Hi Guillaume,
Yeah, I didn’t have that app either. I’m not always consistent with my prep—sometimes I’m thorough, other times not so much.
At Watchman Campground, the site I reserved was in the "Walk-in tent sites" section (car parked 30 or 40 meters away). I had no trouble setting up the tent when I arrived (it wasn’t raining), so I slept in it. The ground was pretty absorbent, so it didn’t get wet.
I’m not sure if sleeping in your car is officially allowed... some people did it that night.
You can’t enter the campground without a reservation. But if you *do* have a site and don’t set up your tent for some reason (rain, early departure, etc.) and sleep in your car instead, I doubt anyone would say anything.
Day 16: Tuesday, May 28 (Zion National Park - Panaca )Route.
I planned to hike the "White Domes" above Hildale. If it wasn’t raining when I woke up, it had rained part of the night, and the forecast was bad for the day. I decided to check it out anyway; the rain started again before I left, but it stopped on the way down to "La Verkin." I took Route 59 toward Arizona—it climbs to leave the "Virgin River" valley and reach a plateau. Once on the plateau, I saw showers in the distance ahead. When I arrived in Hildale (it had started raining again), I followed the directions I had: "Utah Avenue," then "Water Canyon Road."
I headed down that trail—it was very muddy (hard to walk on), the hike was long (about 8 hours), and I’d have to cross "Squirrel Creek" early in the hike (was it even possible?). With the rain, I reluctantly gave up before reaching the "Squirrel Canyon Trail" parking lot.
So, I improvised for the day. I went back toward "La Verkin" on Route 59, and the rain stopped. Just before descending into "La Verkin," I got a view of the mountains north of the "Virgin River."
In "La Verkin," there’s a small municipal park near the confluence of the "Virgin River" and "La Verkin Creek" called "Confluence Park." I checked it out, but the spot wasn’t interesting (no great view of the confluence).
Since I was improvising, I decided to visit the northwest part of "Zion NP," called "Kolob Canyons." I stopped at the "Visitor Center," took the "Kolob Canyons Road" (a dead-end road), and drove all the way to "Kolob Canyons Viewpoint." This part of the park is at a higher elevation, so it was pretty chilly.
The "Timber Creel Overlook Trail" follows a ridge to a viewpoint (the trail was muddy but doable—logs and drier edges helped). Along the last stretch of the road and the entire trail, I enjoyed views of "Zion NP" to the east. There was an overview of the area with a narrow canyon in the center (this type of canyon is called a "finger canyon").
The main wall of the formation above.
Another section with a spire (the first rock in the photo).
Here it is from another angle (it’s not vertical).
Another area of "Kolob Canyons."
A unique feature in "Zion NP": water and wind carried particles (dirt or other materials) into a completely mineral area. Vegetation took root, and over millennia, a "hanging garden" formed in an unlikely spot. I only saw this one, but apparently, there are others in the park.
On the way back, I stopped several times near where the road crosses "South Fork Taylor Creek"—another "finger canyon."
The sky cleared, and a little farther down the road, I set off on the "Taylor Creek Trail (middle fork)" hike, knowing I’d only have time for part of it. The trail descends near the creek and follows it upstream, with many stream crossings. Normally, it’s probably just a trickle of water, but today, I had to hop from rock to rock to cross. The trail was nice, and you could tell it would lead into a canyon—another "finger canyon," according to the info.
I didn’t go all the way to the canyon section and turned back at "Larson Cabin." The sky clouded over again.
I got back in the car and left the park a few minutes later. I took Interstate 15 toward "Cedar City" and, before reaching the city, saw a downpour hit the "Kolob Canyons" area behind me.
All that was left was to head to Panaca (Route 56 in Utah, then Route 319 in Nevada). The whole drive had HEAVY showers—sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, sometimes right overhead... a lot of rain. Between Panaca and the intersection with US 93 (about 2 flat km), the cattle in the fields were wading through what was basically one giant puddle.
The campsites at "Cathedral Gorge State Park" (4 km from Panaca) were pretty well placed and/or designed (except the ones near the entrance, which were unusable). I found a spot where I could pitch my tent in decent conditions, maybe because there were very few other campers (it had stopped raining by the end of the day).
Day 17: Wednesday, May 29 (Cathedral Gorge State Park - Lincoln County: Pioche area)Route.
The "Visitor Center" is at the park entrance, and I get the impression the hostess is really bored waiting for hypothetical visitors. We chat, and she explains the documentation she gave me about the park and the region (Lincoln County).
A beautiful day is ahead; I head back into the park, skip a spot I’ll check out later, and park in the area that gave the park its name: "Cathedral Caves." The park’s geological history (which I can’t fully explain) involves volcanoes, earthquakes, water with a lake that experienced level changes, and erosion.
Walking on the sand (I think it’s sand), I enter very narrow mini-canyons that sometimes end in caves. The temperature in these canyons is always noticeably cooler than "outside."
From the parking lot, a hike of just over 3 km round trip, the "Miller Point Trail," starts. In a different landscape, the trail, equipped with stairs to protect the terrain, climbs up to a plateau at "Miller Point" (with a kiosk and viewpoint).
From "Miller Point," I overlook the landscape through which the trail is carved.
By adjusting the framing of the photos (excluding external elements like the sky or ground), you get a view that removes the sense of scale and feels more abstract.
On my way back to the park entrance, I stop at the spot I’d skipped earlier: "Moon Caves."
I find the same type of canyons as in "Cathedral Caves."
Leaving the park, I head north (US-93). Another entrance, 3 or 4 km further, leads to "Miller Point" via the plateau. It also provides access to a short hike, the "Eagle Point Trail," offering a panoramic view of the park.
On the left, the "Cathedral Caves" parking lot; on the right, the campground (trees).
End of the visit to Cathedral Gorge State Park, a Nevada state park.
Your amazing photos of Cathedral Gorge are making me even more excited to visit this place.
Some parts of the park remind me of the rock formations I saw in Valle de la Luna, in San Pedro de Atacama. So cool!!
Why go from Yant Flat to Zion and then backtrack to Cathedral Gorge? Was that because of the weather?
Michel, your photos of Cathedral Gorge are gorgeous! The fact that this park is so under-visited gives it extra appeal.
So, if it also looks like Chile, it’s the jackpot! 😲😇...!!
Great memories of Cathedral Gorge State Park where crowds aren’t around.
That’s good—it’s exactly what we’re looking for! !😉
But really disappointed with the lodging and dining options in that area
I’ll make a note about the lack of dining options (we’ll probably stuff ourselves before or after in St. George, so it should be fine !😄). As for lodging, it’ll be one of our camping nights on the next trip, so I hope the weather’s nice!
Good evening Diamina, Peggy, Gilles, and Guillaume,
actually, I had included this park and the Pioche area in my plans (I’d heard about the park, including from one of Gilles’ travel journals, I think).
The route doesn’t depend on the weather but on the fact that Zion NP was the easternmost point of my trip. Now, I’m crossing Nevada toward the northwest, heading to the Carson City–Lake Tahoe area. The park was kind of on my way, and the route was also planned to pass near it.
I leave "Cathedral Gorge State Park" and take US-93 north.
A little further on, a left turn leads to Pioche (pronounced "pie-ohsh"), and I arrive in this town named after François Pioche (I pronounce it the French way): he was a French financier and businessman who settled in San Francisco. He invested in mining in the late 1860s, and the town immediately boomed, reaching 10,000 residents within a few years.
"Treasure Hill," the hill overlooking the town, was the birthplace of mining (you can see the slag on the hillside).
I enter town from the top, near the upper station of the tramway. It dates back to the 1920s and was used to transport ore from the hill down to the processing site below. It operated by gravity (with just a backup motor), with buckets full on the way down and empty on the way up.
The town isn’t a ghost town—it has about 900 residents and is the county seat (Lincoln County).
Main Street still has buildings from the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
There are no pedestrians or customers on the sidewalks; here’s the store across from the museum (it looks closed).
The museum on the other side of the street is open, as is the adjoining public library.
Visiting a local history museum is a must-do experience. The building housing the museum (an old store) was donated to the county by the store’s owner. The collections are the result of donations from residents—one person donated their grandparents’ dining room, another a photo album, and so on. Many items feel more like a garage sale than a museum, and the display is a bit of a jumble (they want to show everything).
You’ll find some surprises.
Here, reality inspired fiction—though maybe the locals don’t know it.
As for the "Dalton Gang," did they operate nearby? Was this poster found in a neighboring county or state? I don’t know.
In the 1870s, Pioche was known for its violence. Legend has it that 75 people were buried in the cemetery after violent deaths before the streak was broken by a natural death. Quite a record!
Here’s the old "Lincoln County Courthouse," built in 1871. It’s open for visits. I go inside, and when I reach the second floor, I wake up the guard, who’s fast asleep in a chair at a table, slumped over with his head in his arms.
This building has two quirks:
- The street-facing side is the courthouse, but if you go to the back (toward the hill), you’re in the jail. In other words, it was just a few meters from the courtroom to the prison.
- The original 1871 plan was supposed to cost $26,400 ($16,400 for the courthouse and $10,000 for the jail). Due to changes, cost overruns, bribes, and loans to cover insolvency, the final cost approached $1,000,000 by the time it was fully paid off in 1937. Today, it’s called "The Million Dollar Courthouse." Construction projects exceeding their budgets happen everywhere, in every era.
"The Thompson's Opera House," built in 1873 from wood, has been fully restored. Over its history, it’s served as a theater, movie house, and dance hall, among other things.
I almost never photograph hotels, but by chance (well, not really—these two hotels are on Pioche’s list of historic buildings), I’ve got two in my Pioche photos (Gilles and Peggy mentioned accommodations).
"The Overland Hotel and Saloon," built around 1940, has served as a store and dance hall but is now an open hotel.
"The Mountain View Hotel" is much older and "historic"—President Herbert Hoover (if I remember correctly) stayed here during his term (1929–1933). It’s been closed for a long time.
Rise and fall.
I leave Pioche via Route 322, and 8 km later, I turn right onto the road leading to "Echo Canyon State Park." This road arrives downstream from the dam, built for irrigation on "Meadow Valley Wash" at the exit of "Echo Canyon." Most of the water flowing here disappears into the wash, which heads south for 200 km before reaching "Lake Mead," though apparently, some water occasionally makes it to the lake.
There are some lush green areas downstream from the dam—alfalfa fields. The park isn’t spectacular but seems geared toward fishing in the reservoir. The water level is higher than usual, reaching the benches near the picnic tables on the shore.
I go for the "Ash Canyon Trail" hike. The trail climbs above the reservoir.
It then follows "Ash Canyon."
At one point, I stop to look ahead and see where the trail goes, then turn around to check the path I’ve taken over the last 200 meters. It takes me a good 30 seconds. When I turn back around, I see this animal on a rock shaped like a small wall.
I’m amazed by this lizard’s camouflage (it looks like a lizard to me). I stand there for a full minute, take off my backpack, pull out my camera from a side pocket, and snap the photo.
I stay a while longer before moving on (I was there for nearly 5 minutes total). I got as close as about 50 centimeters but didn’t try to touch it. The lizard stayed completely still.
If anyone has any zoology knowledge, could you:
1- Identify this animal
2- Tell me if its appearance changes based on location (camouflage) or not. This one has red bands around its body (not exactly stealthy), yet it blends right into the rock it’s on.
3- Let me know if the behavior I saw (total stillness when someone’s nearby) is typical when you’re not trying to catch it.
I leave the park heading north toward "Ursine" (the name on my maps), but when I get close, the sign says "Eagle Valley"???
