people around—it’s windy and cold.

I’ve already noticed the warm welcome from Tunisians. The supermarket cashier welcomed me to Tunisia, and a gentleman I asked for directions to the Magasin Général (I was about to climb stairs leading to a mosque!) insisted on inviting me for coffee, but I declined.

The rest of my itinerary will depend on the weather. If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I might visit Carthage since the Bardo Museum is closed on Mondays, as are the museums in Sidi Bou Said.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Hey there, community! Back this weekend, below is my travel journal from my adventure in Indonesia. Enjoy the read!!!

Day 1 - August 10, 2025 New life downloading for three weeks! And for that, Flo and I launched a public tender... A public tender? What’s that got to do with a travel journal???... Well, when you think about it, few destinations tick all the boxes for an August adventure: Meaning, finding a place that’s exotic in the middle of August, not too expensive, not too packed with tourists, warm but not *too* warm, with postcard-perfect landscapes, dreamy beaches, tasty cuisine with a hint of exoticism, friendly and welcoming locals, where you’re free to sleep under the stars among the mosquitos, take transport surrounded by chickens, and even eat from a pig trough if you feel like it—well, turns out it’s not that easy to find! I’d even say, given how thick the list of requirements is, there’s a big risk the tender could be declared unsuccessful for failing to meet just one criterion. Let’s just say the candidates better submit a rock-solid proposal!

After reviewing all the responses and presentations from the candidates, the obvious choice for us is... Indonesia! Except that trying to explore a country as vast as Indonesia and its 17,504 islands in less than five years is a bit like reading the summary of a Proust novel without taking the time to savor each of its 950 pages! Don’t worry, I won’t name them all here. Besides, do they even all have names? No! Only 7,870 have been named—their parents clearly ran out of ideas for the rest. Anyway, our society, which worships the "work more to earn more" mantra, unfortunately limits our adventure time. So we’ll only get to see a small part of Indonesia, and we’ll have to make a tough choice to head for the best of the best in this archipelago of over seventeen thousand islands. Each one has its own selling points: Sumatra, Sulawesi, Java, the Celebes, Bali, Borneo, Papua, Timor, the Moluccas... So many names that smell of adventure... Another tender, another list of requirements, another review of proposals... Drumroll... Splash splash... And the lucky winner is... Ta-da... Java, Bali’s big sister, where I’ve already been eight years ago... Java the programming language. The Java of Broadway. We’re gonna *do* the Java. Java the coffee. And yes, Java is also an island!

This island, four times smaller than France, is home to 136 million people, making it the most populated island in the world! Fun fact: Indonesia, with its 260 million inhabitants, is just shy of the podium for the world’s most populated countries, after the winning trio of India, China, and the United States. And it’s on this island of Java that you’ll find Jakarta, the (soon-to-be-former) capital and main airport of the country, where we’ll soon land after our nineteen-hour flight! Yep, nineteen hours! I mean, Indonesia in general—and Java in particular—is a *tad* farther than going on vacation to Grandma Yoyo’s! Not sure where it is? Easy. Grab a map. Plant your finger on the big island at the bottom right—aka Australia for those who struggle with geography—move it up two centimeters, and bam, welcome to Indonesia!



Nice transition, right? Because "Welcome to Indonesia" is exactly what the friendly flight attendant just said to me as we got off the plane! That’s it, our chakras are open, we’ve arrived at our (air)port. Time for rest, pool, cocktails, and a beach with our toes spread out... Wait, if you bought that, you clearly don’t know us yet! Since we still have energy to burn and need to adjust to the flight and time difference, we tackle the long administrative formalities to enter Indonesia, just to earn the right to hop in a 45-minute Grab taxi to the train station. The train station? What train station?... What do you usually do at a train station? Take a train, of course! Off we go for a three-hour train ride to Bandung, where we’ll officially start our adventure tomorrow after our first Indonesian night...

Unfortunately, we were a bit slow off the mark, which meant we missed the 6:25 PM train by two minutes. Oh well, we’ll have to wait until 11 PM. We take the opportunity to stretch our legs in Jakarta, soak up the atmosphere, and enjoy the delicious smells wafting from the *warungs*—those little typical street restaurants. A quick stop at the National Monument, a detour to a night market to devour our first *kwetiaw goreng* and *teh manis* for 60,000 rupiahs (that’s 3 € for two), and just like that, our penalty is lifted, and we’re allowed to hit the road again. Off to Bandung, where we arrive at 2 AM for... a *very* short night...

Off on new adventures!!! For my wife’s 60th birthday, I’m really making her happy. While I usually pick warm, sunny destinations, she’s more tempted by places where you don’t suffer from the heat. So, it’s off to Norway!! A real challenge for me—a southern guy who’s as cold-sensitive as they come. I keep telling anyone who’ll listen (well, just myself, really) that these aren’t the countries for me, that rain will be our travel companion, that we’ll have to face polar bears, navigate between icebergs, that there are still Vikings around, and all sorts of other things. Of course, not wanting to make it easy, we’re driving from the Lyon area where we live. Friends who’ve visited the country told us it’s pretty expensive to eat out (among other things), so we’re bringing supplies—especially enough for apéritifs the whole trip!!! It’s not a camper van, but a "hotel-car" we’ll be doing! We’ll see how it goes! As usual, I’ll try to narrate the journey with my two-cent comments, plus some little tips to avoid our mistakes—assuming I don’t lose any fingers to the cold! Every night, I’ll count them to make sure I still have all ten! We’re not in *Ch’tis* territory but even farther Noooorth (as Galabru would say). Note that I’m traveling with a synovial effusion in my knee! The old man’s not in great shape!! Here we go!!