A few kilometers north, there’s another park, "Spring Valley State Park," but the road leading to it is closed (flooded).
Back to "Cathedral Gorge State Park."
Day 18: Thursday, May 30 (Cathedral Gorge State Park - Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park)
Route
I set off under the sun for Caliente, a nearby small town (around 900 inhabitants). The standout building is the "Union Pacific Railroad Station" (1923), which I photograph from the other side of the tracks. Today, it serves as the town hall, library, and museum.
A few kilometers away, I visit "Kershaw-Ryan State Park," located in a small canyon that feels like an oasis—much greener and wooded than the surrounding landscape.
Next, I head toward Tonopah via US-93, then Route 375, and finally US-6. Just after the first small pass of the day (crossing a well-defined range of hills), I think I see the road continuing.
Mistake: it’s a track heading in a different direction toward the next line of hills. The good weather doesn’t last, and the rest of the day follows a repeating cycle: sun, clouds, then a good downpour.
These two photos give a pretty good idea of the landscape and weather until I reach Tonopah.
Tonopah on its hill... I don’t visit the mining museum (I’ve read it has a good reputation) because I want to check out the "Crescent Dunes" dune field. I leave Tonopah via US-95, and after 8 km, I turn right onto "Pole Line Road." Fifteen kilometers later, a track on the right leads to the dunes, but the ruts (after recent rains) are so deep that I have to stop. Here’s a photo of "Crescent Dunes" taken about 2 km from the site.
Just to the north (a few hundred meters for the closest part) is the "Crescent Dunes Solar Energy Project," designed to produce electricity from solar power (maximum capacity of 110 megawatts). Over 10,000 mirrors track the sun (heliostats) and reflect solar radiation toward a central tower. The electricity is generated at high temperatures (I’m not sure by what process), and there’s an energy storage system using a phase-change material (a salt that changes state at high temperatures).
Here’s the tower as seen from the track leading to "Crescent Dunes."
This project started producing electricity in 2015 but stopped in April 2019. It was a failure that swallowed up huge sums of money. I don’t know what’s become of the facilities now.
I head back to "Pole Line Road." From there, continuing northwest, the road turns into a track leading to Gabbs. It’s much shorter, but it’s a dirt road, and given the weather of the past few days, I’m not sure what to expect. So I choose the longer route (on pavement). I return near Tonopah to take US-95 (Veterans Memorial Highway) west.
Coaldale appears on maps, but there’s nothing left alive there: an abandoned gas station and bar, plus some gutted concrete blocks (or lighter material) nearby. That’s it.
Just after, when US-95 turns north, look carefully to the southwest. The horizon is dominated by the "Boundary Peak" range (4,003 meters, the highest point in Nevada and the California border), which is impressive.
Sixty kilometers after Coaldale, I turn right onto Route 361 toward Gabbs.
Just past Gabbs, a road turns right (east). It crosses a range of hills, then descends into "Ione Valley." In the distance, the "Shoshone Mountains" and "Toiyabe Range" are completely snow-covered (summits around 3,500 meters). The road turns into a track and arrives at Berlin. I drive through the "Ghost Town," then 2 km later, head into "Union Canyon." A fork leads to the campsite. It’s chilly at 2,100 meters, and just before nightfall, it starts raining.
This was the day I covered the most kilometers. I crossed part of Nevada, which really shows how empty most of the state is—Tonopah barely reaches 2,500 inhabitants, and Gabbs, about 30 km from here, has just 250 residents.
I followed your Nevada section with particular interest and was waiting for you to reach Tonopah to chime in...
Pioche... Tonopah... Now *that’s* off the beaten path, and in my opinion, it’s a fantastic way to understand the real Nevada—the state that remains the metal-mining capital of the United States, producing around 80% of America’s 250–260 tons of gold, which keeps the country fluctuating between third and fourth place globally. The Pioche district itself is primarily silver. Nevada alone would rank the U.S. fourth in global production.
Yet Nevada is the Silver State, while California is the Golden State... but that’s the legacy of a tumultuous and divergent past!
I thoroughly enjoyed exploring this Western state in a past life—maybe more than others—where traces, sometimes scars, of old mining operations are scattered everywhere. They’re a stronger testament than anywhere else that cattle ranching and mining were(indeed)instrumental in the nineteenth century in getting people to settle here.
Pioche is a pretty typical case...
It emerged during the wave of major discoveries in the Sierra Nevada, sparked by California’s 1849 Gold Rush, followed by Nevada’s 1859 Silver Rush. A flurry of new finds turned Nevada into the Silver State, as prospectors and their burros spread east from the Sierra Nevada and, to a lesser extent, west from Utah.
To understand, here’s a bit of iconography:
All of Nevada is structured around the Basin and Range geological province...
An alternating pattern of mountain ranges (*range*) and flat depressions (*basin*), which hold cultivated valleys and dried-up salt lakes—usually barren and strangely called *playas* in Spanish. For prospectors, playas were useless; they had to cross them as quickly as possible. The sun beat down hard, there was nothing to drink, and you could dehydrate (Hollywood imagery!). Today, it’s a bit different because these playas can contain lithium, which is increasingly useful as demand for electric car batteries grows.
You can really see this alternation when driving east to west!
The interactive map—red dots for “mining towns,” black dots for “mines”—
Mines page
sums up Nevada’s mining history from the 19th to early 20th century.
Here’s a screenshot:
Lured by the ease of exploiting early Sierra discoveries in 1859—basically, mining Horn Silver, all you needed was a pick, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow (roughly speaking)—prospectors methodically explored every *range*, one after another. When a search paid off, a town replaced the canvas camps and hillside shacks, settling at the foot of the *range* for an uncertain duration. Most became ghost towns, but Pioche survived, and its location at the base of the hills reflects its origins.
“Pioche silver, known to the Paiute Indians for a long time” (a pronunciation exercise, by the way!), was revealed to a Mormon who brought the discovery to the modern world around 1864. Production began in 1869.
In the meantime, François Pioche entered the picture...
He’s one of those fascinating figures the 1849 Gold Rush produced.
Drawn to San Francisco like many adventurers, he wasn’t one of those who broke their backs in the Sierra chasing an uncertain fortune. At the start of the saga, in San Francisco, almost everything was still paid for in gold, and everything cost a small fortune—food, lodging, equipment, etc. So early on, he was among those who chose “to mine the miners rather than the hills”—taking gold straight from the miners’ pockets. It was less risky and... more comfortable!
And that’s how lasting fortunes were built...
That’s how John Studebaker started making wheelbarrows (an essential tool for miners) before founding his car company.
That’s how Levi Straussnever managed to sell his stock of wagon canvas from the East and came up with the idea of turning it into blue jeans. The miners themselves had given him the idea—they were unhappy with how quickly their pants wore out in the Sierra’s harsh conditions and had tried using Levi’s canvas. Turns out, Levi Strauss’s jeans were incredibly durable!
François Pioche set himself up as a wine merchant, importing French wines around Cape Horn and selling them... for a fortune, of course! He later became a banker with an English partner, and their bank ranked among California’s top institutions for at least two decades.
He then returned to Paris, where he raised several million francs, allowing him to move up a level and invest in railroads and mining—like in the new Pioche district.
It was... WHEN CALIFORNIA WAS FRENCH.
...
P.S. Incidentally, about the pronunciation—have you really heard locals say it the way you mentioned?
If the syllable “pi” (like the Greek letter, 3.14116) is pronounced “pie” as in “pie,” locals, as far as I remember, pronounce the pi in Pioche roughly like we do—that is, “pee” in English phonetics. So the full name doesn’t sound all that different from how we say it.
About the Western banded gecko:
Its Latin name, Coleonyx variegatus, is more telling.
That said, I think some geckos can rapidly change their colors or shift hues with age, but it seems to me that the Western banded gecko’s colors mostly result from permanent adaptation to their environment—like certain rattlesnakes, which are their predators.
Especially this one, which thrives in rocky environments!
A Rattlesnake Rattles Loudly. Stock Videos (100 ...
Or this one, which lives in the El Dorado Mountains near Las Vegas on volcanic rocks (Xavier Glaudas):
Suite des "Rencontres insolites avec des grizzlys, chercheurs d'or et autres dans l'Ouest Américain" (26 février 2009)
Hi Jean-Paul,
Thanks for your fascinating talk on mining towns and the clever folks who sniffed out the real motherlode!
From now on, I’ll always try to locate a ghost town on a topographic or satellite layer in Maps or GEarth to check if the "Basin & Range structure" holds up.
Hi Jean-Paul,
thanks for your post.
My first thought is about the "basin and range" structure you mentioned and described perfectly with the diagram—I didn’t know the name for this structure.
The Caliente-Tonopah route is the perfect example of it: a succession of "basins" and "ranges" over about 300 km. In the end, my three photos really illustrate what you’re explaining.
Good evening Jean-Paul,
regarding the pronunciation of Pioche, I heard the name pronounced twice by locals.
1 - by the hostess at the "Visitor Center" of "Cathedral Gorge State Park." I asked her: how do you pronounce Pioche? In her answer, I heard "paille," which means "pie" in English.
I replied: Ah! Like "apple pie" (English). Back home, the word "pioche" exists and refers to a tool.
She then told me: but this name is French, and she mentioned François Pioche.
2 - at the museum exit by someone who arrived while I was visiting (likely a member of the local historical society).
Your comment makes me try to remember: I think she pronounced it "pee-oach."
I just checked the town’s website, which says to pronounce it "pee-oach."
I wrote this thinking about my conversation with the Visitor Center hostess; I gave the wrong pronunciation: either she mispronounced it, or I misheard and she didn’t correct me afterward.
Day 19: Friday, May 31 (Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park - Washoe Lake State Park near Carson City)
Route
The rain didn’t last long during the night, but the temperature dropped to 5°C and it’s still very chilly this morning.
In Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park, there’s Berlin and there’s Ichthyosaur.
Ichthyosaur: A marine reptile that lived 225 million years ago.
Fossils of this species were found in "Union Canyon." The "Fossil House," a large building that protects the site from the elements and visitors, was constructed. The walls have windows through which you can look, but there’s nothing interesting to see. You have to rely on guided tours to enter the shelter. The scheduled tour starts in the middle of the morning, but I skip it (bummer) because it would mean leaving after noon.
Berlin: A "Ghost Town" on the site of a silver mine.
As part of a state park, this town is protected under a method called "Arrested Decay." The buildings are left as they are, and interventions are only meant to prevent further deterioration, not to improve the ruins. Is there a term for this method in French?
The first prospecting efforts (Union Canyon, Ione, Grantsville) date back to the 1860s. The Berlin mine itself became fully operational in 1895 and continued until 1907 before declining rapidly.
Notable features:
- The town never had more than 200 to 250 residents.
- There was no saloon in Berlin. The "Nevada Company" owned the only store, where prices were high and alcohol wasn’t sold. That’s why many miners went to Ione for supplies.
- There was a school in "Union Canyon."
I take the walk called "Berlin Town Site Loop."
The entrance to the mine. The "Berlin mine" and the nearby "Diana mine" together have several kilometers of tunnels.
A general view of the "residential" area.
The mill (ore-crushing plant).
For these last two photos, I’m on the lower slopes of the "Shoshone Mountains" (range). In front of me is "Ione Valley" (basin), and in the distance, I can see the "Paradise Range" (range). Gabbs is just behind that ridge.
I’ve added scientific details to my photos thanks to Cochize.
I’ll head back in that direction almost to Gabbs.
Highway 361 takes me to Middlegate, where I turn left onto US-50 toward Fallon. I still have two more ridges (ranges) to cross before reaching a much flatter area.
Before entering this region, there’s the "Sand Dunes Recreation Area," where a set of sand dunes serves as a playground for off-road vehicle drivers.
The vast, flat expanse of the "Carson Desert."
The Great Basin
Except for a southern region drained by the "Colorado River" and a northeastern region drained by the "Snake River," the state of Nevada is part of the "Great Basin." Water here doesn’t flow to the ocean but instead collects in low points, often forming lakes (permanent, temporary, or even dried up).
The most important rivers are those flowing down from the "Sierra Nevada" (to the west) and heading east.
The "Carson River" is one of these major rivers. It flows into "Carson Sink," part of this expanse, northeast of Fallon.
A few kilometers before Fallon, the "Grimes Point Archaeological Area" is a site managed by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management). In the publicly accessible part of the archaeological site, a short walk (500 meters to a kilometer) is set up.
I pass by basalt boulders covered in a black patina, which serve as the canvas for petroglyphs.
Some petroglyphs are cupules: hemispheres or partial spheres carved into the rock, intentionally created by humans using percussion techniques.
The other petroglyphs are more "classic," with symbolic and/or magical meanings. On this site, all were created by removing material from the basalt boulders.
The last photo (a close-up of a design) clearly shows the material removal.
I drive through Fallon and continue to Carson City. I head toward Reno, go up a few kilometers, then turn right (Highway 428, which loops around "Washoe Lake" to the east). The "State Park" with its campground (50 sites split into two loops of 25) isn’t far. One loop is under construction, reducing capacity to 25 sites. Rangers direct the few extra people (2 to 4 setups each night) to a "horse camping" area located 100 meters from the open loop—a campground meant for visitors bringing their horses for trail riding.
I’ll stay here for several nights. The shores of "Washoe Lake" are known for being windy, but that won’t be an issue during my stay.
I head back into Carson City for a walk and some errands.
Today, like the following days, I’m staying based at "Washoe Lake State Park" and exploring the area.
A bit of demographics
Nevada’s population: 2.8 million in 2013 (estimated at 3 million today).
Breakdown: Las Vegas-Henderson area 72%, Carson City-Reno-Sparks-Fernley area 20–21% (with 2% for Carson City).
The rest of the state: 7–8%.
This situation is unusual enough to be worth noting.
One metro area, with nearly three-quarters of the population, that isn’t the capital, a settlement zone (at the foot of the Sierra Nevada) with 20% of the population, and the rest of the state almost empty.
A bit of history
The first permanent white settlement (Indigenous tribes have been here for millennia) at the foot of the Sierra Nevada dates back to 1851: Mormon Station (Genoa) in an ideal spot for agriculture. Dayton also claims a settlement around that time, linked to the discovery of gold.
Settlements continued through the 1850s, but the rush came in 1859 with the exploitation of the "Comstock Lode," the largest silver deposit ever discovered in the U.S. (there was also gold). A year later, there were about 10,000 miners on the "Comstock Lode."
At that time, there must have been a farm on the site of Las Vegas.
It was around this time that Nevada became a territory (1861) and then a state (1864). So it made sense for the political capital to be here, on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada: Carson City (probably one of the smallest state capitals, with about 50,000 residents).
I see a few public buildings.
Carson City Hall.
The "Paul Laxalt State Building" (1891). Today, it houses the state’s tourism office.
I’m visiting the "Nevada State Museum."
It’s housed in the old mint (the building in the background). It’s expanded, and the glass section connects several buildings.
Three things stood out during my visit:
1. A mammoth skeleton
2. A mine replica
3. A coin-striking machine and a collection of coins. Over $49 million in gold and silver coins were minted here between 1870 and 1893.
In the afternoon, I head toward Lake Tahoe. The road crosses the "Carson Range," the mountain chain east of the lake, and I stop at the pass. A hiking trail, the "Tahoe Rim Trail," passes through here—it circles the lake, staying on the surrounding peaks.
I’m doing part of the "Spooner Loop Trail," which goes around "Spooner Lake" (all part of "Spooner Lake State Park").
On the descent from the pass toward the lake, it doesn’t take long before the lake comes into view (I stop as soon as I can).
View toward the southwest (the California side).
I’m struck by the size of the lake, by the fact that it’s entirely surrounded by snow-capped peaks (snow appears just a few hundred meters above the lake’s level). The atmosphere is mild and even warm, with lots of light and sunshine. Distant clouds give an impression of storms in some areas.
I stop a little farther on to look at the Nevada shore.
View toward the north.
View toward the south ("Cave Rock").
The next stop is "Cave Rock State Park." Near the parking lot and boat launch, there’s a view of "Cave Rock," a volcanic rock formation dating back 3 million years.
This place is sacred to the Washoe people (the tribe that lives in the Lake Tahoe region). The construction of US-50, its widening, and the creation of a tunnel were points of conflict with them. A plaque has been installed with the following inscription: "Cave Rock is one of our famous sacred sites that reflects our traditional values of respect for the land and 'da ow' (Lake Tahoe), the water of life, the center of the Washoe world."
The southern part of the park is a pretty bay lined with fir trees and a small beach.
I go a little farther, to "Zephyr Cove," just a few kilometers from California.
Back to Carson City and "Washoe Lake State Park."
I head to Carson City, then head east on US50 (toward Fallon) to Silver Springs; the "ALT US95" road on the right leads to "Fort Churchill State Historic Park."
Stopping by the "Visitor Center" gives me an idea of the context in which this fort was built.
Thanks for this really interesting and detailed account that introduces us to states less traveled by tourists in a hurry. It's great that you're sharing this with us.
Day 22: Monday, June 3 (Carson City and Lake Tahoe)
Route.
I start by visiting the "Nevada State Capitol." The building was constructed in 1870-1871 in downtown Carson City. Remodeled several times, it no longer houses the House of Representatives and the Senate, which were moved to another building.
The Capitol today.
The Capitol in 1871 (model).
This model is located in "Battle Born Hall" (the former Senate chamber), where there’s an exhibit on Nevada’s history.
You’ll find a panel about the "Comstock Lode": the mine went down to 900 meters deep, the silver ore was very brittle, and a German-born engineer, Philip Deidesheimer, invented the "square-set timbering" technique.
A fun fact about jeans.
Another fun fact: in 1864 (for Nevada’s admission to the Union), the state’s constitution was telegraphed to President Abraham Lincoln. It’s said to be the longest text ever sent by telegraph. I read this on-site (maybe at the Capitol), but I haven’t found confirmation.
In the adjoining park, there’s a statue of Kit Carson, a figure of the American West. He was a trapper, a guide for John C. Frémont on the three expeditions he led in the West, and more...
Next, I head to the "Nevada State Railroad Museum." This railway museum features a collection of locomotives and train cars.
The locomotives, mostly in black, are displayed in a hangar. Taking photos is tricky (it’s too dark).
You can also follow the story of the first transcontinental railroad, illustrated on the floor.
The "Central Pacific Railroad" started in Sacramento (California) in October 1863.
The "Union Pacific Railroad" began in Omaha (Nebraska) in July 1865.
The "golden spike" was driven at "Promontory Summit" (Utah) in May 1869, completing the railroad across the continent.
I leave Carson City and head toward Lake Tahoe. After the pass (Spooner Summit), I turn right (Route 28) and stop almost immediately at "Spooner Lake State Park." I end up near the lake, opposite the side where I took a short hike the day before yesterday.
Route 28 gradually descends until it reaches the lakeshore at "Sand Harbor State Park." I park in the lot and walk around this spot with its headlands, coves, rocks, beaches, and an outdoor theater.
The sun is out, the temperature is high (just a slight drop during a light shower), and the water temperature is surprising for a lake at 1,900 meters elevation fed by snowmelt streams. It’s not warm, but it’s swimmable.
I head back onto Route 48 and drive to "Incline Village" (along the lakeshore).
If I remember correctly, the lake access points here (docks) are private.
I turn around, pass "Sand Harbor SP" again, and when the road rises above the lake, I park on the roadside (about ten spots on the shoulder). I take a short hike down to the lakeshore at "Chimney Beach."
In peak season, I think Route 28 has traffic restrictions. Near "Spooner Lake," vehicles are only allowed to descend toward the lake (Sand Harbor) if there are available spots in the park’s lot (roadside parking is strictly prohibited along the lakeshore).
There were no issues today, either in the lot or on the roadside, but the area must be packed in the middle of summer given these rules.
Hi,
I’m picking up this travel journal along with your Death Valley (DV) exploration—I only made a quick 24-hour stop there back in 2016. So this is vicarious sightseeing for me. One little note, if I may: I get the feeling you’re underexposing your photos. At least in DV, because it wasn’t as noticeable in Alabama Hills. Is that a deliberate choice?
Patrice
"Faut pas trop tenter le diable, cet enfoiré ne reste jamais très longtemps sans réagir..." Johnny Dakota (le vrai)
Thanks for this really interesting and detailed account that introduces us to states less visited by tourists in a hurry. It’s great that you’re sharing this with us.
Hi Brigitte,
thanks for the compliment.
Generally, I make sure to set aside time to explore places outside the heavily visited sites that almost always require a reservation. I always add a bit of improvisation to these parts of the trip (in choosing routes and places to visit, and how much time to spend in each spot).
On this trip, everything between "Zion NP" and "Yosemite NP" was done that way.
Day 23: Tuesday, June 4 (Reno - Squaw Valley - Lake Tahoe)
Route.
This morning, I head toward Reno, entering the city via Virginia Street, the classic road coming from the south (it’s not a freeway). I make my way to the automobile museum and park in the lot (easy to find on the right bank of the "Truckee River").
This museum is built around part of Bill Harrah’s collection, who made his fortune in hotel-casinos (as the owner, need I say). It took about ten years after his death to put together and open the museum. Three things stood out during my visit:
- The sheer number of car manufacturers in the early 20th century (very few made it past the 1920s–1930s). It’s the same story as in Europe, just with different brands.
- The "Franklin 1911" (4-cylinder, air-cooled). This car competed in fuel-efficiency races. In 1913, with one gallon (about 3.8 liters), it covered 83.5 miles. Americans used to organize these kinds of races! To put it in perspective: that’s 2.8 liters per 100 kilometers (at an average speed of around 15 mph).
- A custom build on a "Ford T 1921" called the "Kampkar" (6 seats, 4 beds, a 2-burner stove, an 8-gallon water tank): the ancestor of the RV. I couldn’t get a clearer photo because of the lighting.
After leaving the museum, I take a walk downtown.
The city’s motto on the "Old Reno Arch" (Lake Street).
Reno wants to be a mini Las Vegas: here’s "North Center Street" with Harrah’s hotel in the background.
Another downtown street.
I don’t spend much more time in downtown Reno. I do see the new "Reno Arch", though. I head back toward the banks of the "Truckee River" near "City Plaza."
The "Truckee River" comes from the Sierra Nevada; it flows out of Lake Tahoe, heads north, then east (entering Nevada) before emptying into "Pyramid Lake", a low point in the Great Basin.
It’s got a strong flow during snowmelt season.
On a plaza (right bank) stands a contemporary performing arts center, the "Pioneer Center for the Performing Arts."
So my view of Reno was limited: the car museum, the Truckee River banks, and a quick foray into downtown. There’s probably more to see.
Leaving Reno, I follow the "Truckee River" upstream to Truckee (California).