PS: As always, I’m a filmmaker, so I’ve made an effort with a few photos from my phone.

Hello everyone,

I’m not really a regular contributor to VoyageForum, but every time Kate and I travel, she encourages me to write a travel journal and publish it. And I must admit, it’s a very enjoyable intellectual exercise, though not always easy. As a VF contributor whose journals I’ve read once said, this retrospective work not only helps preserve memories but also provides a fruitful moment of introspection by bringing back emotions and feelings.

Kate and I spent a week in Istanbul. For her, who had already visited, it was a return; for me, it was a discovery.

As we’ve now made a habit of, I write the texts, and she posts her photos. We hope this illustrated story, crafted together, will revive beautiful sensations for those who know the city and inspire others to discover it. Here we go!

This one-month trip, from January 18 to February 17, 2026, allowed us to visit Mexico City and travel through the states of Puebla, Oaxaca, and Chiapas. We mainly used buses (ADO company) for medium and long distances and colectivos or taxis (or Uber) for shorter trips. Before leaving, I had contacted several people on the ground: Harry, a Vendéan settled in Oaxaca offering, among other things, discoveries of artisan villages or the Monte Albán site, and Oscar in Comitán de Domínguez. I’ll come back to our meeting with Oscar, who runs a local agency (CVL Travel Turismo Alternativo & Corre la voz) and owns a very pleasant hostel, a real highlight of our trip. Our journey took place in 8 stages on a loop starting from Mexico City. The connections between each were made by day or night buses depending on the trip duration. I had booked our seats in advance, either directly on the ADO company’s website or through booking platforms depending on the rates offered. Note that by planning ahead, I was able to benefit from very interesting "Early Booking" rates. There are several comfort classes. For all our trips, I had booked seats in Primera class buses, except for two in GL (Grand Luxe) class. The rates are very reasonable, and the buses turned out to be comfortable or even very comfortable (only the basic seat recline might surprise you).

Our itinerary and number of days per stage: Stage 1 – Mexico City: 4 days Stage 2 – Puebla: 2 days Stage 3 – Oaxaca: 4 days Stage 4 – San Agustinillo: 4 days Stage 5 – San Cristóbal de las Casas: 3 days Stage 6 – Comitán de Domínguez: 6 days Stage 7 – Palenque: 4 days Stage 8 – Mexico City: 2 days If I were to do it again, I’d remove one day from Palenque and add it either to Puebla or San Cristóbal to visit nearby sites or villages, or to San Agustinillo to enjoy one more day by the Pacific Ocean.

Stage 1: Mexico City (2,200 m / 9.2 million inhabitants) We arrived in the Mexican capital around 10:00 PM. The simplified customs process was very quick. After exchanging some money at the airport, we took a taxi to our youth hostel. We got around the capital on foot, of course, but also by metro. Signs are very rare, and we took the train in the wrong direction several times. After a few mistakes, we systematically asked on the platform if we were going the right way. The metro is very affordable. You need to get a rechargeable card (the Tarjeta de Movilidad Integrada) and top it up as needed. This card (less than 1 €) isn’t personal, so there’s no need to get one per person.

Mexico City: Day 1.



Visits and walks of the day (note: many museums are closed on Mondays): The Zócalo or Constitution Square: it’s one of the most beautiful, largest (195m x 240m), and oldest squares in the world. This is where Cortés decided to build the center of the new Spanish city on the site of the former Tenochtitlan market. Stones from the pyramids were used to pave the esplanade and build the surrounding colonial churches and buildings. During our visit, the huge square was covered with (resin) cacti, the theme of the temporary exhibition at the time. Indeed, temporary events or exhibitions take place here throughout the year. It’s also the endpoint for many protest marches.











The cathedral: it’s sinking by one centimeter per year despite massive stabilization work (the collapse of many Mexican buildings—30 cm/year—is due to groundwater pumping). It was built starting in 1571 and completed in... 1813. The modest remains of the Templo Mayor (exterior view): they have high symbolic value, as this monument was the most important in the Mexica Empire.

We then walked through the streets of the historic center to the Santísima Church, unfortunately closed for renovation work. Next, we took the metro to visit one of Mexico’s most important pilgrimage sites: the Insigne y Nacional Basílicas de Santa María de Guadalupe, as well as the Capilla del Cerrito on the hill. The first, dating from the colonial era, is really leaning a lot.



The second, shaped like a rotunda, is very impressive from the inside.



In the basement, there’s a sacred tunic where, in 1531, an image of the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared. A real mystery for scientists, the garment has never deteriorated since that date. Slow-moving conveyor belts allow pilgrims to admire it, preventing crowds from gathering in front of the image for hours. Well thought out!

From the top of the Capilla del Cerrito, you get beautiful views of huge Mexico City.

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.

Hello fellow travelers!

I’m adding my small contribution to the reopening celebration by posting this travel journal from India, made in January 2024. We’re 4 friends (2 couples), and we did a 3-week loop in Rajasthan, stopping by Delhi and Agra (which, as everyone knows, aren’t in Rajasthan 😛). Delhi - Agra - Jaipur - Bundi - Udaipur - Jodhpur - Jaisalmer - Delhi

We rented a car with a driver from Agra to Jaisalmer, 550 € for 14 days. https://chauffeurpriveeninde.com/fr/

We took the train from Delhi to Agra and the plane (Spicejet) from Jaisalmer to Delhi.

Most of the accommodations were booked on Booking before we left.

I’m sharing this story written by Richard and illustrated by me. We dedicate it to Nathalie and Bruno, our amazing travel companions.