Population-wise, it’s a city, but it feels more like a long village stretched along the railroad tracks. Big parking lots are under construction at the east exit—the paving isn’t done yet, and the toll booths are already installed. The obsession with paid parking isn’t very welcoming, especially compared to Virginia City.
Is the village packed in summer? Maybe...
It was a major station on the transcontinental railroad, sitting at the foot of Donner Pass, where the line crosses the Sierra Nevada. I photograph the tracks, which feel symbolic of the village from my perspective.
I continue along the "Truckee River" with two goals: try a hike if possible, and check out "Squaw Valley."
I pass the "Squaw Valley" intersection and drive to the one leading to "Alpine Meadows." This resort, associated with (but not connected to) "Squaw Valley," is a day-use area with a big parking lot, ski lifts, but no on-site lodging (it’s clearly closed now).
I consider hiking the "Five Lakes Trail" in this little valley (Bear Creek), though I’m not optimistic due to the snow.
Starting point (halfway between the intersection and the resort).
Sure enough, shortly after starting, the ground is soggy (from melting snow), and it’s clear the trail will be snow-covered before reaching the 350-meter-high plateau. I don’t push it and head to "Squaw Valley" instead.
For my generation, the 1968 Grenoble Olympics marked skiing’s arrival in mainstream sports. I remember hearing that the skiers (and ski racers) of that era (Killy, etc.) had precursors, like Jean Vuarnet (inventor of the "egg position"), who won Olympic gold in 1960... at "Squaw Valley."
The intersection leading to "Squaw Valley."
The resort (it’s an integrated one).
The ski lift departure area.
The resort (closed on weekdays) announces it’ll reopen next weekend for the high-altitude terrain (skiing down to the resort won’t be possible anymore).
A little downstream, they’re already watering the summer golf course.
Back in the car, I drive to "Tahoe City" (California), take a short break by the lake, then follow the northern shore back into Nevada. I pass "Sand Harbor" and stop a little higher than I did two days ago (roadside or small parking lot—I don’t remember which).
I end the day with a short hike to the lake’s edge: "Creek Beach," I think.
Return to "Washoe Lake State Park."
I haven’t mentioned the weather since arriving in Carson City. It’s gradually improved (fewer showers) with rising temperatures each day—today was beautiful and hot.
Hi Patrice,
I looked up the settings on my photos to answer your question, since I’m neither skilled nor particularly attentive when it comes to the technical side of photography.
I use a basic point-and-shoot camera (Nikon Coolpix A300) on automatic mode for my shots—I don’t even know all its features. I rarely edit my photos (though I do sometimes) when selecting them while putting together a travel journal.
I have to hand it to you—after checking, I realized I’d tweaked the brightness setting by one notch during the day at Alabama Hills (it was really bright that day), which ended up underexposing the shots.
When you shoot in automatic mode, the setting stays locked at the adjusted value. I forgot to reset it afterward, so all the later photos were taken with that modified setting.
So there’s some underexposure from that change (I can’t explain it any better), but it definitely wasn’t intentional.
Hello and thank you!
It's always a pleasure to read and see others' journeys—it helps enrich our own travels and inspire new ideas.
So, I’m also planning an adventure in the American West this July with my 15-year-old daughter. Can’t wait… 😎
I have a quick question about Death Valley: what’s the closest parking spot or the name of the trail to take to find "The Wave" and "Pastel Canyon"? And how much time should we plan for this hike?
Thanks in advance for your reply.
Day 24: Wednesday, June 5 ("Washoe Lake State Park" near Carson City - Dyer)
Route.
Contrary to what’s shown on the map, I took Route 120 (direct, pencil line) from Lee Vining to Benton. I think the display is because it’s winter and this road is currently closed (so it’s not accepted as a route).
I start the day by heading back to the historic villa district in Carson City, where I’d passed through quickly when I arrived.
"Bliss Mansion": built in 1879, 15 rooms, all wood, constructed by a lumber operator.
"Governor's Mansion": built in 1909, the governor’s residence.
"Orion Clemens House": built in 1864, home of Mark Twain’s brother.
Next, I head toward Genoa via Route 206, to the "Mormon Station State Historic Park" (20 km south of Carson City).
This is the first permanent non-native settlement in Nevada. It was a place where pioneers on the "California Trail" could trade, restock (there was a mill nearby), and repair (blacksmith) before crossing the Sierra Nevada. It remained an important trading hub in this fertile region until the railroad was completed.
The park and the cabin.
The statue of "Snowshoe Thompson," a Sierra legend and the father of skiing in California.
Born in Norway’s Telemark region, "Jon Torsteinssen Rue," known as "Snowshoe Thompson," carried mail between Placerville (California) and Genoa (Nevada) in winter from 1856 to 1876 on skis he made himself (3 meters long, with a pole for propulsion). He reportedly made the California-Nevada trip in 3 days and only 2 days the other way. His story is told in the cabin (exhibit room, small museum).
Then I take US-395 (Minden, Gardnerville) to "Topaz Lake," which is shared by California and Nevada.
A little farther, the road follows the "Walker River" (West Fork) gorge. This river flows from the Sierra to Walker Lake in the Great Basin.
Before reaching Bridgeport, there’s a view of the Sierra Nevada.
After lunch in Bridgeport, I planned to visit "Chemung Mine," an abandoned gold mine that operated from 1909 to 1938. You follow the reservoir north (Route 182), then, when the reservoir narrows, turn right onto a dirt road (Masonic Road). After about ten kilometers, you can’t miss the mine.
I should clarify: this is an ABANDONED mine (not a town).
No one maintains it, and there’s no upkeep to prevent deterioration.
I saw a sealed mine entrance, but the ore-processing building (huge) is collapsing in on itself, and it seems dangerous to go too far inside. Either way, I wouldn’t dare walk on the remaining bits of floor.
You can’t really learn much about ore processing from these ruins, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a building this dangerous with no protection (aside from, maybe, a "danger" sign, which isn’t really protection anyway).
Incredible... in a certain way!
I head back down the dirt road, which offers beautiful views of the Bridgeport Reservoir (on the Walker River’s East Fork) with the Sierra Nevada in the background.
Back in Bridgeport, I go for a soak at "Travertine Hot Springs." I leave town on US-395 south, then after about 700–800 meters, turn left onto "Jack Sawyer Road," which leads there (about 2 km).
On the parking lot, there’s an RV and three cars. The first pool is right near the parking lot.
After walking about two hundred meters, I find two more pools fed by a channel—a narrow gorge carved into a long mound.
Now, the two (or three) pools at the end of the channel.
Farther down the site, there’s at least one more pool.
I stopped exploring there and enjoyed the pools fed by the channel (hot bath temperature) with a view of the Sierra Nevada.
While I was at "Travertine Hot Springs," the sky, which had been clear and bright all morning, started to cloud over. It kept darkening, and the end of the day felt dim (like night was coming too early).
I continue south on US-395 and stop at the viewpoint over "Mono Lake."
After Lee Vining (where I’ll be back soon), I take Route 120 toward Benton, then re-enter Nevada. After skirting "Boundary Peak" (in the clouds), I arrive in Dyer via Route 264.
Night at "Esmeralda Campground" in Dyer.
The two evenings when I really felt like I was far from everything during my time in Nevada were:
- This one in Dyer Valley
- The one at Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park.
The sense of isolation for people living in these places must be something truly unique.
Hi Sandrine,
you're mixing things up. The question you're asking isn't about "Death Valley" but "Valley of Fire State Park," a state park in Nevada.
Referring to a little brochure you can get at the park's Visitor Center, the road leading to the start of the hike is called "White Domes Road" or "Scenic Drive."
The recommended parking lot for "Fire Wave" is marked P3; it's pretty large.
Looking at your question, you can do a loop hike (shorter than mine) like this:
-Walk south from P3 along the road for about 1 km. You'll find yourself near "Stripped Rock," "Pastel Canyon," and parking lot P2 (very small, from what I remember).
-Take a left into "Pastel Canyon." Follow it for about 500 meters, and you'll reach "Fire Wave."
-After seeing "Fire Wave," return to P3 by following the (well-traveled) trail connecting the two spots (about 1 km as well).
My distances are rough estimates; it'll be really hot in July.
I came here for the rock formations at the site called "The Sump." So, I backtrack to the intersection of Highway 264 and Route 773 (Nevada 264 on the map). I turn right onto Route 773 and drive between 500 meters and 1 km. A track turns off to the right, crosses a very small wash (doable in a sedan), and arrives, after 1 to 2 km, near a much larger wash. I park.
I get out and walk into the wash (sandy) and head upstream under a clear blue sky and rising heat. It’s impossible to get lost, and the approach takes about 45 minutes. I won’t see anyone during the entire hike, though a 4x4 is visible in the distance near the site.
I arrive near the site.
I keep moving forward in the wash and turn around.
Exploration is entirely improvised, with hesitations and backtracking, as there’s quite a bit of relief and a sometimes very crumbly ground to navigate carefully.
A slightly different area with distinctly white rocks.
I find a few isolated formations.
I manage to reach a high point from which I can see a whole section of the site in a row.
When I look back toward the starting point of the hike, the horizon is dominated by the "White Mountains" (White Mountain Peak and Boundary Peak, both over 4,000 meters high).
After this site, I head off in search of "Fish Lake Valley Hot Springs" (Fish Lake Valley is the official name of the Dyer Valley), hoping to take a dip like yesterday. From the intersection of Highway 264 and Route 773, I drive the 9.5 km indicated and find "Willow Road," the track that should lead there. But once on it, several tracks branch off—I didn’t note any specifics (poor preparation) and don’t know how far the hot springs are. I give up.
I resume the planned route: Dyer, enter California, Oasis, a small pass, Deep Springs.
The road climbs toward another pass, "Westgard Pass," near which the turnoff to "Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest" is located. The access road starts at 2,100 meters and climbs to nearly 3,000 meters.
Hi Michel,
Thanks for this travel journal—I’m following it with interest. You’re bringing back so many great memories for me!
Reading you, I’d book a flight ticket right now to go back 😉
On the climb, I try to pay attention to the vegetation layers mentioned on a small sign.
There’s "Utah Juniper" at the lower level, then "Pinyon Pine" a bit higher up. These are the two species found everywhere in Nevada’s forests.
The road keeps climbing, and the forest disappears completely.
We then reach a plateau with a bare section and another covered by a forest on the mountainside, made up entirely of a single species: "Great Basin Bristlecone Pine."
The road leads to the far end of the plateau. "Schulman Grove" (Parking, Visitor Center) is to the left, a few hundred meters from the intersection.
I’m at about 3,000 meters elevation. There’s a second site, "Patriarch Grove," accessible via a 10 km dirt road, but it’s closed (barrier, elevation reached: 3,700 meters, snow).
Three hikes are offered; I’ll walk a few hundred meters on the "Bristlecone Cabin Trail," a hike the ranger at the Visitor Center advised against because it’s on a north-facing slope with icy snow.
The slope where this hike is located.
I get up close to my first "Bristlecone pines"—the only species that adapts to these altitude and climate conditions. They’re the oldest trees in the world.
On another hike, the "Methuselah Trail," you can see the oldest tree (around 4,700 years old), but you can’t identify it—no sign distinguishes it from the others to prevent vandalism.
I only walk part of the "Bristlecone Cabin Trail" before switching to the "Discovery Trail," which is shorter, developed, has explanatory signs, and is snow-free since it faces southwest.
As the photos show, there isn’t a high density of trees; the root system is spectacular when visible, which is often the case.
The close-ups of the wood are just as impressive—these trees grow (very slowly) on extremely rocky soil.
All that’s left is to head back down to the intersection and then to Big Pine. From there, I take US-395 and drive to tonight’s stop: "Crowley Lake BLM Campground," in the sagebrush steppe at the foot of the Sierra. It’s a very basic campground, but it offers a view of Crowley Lake (photo tomorrow).
Hi Fabien,
Following your suggestion about the lizard photo in my post "Day 17 continued"—where you thought it might be a banded gecko—I started looking through image databases.
It’s not easy because some details match while others don’t.
The searches jump from one species to another, and in the end, the closest match (and one that fits the distribution area) is:
"Great Basin Collared Lizard" or "Desert Collared Lizard," scientifically known as "Crotaphytus Bicinctores."
Just a suggestion, and I’m no more of an expert than you are.
This morning, it's sunny but cold. In "Mammoth Lakes" (a town), I pick up some tourist info at the Welcome Center.
I start by heading to "Twin Lakes"; it's on the edge of town at the end of "Lake Mary Road," which in winter ends near "Twin Lakes" (the road isn’t plowed at higher elevations). The shores are mostly snow-covered, and there’s wind on the lake, though I don’t really feel it in a small cove.
At the lake’s lower outlet, the wind (coming from the south) sweeps down from the Sierra and funnels through the valley where the two lakes are—it’s fierce and freezing.
I head back toward town; people are walking around with skis on their shoulders. I take "Mammoth Scenic Loop Road" to join US-395.
A little farther on, I do the "loop of the lakes" (Route 158); the first two lakes (June Lake and Gull Lake) are calm.
The road changes direction, and the third lake (Silver Lake) is in a wind-swept valley (like "Twin Lakes").
About ten kilometers later, I’m in Lee Vining.
I just saw (inclusion refused) that the number of photos per travel journal is limited to 300, effective March 9, 2020. I’ve gone over—I’ve posted too many.
I’ll figure out what to do.
Written on March 11, 2020.
I can’t continue this travel journal because I can’t include any more photos going forward.
The trip lasted 33 days, with day 33 being the return flight day.
I’ll write up day 33, but days 26 (only the start is written) through 32—seven days in total—will be missing.
Six of those seven days all have the same theme: the Sierra Nevada. I want to think about how to write it and the total number of photos before I start. I plan to get to it within a week at the latest. I’ll edit this post to add the name of the travel journal and see if it works on the site.
Wow, Death Valley is so beautiful—it's really one of my favorite parks. And the advantage of visiting in May is that the temperatures are much more bearable. We went there in August and hiked Golden Canyon in 48°C, and six years earlier, Natural Bridge in 52°C. Thankfully, we had brought water! I’ve always told myself I’d go back in the spring (now that I’m retired). Thanks for these amazing photos and this really interesting trip report.
Day 33: Friday, June 14 (Montara Lighthouse - France)
I wake up at 3 AM and I'm ready to leave 10 minutes later.
I open and close the youth hostel gate without any trouble.
I chose this accommodation for an easy trip to the airport: 19 km north on Route 1, then 11 km of highway to "San Francisco Airport." The signage to the rental car return center is well done.
At 3:40 AM, the car is returned; I barely have time to note the mileage on the odometer and grab my luggage.
At that hour, the rail link to the airport terminal isn't running; a bus replaces the train.
I don’t have a clear memory of the return trip: everything went according to schedule, smoothly (2-hour-40-minute layover in Montreal, arrival at Paris CDG on June 15 at 6:30 AM).
I got home in the early afternoon.
I just saw (inclusion refused) that the number of photos per travel journal is limited to 300, effective March 9, 2020: I’ve exceeded it, I’ve uploaded too many.
I’m new here too—this is news to me!
So if you stay for a month, that’s 10 photos per day. Even if you only visit one site a day, it’s really hard to summarize things so briefly.
The point of the travel journal and the visual info it contains becomes pretty weak.
Or else you’d have to create multiple journals, so the hidden goal (reducing photo volume) won’t be achieved.
About ten kilometers further on, I’m in Lee Vining.
I just saw (inclusion refused) that the number of photos per travel journal is limited to 300, effective March 9, 2020: I’ve gone over, I’ve added too many.
I’ll figure out what to do.
Written on March 11, 2020.
I can’t continue this travel journal because I can’t include any more photos in the rest.
I’m shocked by this limit.... Is VF trying to discourage forum members from keeping travel journals? I think we deserve an explanation!!
Anyway, Michel, thanks for this travel journal and for your perseverance.
Hi Michel,
This limitation is counterproductive! The photo quality was already degraded... And now, on top of that, we're limited to 300 photos—it's total nonsense. For a 30-day trip, with 2-3 sites visited per day, that means we’re basically allowed just 3 photos per site, including explanatory ones (routes, info signs, etc.).
So we’ll be back to the old travel journals where we had to split everything into multiple parts.
That’s what I’d encourage you to do, because your travel journal is fascinating!
By definition, when you limit production, yes, it's counterproductive.
But that doesn't make it a bad thing.
The photo quality is already degraded...
Increasing the number of photos won't improve it.
Now, on top of that, we're limited to 300—it's total nonsense.
Yes and no.
Some people don’t hesitate to dump their entire SD card as-is, posting one shot, then the same scene ten meters to the left, then ten meters to the right. Often with no comments at all. Reducing the number of photos will probably curb that kind of excess.
The text isn’t affected, and that’s really what makes a travel journal interesting anyway.
For a 30-day trip, with 2-3 sites visited per day, that means we’re only allowed 3 photos per site.
That’s already a lot.
That’s 10 photos a day. Basically, one per hour.
I think that’s enough.
Including explanatory photos (routes, info signs, etc...)
True, those are really useful.
We’ll go back to the old travel journals where we had to split things into multiple parts.
That’s definitely one solution.
Is it a good one? I don’t know, but it’s a solution.
And splitting things up when a trip has really distinct sections—why not?
That’s what I’m encouraging you to do, because your travel journal is fascinating!
Yes.
The issue here is different. While I don’t think it’s unreasonable to apply this limit to new travel journals created with full awareness, I do think it’s excessive and unfair to limit journals that have already been started.
I'm shocked by this limitation.... Is VF trying to discourage forum users from creating travel journals? I think we deserve an explanation!!
No, Diamina, VF is just trying to survive... It's better to have travel journals limited to 300 photos (which seems very reasonable to me) than no site at all... When a travel journal has over a thousand photos, it takes up more than 1 GB of data on the site's servers for that single journal, not to mention the bandwidth costs to send those photos worldwide and the backup system costs that protect the photos in case of a disaster with the main servers. The situation is very critical right now for VoyageForum (we're not a mega-corporation...) and everyone needs to do their part. This means that members should simply preselect their best photos before publishing them on the site to reduce the hosting costs of their travel journals.
If VF's financial situation returns to normal, we can increase the limit or even remove it. But right now (and this is even more true with the impact of coronavirus on the tourism industry; advertisers/sponsors who pay for the site's hosting are pulling out...), we have no choice but to cut costs.
That said, we in no way want to discourage the publication of new travel journals (the amount of text remains unlimited and the 300-photo limit per journal seems reasonable to summarize a trip). Our goal is simply to better share the remaining space on our servers among all members who want to publish a travel journal, while slowing the growth of hosting costs (servers, bandwidth, backups). Unfortunately, some members seem to have thought our resources were unlimited (especially those who post over a thousand photos per journal without any preselection), which is why we need to set a limit today. Even the massive photo site Flickr is in serious financial trouble... We need to stop thinking that the internet is free and unlimited... 😕 For every click on a site, every page, every photo, every text displayed, there has to be someone paying for the hardware and staff resources used behind the scenes.
What is this completely false statement? VoyageForum is one of the sites that applies the least compression to photos—so much so that it's practically imperceptible. Try a 4K screen (or a tablet with a high-DPI resolution) and open/enlarge a nice photo from a travel journal by clicking on it. The photo that appears will have a resolution of 2000 pixels wide (the actual photo file) to ensure maximum sharpness for the screen resolution... Show me another site the size of VoyageForum (or even bigger) that offers as much in terms of quality (imperceptible compression) and photo resolution... 🤪 We far exceed the highest standards for photo display. But that still doesn’t seem to be enough for you... 🤪
C'est contreproductif, cette limitation ! ... Si maintenant, en plus, on est limité à 300, c'est du grand n'importe quoi.
Thanks for the explanations. When, in another thread, a prominent member predicted, among other things, the end of VF as a consequence of Covid, they weren’t far off the mark 🤪😕
I take back what I said, and everyone will adapt to these new rules for the good of the community.
Sorry about the VoyageForum situation, and thanks for the explanations.
Is there any way to help? It’d be a shame if VF disappeared.
Starting a subscription... who knows, members might chip in... Even if everyone puts in just 1 €, with over a million members... and even if it’s only half, that should do it, right?🤪
Hey Diamina,
Great idea, but I’m wondering.
1 million members, but how many are active, and how many will be ready to contribute?
Opening the fundraiser doesn’t cost anything, and we might get a nice surprise.
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"So, my little wanderers, back at the decks? What’s this mystery destination you’ve got in store for us at the start of the year?"
Yes, the schoolyard bell’s ringing again! We’re hitting the road... or rather, the skies! At first glance, our destination might surprise more than a few. First off, simply because I was here exactly twenty years ago, and I don’t usually like retracing my own footsteps. Secondly, because the name of this place screams mass tourism—basically the opposite of what Flo and I look for.
Despite that, in this land of backsheesh, I’d promised myself I’d come back one day to experience it my way. And since Flo told me, during our wanderer chats, that this destination straddling Africa and the Middle East was in her top 2 travel dreams, the stars aligned for this roots-style trip to quickly make it onto our pharaonic festivities program! Unless you’re totally clueless in general knowledge, you’ve probably guessed by now—we’re off to Egypt! Of course, a few classics will be on our itinerary, but above all, we want to soak up a culture that can’t be appreciated in four-star resorts or on a Nile cruise boat. And let’s be clear, these next two weeks won’t be a walk in the park—neither for our two daughters who are joining us, nor for our bodies!
And that’s clear from the get-go: after our first flight, eight hours of trying (and failing) to sleep on Milan airport’s metal seats, our second flight, landing, passport stamps, our Uber ride, and our first Cairo kilometers, we finally drop our exhaustion at the little guesthouse we booked in Giza. Doesn’t all that energy deserve a little reward?
Oh, absolutely! And here it is: a full-on slap in the face for everyone! But just look at this view from our hotel terrace? For 20 € a night for four, even with this incredible view, I figured the room must be pretty shabby, right? Nope... Is the staff rude, then? Nope... Okay, so what’s the catch? You’re gonna tell me breakfast is included too? Well, yes! Honestly, this Egypt trip is off to a great start.
And the rest of the afternoon, spent rubbing shoulders with locals, only confirmed this vibe. After digesting our pyramid view, we dove into the hustle and bustle of our neighborhood with the goal of exchanging money, eating at street stalls, and testing the hospitality of the locals. Ten out of ten!
Eight little sun breads with baba ganoush and falafel? 80 pounds, or 1.5 €. A dozen Middle Eastern pastries? Same! 80 pounds! Two hawawshis, those little pita breads stuffed with meat and spices? 10 pounds each, or about twenty cents! Not to mention all those smiles and free "welcomes" left and right!!!
What a welcome! We end this first day with a sunset over the three sisters of Giza—where we’ll obviously be gawking tomorrow...
The latest travel journal about Turkmenistan dates back to 2019. Here’s a quick update on this vast desert country, which is now a bit easier to visit than before.
This is my first travel journal. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. The country is slowly opening up, but it’s still possible to visit sites where you’ll be completely alone. In five days, I saw two Hongkongers, a few Germans, and a Chilean at the crater, ten Chinese people in a capital bazaar, and that’s it!
It’s possible to visit Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan. The easiest and most economical way is to take a taxi to the border from Bukhara. The trip takes a little over an hour.
Crossing the border takes quite a while because many Turkmen bring back items bought in Uzbekistan to resell in Turkmenistan. For example, diapers, baby products, or beauty products.
It took me over 2.5 hours to cross the border. To visit Turkmenistan, it’s mandatory to have a guide and go through a travel agency. British agencies often offer three-, five-, or seven-day trips for over 1,500 or 2,000 €.
But if your budget is more limited, you can contact a few Turkmen agencies directly by email, and they’ll make you an offer between 700 and 1,300 € for three to seven days. I took a five-day trip from Turkmenabat in the northeast of the country to Dashoguz in the north. The goal was to visit the main UNESCO-listed sites, including Merv, and archaeological sites like Nisa or Gonur Tepe.
Your guide will also be your driver. They’ll pick you up at the border. The formalities are very long because customs officers have to stamp multiple documents, and obtaining the visa you previously requested from your travel agency requires several checks. But the process goes relatively smoothly, even if each step takes a while.
Once on the other side, the first surprise is the brand-new highway all the way to Turkmenabat. A very long line of trucks stretches for several kilometers on the Turkmen side to cross the border into Uzbekistan. According to my guide, Turkmen trucks transport gas and cotton (though not this season, since the harvest is in September), but they mainly fill up their tanks because fuel is much cheaper in Turkmenistan. A full tank for a car costs about 3 €, which is unbeatable.
From the Farap border post, the goal is to reach the city of Mary, which is home to the UNESCO-listed site of Merv in its suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. This city is known as a foundation by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC under the name Alexandria of Margiana. Several fortresses are visible.
After more than three hours on the road, we have lunch at a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin. Several quotes from the president are visible along the highway, but the road is in good condition, and we move along easily. This will be by far the best road in the country—things will get much worse later.
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
If I close my eyes and think of the Sultanate of Oman, I first smell a light scent of incense, feel the warmth of a sunbeam on my skin, before sand slips through my fingers. I taste the sweetness of a date, a real candy, then the flavor of coffee with a hint of cardamom and rosewater... I hear the desert wind whistling in my ears, the distant call of a muezzin, then the murmur of water. I open my eyes to see smiles, welcoming gestures, a turquoise sea, rocks ranging from ochre to purple, deep wadis where torrents burst forth, orange dunes, white sandy beaches where tiny crabs scurry at full speed. I see incredible oases emerging between arid mountains. I see abandoned villages that I’d dream were full of life, imposing fortresses overlooking valleys, and lively souks where offers are delicate and negotiation is a mutual courtesy.
All that, and so much more.
This is what I tried to capture in my illustrated travel journal, which I’ll fill in here and there with photos.
I drew this journal “cold,” after my return (actually, I made it this summer, while our trip was last winter). It’s a pretty special format—I bought it in Japan without really knowing what I’d do with it. Well, it found its purpose! Below is a photo of this accordion-style journal: here, it’s only partially open, because when fully unfolded, it’s 5 meters long!
For drawing enthusiasts: The accordion format is both a constraint (each sheet is 9 cm x 27 cm) and a freedom (you can create a fresco). The paper is also a bit special: it doesn’t allow for fine lines, but it takes ink well (liner pen). However, everything has to be done almost in one go (with a very light pencil sketch) because it erases poorly. It absorbs too much water for coloring with markers or watercolors (unless you avoid soaking it), but it works well with oil pastels and their use with a brush and solvent. Since it’s yellowish, it allowed me to create contrasts even with white pastel.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Oman is one of the world’s largest producers of frankincense resin. Incense burners are everywhere, from the simplest clay ones to the most precious handcrafted silver ones...
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed...
Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.
It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.
We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂
At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe).
In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko.
I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip.
Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest.
The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days.
As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.
Transportation:
An ICOCA card is essential.
I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.
Accommodations:
Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.
Meals:
For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés.
For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen.
Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima.
Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima.
A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto.
Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi).
Tempura and gyoza.
Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal.
One omakase meal (9 different dishes).
In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef.
Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.
The Itinerary:
Day 1: Departure from Brussels
Day 2: Arrival in Osaka
Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki
Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi
Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido
Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima
Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade
Day 8: To Miyajima
Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto
Day 10: Southern Kyoto
Day 11: Northern Kyoto
Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa
Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago)
Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima)
Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto
Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko)
Day 17: To Tokyo
Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura
Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong
Day 20: Arrival in Brussels
My buddy Christian and I (Patrick) are off for 28 days in Argentina in March.
We’ve already shared several trips as a duo (Bolivia Peru, Namibia, Laos, Costa Rica).
Since we’re starting from the idea that at our age (65) we won’t be coming back here—there are just too many other corners of the world to discover—we did the "grand tour" of Argentina, with 6 domestic flights to make the most of our 28 days.
Here are our stops:
1) Departure from Brussels to Buenos Aires via Madrid
2) Arrival and first contact with Buenos Aires
3) Early morning flight to Ushuaia. Boat trip on the Beagle Channel
4) Ushuaia: hikes in Tierra del Fuego National Park
5) Ushuaia: last hike and flight to El Calafate
6) El Calafate to El Chaltén by bus. First hike
7) El Chaltén: hike
8) El Chaltén: hike
9) El Chaltén: hike and bus back to El Calafate
10) El Calafate: Perito Moreno Glacier
11) Flight to Bariloche. Car rental and surrounding areas
12) Seven Lakes Region
13) Nahuel Huapi National Park region
14) Flight to Salta. Car rental
15) To Tilcara
16) To Humahuaca
17) To Purmamarca
18) To Jujuy via the salt flats
19) To Cafayate
20) Around Cafayate
21) To Cachi
22) Back to Salta
23) Flight to Iguazu
24) Waterfalls on the Argentine side
25) Waterfalls on the Brazilian side and flight to Buenos Aires
26) Buenos Aires
27) Return flight
28) Morning arrival
Happy reading!..
Hi everyone, we're back from a DIY USA road trip we organized from July 31, 2026, to August 26, 2026.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say.
Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
"How about a Christmas market this year, huh? A little romantic weekend getaway...
- Yes! That’d be cool! Strasbourg? Colmar?
- Feels a bit déjà vu, doesn’t it? Plus, slim chance of snow there... And I’d love something a bit more exotic with a touch of originality..."
"Okay, Google, give me the list of the five most beautiful Christmas markets in Europe.
- In fifth place, the Christmas market in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania.
- Save your breath! Lithuania, here we come!"
We wanted cold, and cold is exactly what we got the moment we set foot in this new, unknown land. As for landscapes, forests and lakes stretch as far as the eye can see across this vast plain, its vegetation scorched by the frost of a winter that’s clearly already well underway here.
Lakes, in fact, set the scene for our first visit to Trakai Castle, whose brick-red towers and walls rise proudly against the azure sky of our first day. Lakes, because this castle was built on an island and is only accessible on foot via a series of walkways spanning half-frozen lake offshoots. I couldn’t have picked a better spot to build my castle! Translation: We’re totally sold! Proof is we spend two hours hiking around the area, alternating between forests, reeds, and cozy houses tastefully decorated for Christmas.
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.
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
Here we go!!!
I left home at 4 AM on October 31st and headed to Barcelona. Driving through Barcelona on the ring road stresses me out a bit, but at 6 AM the traffic is smooth, and I arrive at the airport without any issues. I call the valet, who quickly comes to pick up my car. He takes photos of it from all angles before letting me go.
Baggage check-in hasn’t started yet, and there are already several of us waiting.
Once free, everything happens very quickly. The flight to Abu Dhabi is on time and goes smoothly. I’ve never had any problems with this airline, which I’ve been using for several years.
The flight to Bangkok arrives at 7 AM as scheduled. This is my first time in Thailand and Bangkok. I’m used to traveling in India, and I notice that everything here is well organized—the customs process is quick, and the luggage is already on the carousel.
I booked a taxi on Booking. All I have to do is find the right exit and door based on the agency’s instructions. A large sign with the names of people who booked is posted on a wall. A hostess greets me and calls the taxi, which arrives 5 minutes later. I booked one night at the Lost Inn BKK hotel in the Phra Nakhon district, and we arrive at 9 AM. The welcome isn’t warm, and I have to wait until noon, sitting on a chair, before I can check into my room. I’m exhausted, and sleeping sitting up isn’t ideal. Noon finally arrives—the room is small but clean, which is fine for one night. I quickly take a shower to wake up because I plan to spend the afternoon visiting the Grand Palace. First, I need to exchange some money, and the banks are all close together on the same street, which is very convenient. When I enter one, a hostess gives me a ticket and invites me to sit down. There are about twenty counters, and I wait quietly until my number is called. The exchange is quick, so I can head out to find the Royal Palace. It’s actually very easy, and the walk is pleasant.
Entry to the Royal Palace (500 baht).
It’s magnificent and grand, and there are quite a few of us visiting. The sky is gray, it’s very humid, and a shower interrupts the visit. It’s a vast complex of temples and palaces. The buildings are colorful and sparkling, with a great sense of serenity (without the tourists, of course). I quietly enjoy the place and try to take photos without tourists, which isn’t easy.
Very close to the Grand Palace is Wat Pho, one of the oldest Buddhist temples in the capital.
It’s very famous for its 46-meter-long reclining Buddha statue.
Walking around the temple, you can see different representations of Buddha, all covered in gold leaf.
Inside the temple, on one side, monks recite their prayers, while the other side is reserved for tourists who come to meditate in silence.
Before returning to the hotel, I have dinner at an Indian restaurant. I go to bed early because tomorrow’s wake-up call will be very early again.
Saturday, November 2nd
Wake-up at 4 AM, departure from the hotel at 4:30 AM. The taxi I booked via Booking is waiting for me and takes me to the airport. The trip is fairly quick—he takes small roads, and at this hour, there’s no traffic.
The flight to Phnom Penh is on time. Before boarding, I realize I left my fleece jacket on the carousel, but it’s too late to go back for it.
The flight goes well, and customs is quick.
At the exit, I take a tuk-tuk to Julieka’s GH near the museum. The welcome is friendly. I won’t be able to check into my room until noon, so I take the opportunity to exchange some euros on the market street. The street is lined with restaurants, and I’ll have my first meal there.
The museum is right across the street, so I don’t waste any time visiting it.
The representations of Hindu deities are very different from those in India, and I don’t recognize them. Many beautiful Buddhas are on display.
The museum is very pleasant, and there aren’t too many people, which is a plus.
At the exit, I return to the GH, settle into my room—which is decent and clean.
The Royal Palace is 1 km away. I walk along a garden, and at the end of the street is the Tonlé Sap, but I turn right. I arrive at a large esplanade and see the buildings with tiered roofs and glazed tiles. The entrance to the palace is a little further away.
At the entrance, I notice there isn’t the same crowd as at the one in BKK.
Khmer architecture is magnificent. The complex consists of gardens, palaces, pagodas with golden roofs, and slender spires.
The Silver Pagoda houses the small Emerald Buddha, which is actually made of jade. The silver flooring is covered with carpets. Photos are not allowed.
The walls surrounding the pagoda are covered with frescoes depicting scenes from the Ramayana.
My partner and I traveled from Sunday, July 5, 2026, to Wednesday, July 22, 2026.
We spent a long time debating whether to rent a car or use public transportation. In the end, after reading so many posts about travelers getting scammed by police or rental companies—even those recommended by blogs and reviews—we decided to stick with public transport. It worked out really well. Sure, we had a little less freedom to go where we wanted, but it was way less stressful for us.
Sunday, July 5:
Arrived at Cancun Airport. Withdrew cash from the ATM in the terminal just before exiting. The ADO bus counter (they pronounce it "A-Jee-O") is right behind you when you're facing the ATM. Bus to downtown Cancun cost 145 pesos per person.
Stayed at "Rose 5," booked on Booking. The studio was super clean and perfect for one night. The owner’s instructions for accessing the place were very precise, with photos included. Check-in was self-service with a code. The ADO bus terminal isn’t far, and there are shops and restaurants nearby. We really appreciated that the AC was already on when we arrived. By the way, I’d recommend always booking places with AC—it’s *really* hot in Mexico.
Monday, July 6:
Bought a SIM card with data from a TELCEL store. My partner, who’s on Free Mobile, was able to use her regular plan. Just so you know, I found the network pretty unstable. As soon as we left the cities, neither of us—me with TELCEL or her with Free—had any signal.
Another thing to watch out for: roaming charges. I had to turn my SIM back on for less than 30 seconds to get a bank SMS code, and my phone apparently connected to the internet—resulting in an 8-euro roaming fee.
Left on an ADO bus to Chiquila for 278 pesos per person. During our trip, ADO buses were always on time, comfortable, and clean. The AC is *cranked* though, so bring something to cover up with—it gets cold. Some routes were fully booked even in the low season, so try to reserve 1 or 2 days in advance either via the app (when it works) or at the counter.
When we arrived at the ADO terminal in Chiquila, the ferry company counters were right next to it. Ferries leave every 30 minutes, alternating between companies, so no need to book ahead. Just take whichever one is leaving next (330 pesos per person).
When we got to Holbox (pronounced "Hol-bosh"), we’d booked a place via Booking called "Casa de Nana." It was a huge studio with a fridge, cooking plate, and utensils. The best part? The *location*. It was 100 meters from the beach and 200 meters from a Chedraui supermarket. They provided bath towels and beach towels, and the AC worked perfectly. There’s a key box so you can leave your keys inside when you go out. The only downside was that no one was there to let us in when we arrived, so we had to wait a while. The Wi-Fi was good, which was lucky because during our 4-day stay in Holbox, the phone network *never* worked. According to locals, that’s pretty common in Holbox, along with water outages.
Luckily, I’d had the good idea to download an offline map, which helped us find our way back to the place more easily. You can walk there from the dock.
The restaurant next to our place (La Barracuda) was great if you like seafood—I’d recommend their octopus dishes.
Tuesday, July 7:
We did a kayak tour in Holbox’s mangroves at 6 AM. We were looking for a sunrise kayak tour with a French-speaking guide. That’s exactly what we got with "Kayaking Holbox," where Diego, the owner, speaks English and French. He was joined by Gustavo, another guide.
We’d booked for a group tour, but we were the only ones. Diego still went ahead with it instead of canceling due to lack of participants, so we got a private tour at the group rate—really professional of him. They showed us this amazing ecosystem for over 3 hours. We saw all kinds of birds: pink flamingos, pelicans, egrets, frigatebirds... rays, a horseshoe crab, and a little crocodile that was *so* well hidden. Diego and Gustavo have a real eye for spotting animals—I could’ve passed by the crocodile 100 times and never seen it, it blended in so well. Their explanations about the flora and fauna were super interesting. We also got a little break where we tasted mangoes and bananas that taste *nothing* like the ones in France. A real treat—those little Mexican yellow mangoes! I’d definitely recommend Diego and his agency for a French-language kayak tour (1000 pesos per person).
In the evening, we walked to Punta Coco to see the bioluminescence. No need for a guided tour—if you really don’t want to walk, you can take a taxi. At Punta Coco, you have to pass the beach bar/restaurant and then go left into a kind of inlet that forms a lagoon. You have to wiggle your feet or move your hands in the water to create movement, which makes the light appear. Just don’t expect the kind of photos you’ve seen online—they’re all edited! It’s fun to see, but you won’t be dazzled by the light...
Wednesday, July 8:
Whale shark tour with "My Holbox Tours." Why recommend this agency over others for swimming with whale sharks? Simply because Valérie surrounds herself with top professionals to make your experience unforgettable. We were with Captain Fernando, who does everything to position the boat perfectly and make your swim easier. In the water, we were with Humberto, who also goes above and beyond to make sure you have an incredible time. He doesn’t just "supervise" like some guides from other companies who leave you on your own. No, Humberto reads the whale shark’s trajectory and guides you—all you have to do is follow him. He really puts in the effort, even holding your hand to guide you through this quick but intense encounter. Humberto also films the moment and will offer to show you the videos and sell them to you. His footage is really high quality.
Fernando and Humberto also prepared food for us. Special mention for their guacamole! Valérie is there to make sure everything goes smoothly on the boat and to answer your questions in French, English, or Spanish about these animals. If you choose My Holbox Tours, you can be sure you’ll get a top-notch experience.
About the tour itself: before you go, you should know that the sharks can be *really* far away. The day we went, it took 3.5 hours by boat to reach them. The boats are small, and let me tell you—on the way there, when we weren’t going with the waves, it was *rough*. Out of 9 passengers, 4 got seasick. But once you’re face-to-face with the shark, you forget all about that. Even if swimming with a whale shark isn’t exactly a walk in the park—they swim pretty fast, so you need some endurance to keep up. You’ll usually get 2 turns. Our first swim lasted a little over 4 minutes, and the second about 2 minutes because the shark was moving fast and we were still tired from the first swim. It might seem short, but when you’re swimming, it feels *long*. Either way, it’s an experience you *have* to do—but choose your company wisely. On the way back, there’s a stop at Cabo Catoche. Honestly, the snorkeling is pretty disappointing if you’ve done it elsewhere in the world. But the lunch stop at Cabo Catoche is really nice for relaxing (white sand and hammocks).
Thursday, July 9:
Short morning walk to Punta Mosquito at 6 AM. Really nice.
Ferry to Chiquila (330 pesos per person) + ADO bus to Valladolid (300 pesos per person).
In Valladolid, we booked "Casa Lucia" via Booking. The hotel is gorgeous, with a colonial style, and very close to the ADO bus terminal and downtown. It’s super quiet and clean. There’s a shared kitchen you can use with a fridge, microwave, and water dispenser, plus a big table by the pool and a nice indoor terrace. Breakfast was simple but included. The only small downsides were the tiny room and bathroom, no mirror in the room, and a noisy fan.
Friday, July 10:
Not far from the ADO bus terminal is the colectivo station for Chichen Itza. They offer a round-trip to Chichen Itza with an option to stop at Ik Kil cenote on the way back and then drop you off in Valladolid for 370 pesos per person (Ik Kil entrance included).
For the Chichen Itza visit, we’d booked a tour with a guide often mentioned in groups—his name is Juan Pat. He’s a Maya who lives near the site and speaks excellent French. He reserves spots in advance for you and queues up to be the first on-site. It cost 500 pesos per person + entrance fees. His tour lasts 2 hours and focuses mainly on the main pyramid and the ball court. He’s passionate and fascinating, even if some of his claims, as a Maya, might be a little biased. I think it’s *really* important to have a guide—otherwise, you’ll miss so much. You can contact Juan Pat on WhatsApp at +52 985 121 2381.
Afterward, we went to Ik Kil cenote (showers and life jackets mandatory, lockers available). It’s *very* crowded, but still really beautiful with its lush vegetation.
Saturday, July 11:
Since we didn’t have a car but still wanted to visit other cenotes that seemed hard to reach by public transport, we decided to book a taxi for the day. We agreed on 1200 pesos to take us to 3 different cenotes and wait for us at each one. (To find taxis, just look where they park near the ADO bus station.)
He picked us up at Zaci cenote, which we’d walked to. We got there at opening time and were the first ones there—had the place to ourselves for a while! 150 pesos per person. A pretty cenote in the city center with lush vegetation. It’s a bit like Ik Kil but without the deep cylindrical effect.
Cenote Xcanahaltun: the most beautiful cenote we visited. Entry 250 pesos per person. It’s a closed cenote with a hole that lets light in—a cave-like setting. You can kayak inside. There are little fish at the edge that nibble dead skin off your feet. Since it’s closed, the water is *freezing*!
Cenote Palomitas: entry 250 pesos per person. Another stunning closed cenote, even more enclosed than Xcanahaltun. The hole in the ceiling is smaller, so it was pretty dark when we arrived—kind of an eerie vibe. But when the staff turned on the lights, it looked like a "Gothic cathedral" full of bright stalactites.
Cenote Sac Aua: entry 290 pesos per person. The ticket includes a guided cave tour (tip-based). This cenote is really unique with its central island and way less crowded than Suytun. Just so you know, the water is *really* cold in cenotes. In these three, in July, we had the place to ourselves for a while and never saw more than 2 families at once—so peaceful!
Sunday, July 12:
ADO bus to Bacalar (536 pesos per person).
In Bacalar, we stayed via Airbnb with a host named Luli, who offers several rooms with shared bathroom and kitchen.
The room is nicely decorated in a pleasant setting. It’s ideally located near the lagoon and downtown. The shared kitchen is handy. The mosquito net over the bed is useful because there are *a lot* of mosquitoes in Bacalar. Luli provides a water jug, which is really nice. The only big downside is the lack of water pressure in the shower—we had to rinse off by filling a bucket. Also, there’s no real door separating the room from the bathroom. We never met Luli in person, but she was very responsive via messages. The terrace in the middle of the vegetation is lovely.
From the ADO terminal to the place, we took a taxi for 40 pesos. Since this driver was honest about the price (we’d checked beforehand), we decided to use him every time we needed a taxi in Bacalar. Here’s his WhatsApp: +52 983 184 3585.
Monday, July 13:
We did a boat tour on the lagoon with "Bacalar Francophone Activities." Since we were just the two of us, it cost 3500 pesos. If we’d managed to be 4 people, it would’ve been 1000 pesos per person.
We had a private 4-hour tour on the lagoon with Steeve and his very comfortable boat. He’s from Quebec, so his French is perfect. During those 4 hours, Steeve showed us the lagoon’s iconic spots *and* places other boats don’t go. He told us about the lagoon’s history and gave great tips on where to go and where to eat. As a little bonus, he gave us a video taken with his drone during our swimming break.
Tuesday, July 14:
We went to Los Rapidos by taxi (400 pesos round trip) and entry was 225 pesos per person. It’s *very* touristy but really beautiful. You can eat there (expensive), relax, and go down the "rapids" as many times as you want. It’s worth it if you spend a few hours there. You can’t bring in food or drinks—you leave them at the entrance and pick them up on the way out.
Wednesday, July 15:
On Wednesdays, navigation is banned on Bacalar Lagoon, so we’d planned another excursion.
Visit to Calakmul from Bacalar with ABCtours (WhatsApp +52 983 319 8359).
This agency organized a trip from Bacalar to Calakmul with a French-speaking guide. Communication beforehand via WhatsApp was smooth. Mr. Checo, the driver, and Fernando, the guide (who spoke great French), picked us up on the day. Mr. Checo drove very carefully on the long road and always made sure we were comfortable. Fernando is passionate about flora and fauna—he’s a biologist with a degree in ornithology, so he knows *everything* about animals. The slightest sound or song, and he knows what it is. He’s got an eye for spotting them, from the biggest to the smallest.
During the trip, we stopped at km 27 for a short forest walk, then went to see the two main pyramids on the site. On the way back, we stopped at the bat cave for the magical spectacle of millions of bats flying out at dusk. In the end, we saw or glimpsed (some briefly) spider monkeys, howler monkeys, a toucan, 2 tapirs, turkeys, 2 deer, and lots of birds. If, like us, you’re more into flora and fauna than archaeology, I’d *highly* recommend this agency and tour with Fernando.
It’s not cheap, but the road between Bacalar and the site is *long* (3.5 hours). Price: 3900 pesos per person for 2 (3500 for 3, 3200 for 4).
Thursday, July 16:
ADO bus to Playa del Carmen (614 pesos per person).
In Playa del Carmen, we stayed in an Airbnb. The building is on the town hall square, next to the casino.
The best thing about this place is the *location*—super close to Fifth Avenue (La Quinta). The kitchen is pretty basic, but the fridge works well. There are supermarkets nearby. The rooftop pool is really nice. The two big downsides, though, are the soundproofing (you can *hear* the neighbor’s alarm and all the events on the square) and the *total* lack of water pressure in the shower. We had to fill a trash can with water to pour over ourselves. When we told the owner, he said it wasn’t normal and someone would come fix it, but we never heard back. Based on previous reviews, this seems to be a known issue that never gets resolved.
Playa del Carmen is *very* touristy on Fifth Avenue, but in a fun, musical vibe—we never felt unsafe. There are *tons* of little souvenir shops for tourists on this street. There’s a beautiful monumental sculpture on the beach (the two figures meeting in the air), next to which you can see the Voladores show (men climbing a pole, tying themselves with ropes, and descending headfirst while "flying" around the pole). The show is tip-based and happens several times a day. In our opinion, Calle 38 is prettier than Fifth Avenue—it’s lush, green, and quieter, with the sea at the end. Great for an early evening stroll. We had really good meals at great prices at "El Tio Noy" tacos, just a few meters from Fifth Avenue in a side street.
For souvenirs, we’d recommend going to Walmart instead of Fifth Avenue—you’ll find skulls, tequila, mezcal, keychains, mugs, glasses... at good, fixed prices.
Friday, July 17:
We did the excursion to Isla Contoy. Isla Contoy is an uninhabited, highly protected island. Only 200 people are allowed to land per day on a rotating basis, so only a few companies have permission to dock there. Most agencies subcontract the day to a third-party company.
We booked through VRM (Viviendo Riviera Maya), but it was Ocean Tours Mexico that handled the tour. Contoy is a little paradise. We were accompanied by multilingual guides, including French speakers, throughout the day. Steffy gave us info about the island during a short walk on the marked trails, and Leño Tlatemoa kept the mood up on the boat rides with music and dancing. Isla Contoy is *truly* stunning, and the lunch was delicious: grilled fish and chicken, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, fruit, drinks (everything is brought and taken back by the guides). The snorkeling part was pretty disappointing if you’ve done it in Cozumel, though. The stop at Isla Mujeres isn’t very interesting either—it’s too short to explore, and the island is *extremely* touristy. Still, the excursion was very well organized, and we had a great day (2970 pesos per person).
Saturday, July 18:
We wanted to go snorkeling in Cozumel but thought the prices from French-speaking agencies were too high. Plus, for snorkeling, we figured we didn’t *need* a French-speaking guide.
So we found a much cheaper solution by taking the ferry from Playa del Carmen ourselves and choosing an agency in Playa. The round-trip ferry cost 663.50 pesos per person. Then we took a taxi to the snorkeling boat (100 pesos). The agency we chose is called Mystic Snorkel—they don’t have a physical office. The tour cost 1400 pesos per person. It was a small boat, but that day we were the only ones, so we got a private tour at the group rate. We stopped at 4 different sites, all very different and beautiful. We saw all kinds of fish, corals, a nurse shark, and turtles. El Cielo, with its huge starfish, is *exceptional*. If you’re going snorkeling in the Yucatan Peninsula, this is *the* tour to do—the other sites are pretty "poor" in comparison.
Sunday, July 19:
Morning dive with Triton Diving. I chose the Cozumel dive option. Great experience.
Booking via WhatsApp was easy. On the day of the dive, Selene, who speaks French, was our guide. She’s *very* attentive to the group’s safety. The briefings are clear and precise. In Cozumel, we did 2 very different sites: the first was a drift dive with lots of life—beautiful corals and fish. The second was a wreck, the C53, a 56-meter boat you can enter. Not much marine life, but a beautiful wreck intentionally sunk for divers—still in great condition. An unforgettable moment. Selene even took videos during the dive, which the club sends you for free afterward. I’d *highly* recommend this club.
Just so you know, in Playa del Carmen, the beaches were full of sargassum during our stay, despite barriers and daily cleanup. Locals told us the problem is getting worse and the sargassum is arriving earlier in the season. Tourism has taken a *big* hit this summer, and they’re wondering if tourism can even survive the sargassum season anymore. A lot of tourists are heading to the islands—Isla Mujeres and Cozumel—to enjoy the beaches, as the west side of those islands is sargassum-free.
Monday, July 20:
Colectivo to Puerto Morelos. First, a colectivo toward Cancun that drops you off between Puerto Morelos town and Puerto Morelos beach (40 pesos per person), then another from that junction to the beach (10 pesos per person).
In Puerto Morelos, we’d booked a room via Airbnb at "Piedra del Caribe." *Best* place we stayed in Mexico. It’s an aparthotel. Our room was ready before check-in, so they let us in early. The place matched the description—spacious, with a comfortable king-size bed. The shower had *great* pressure, which isn’t a given in Mexico. The staff was super friendly and welcoming. They let us use the pool, restrooms, and rooftop shower after check-out while we waited for our ride to Cancun Airport. They even kept our luggage. I *highly* recommend this place.
In Puerto Morelos, there was *way* less sargassum than in Playa del Carmen—it was actually swimmable.
We did the snorkeling tour with the fishermen’s cooperative for 450 pesos per person for 2 hours. The reef is close to the beach (you’re not allowed to swim there), so the boat ride is short. It’s not as pretty as Cozumel, but it’s nice and affordable. On Puerto Morelos’s page, you can also access a small, not-very-well-preserved reef. There’s also a cenote in the sea where fresh water mixes with saltwater—the water is murky there. We had a great dinner and excellent cocktails at "La Choza del Puerto."
Tuesday, July 21:
Wandered around Puerto Morelos (check out the church and read everything—it’s entertaining!), relaxed by the hotel pool, and left for Cancun Airport by taxi (400 pesos) booked via InDrive to head back to France.
Our highlights:
- Holbox
- The whale shark tour
- The cenotes
- The local flora and fauna (so present!)
- Isla Contoy
- Cabo Catoche (except for the snorkeling)
What we liked least:
- The bioluminescence (barely visible despite good conditions)
- The food—we found it not very diverse in taquerias
- The constant tipping
- The lack of water pressure in showers (fixed, wall-mounted, no hose or showerhead)
Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions while it’s still fresh in our minds.
Traveling with just one spare pair of underwear, considering a hot shower a miracle, never staying in the same place too long by sleeping wherever night catches us, taking whatever local, improbable, and rickety transport we can find—this is the DNA of us wanderers. Except this time, the script for our movie is going to be a whole different genre. On paper, the destination doesn’t exactly scream epic adventure: Réunion! And what’s more... we won’t be two, or four, or even ten. We’ll be a solid thirty. All from the same family. Yes, thirty. At this point, it’s not just a trip—it’s a summer camp on the move! Why inflict this on such a peaceful island? Because my brother decided to get married there with his lovely bride. A great idea, you might say... especially when it involves relocating the equivalent of a small Ardennes village 10,000 kilometers from home for three weeks! So who’s stepping up to be the guide and wave the little flag?
So, for an exceptional trip, exceptional stories! Don’t worry, the debates at the supermarket over whether to choose plain chips or roast chicken chips, the beach picnics washed down with ti’ punch, and other rougail sausages to digest by the pool will only make it into the family archives. Here, I’ll stick to the tales of our beautiful escapes, the ones where we explore the wild corners of this little volcanic rock planted in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So where exactly are we headed?
For the first week—the subject of this first installment—we’re taking it easy. We’ll start by rediscovering the coastline, from the Souffleur in Saint-Leu to the Hermitage lagoon, before a little trip to the Cirque de Cilaos and its legendary road with 400 turns, just to get our legs warmed up.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of three years at most in Thailand, and I’m not a big expert on the country.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to piece together a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who miss it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guards for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big property, be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t really made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though, are much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been broken for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the side of the road, sometimes right on the road. When you arrive, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, which reminds visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. Seeing a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you might think it’s best not to cross paths with them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at temples on the brink of death, enduring terrible suffering. No one did anything about it. The image (and the smell) of one of them, dying and emitting the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The well-fed animal quickly became a happy, enormous beast with its own garden. Yet, it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water in them for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not a gimmick—it’s just that these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather,
A season that only exists in the southwest of America,
I remember very well what I told you that morning
A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago...
We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...
Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!
To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"
As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...
Here we go—finally, the big day has arrived! A trip the whole family (my two kids, my husband, and me) had been looking forward to for so long.
To keep it short, we left from Nice, arrived in Namibia on June 25, 2025, and left again on the 21st—four weeks later.
We used an agency for all the camping reservations, activities, and the car rental. At least that side of things was taken care of. Michaël was our contact throughout the planning and the trip itself.
We spent our first night at Londiningi BB. A bit out of the city center but very quiet. The rooms were spacious and clean, and we could eat on-site that evening. Perfect for recovering from the flight.
This travel journal is our second on VoyageForum, following last year’s where we recounted our four weeks in Vietnam.
The goal remains the same: since some members on this site share tips, experiences, and great deals that help us prepare for our trips, we do the same after returning—both to give back a little and in the hope that our experiences might be useful to others in some way.
Our route was as follows: Bangkok, Siem Reap, Krabi, Suratthani, Koh Phangan, Koh Tao, Chumphon, Bang Saphan, Prachuab Khiri Khan, Sam Roi Yod, Hua Hin, Phetchaburi, Bangkok.
Beyond rediscovering Bangkok, our objectives were the long-held dream of seeing Angkor and exploring southern Thailand, much of which isn’t overly touristy.
A quick big thank-you to Barbot, who took the time to answer several of our questions.
12/07/2013
The cheapest flight we found earlier this year was a Paris-Bangkok route with a layover in Moscow for 1440 €, total for two people.
So, this time we tried Aeroflot. Airbus A318 for the first leg, A330 for the second. Nothing particularly annoying to report—the passengers were very calm, the cabin temperature was comfortable, and we had enough legroom.
That said, the quality of the meal trays was pretty mediocre, and the flight attendants weren’t exactly comedians.
We’d like to remind everyone that it’s best to exchange as little money as possible at the airport upon arrival, since the rate is about 5% worse than at city banks.
Of course, we made sure to take the airport exit where you can catch official taxis to avoid getting scammed. So, we queued up, a little lady gave us the ticket, and off we went with the driver.
Generally, this system works well because these drivers are registered, know their duties, and the risks they face if they break the rules. Except that day, right off the bat, we got the scammer of the day. His first move was to snatch the ticket from my wife’s hands—the one you’re supposed to keep in case of a complaint. My husband saw it, but after a full day of travel, we were a bit out of it, and honestly, there was no reason to be suspicious. But once we started driving, the guy refused to turn on the meter. We insisted more and more firmly, but nothing. So, I used the famous method of opening the door and starting to step out of the car. At 40 km/h, that scares the driver more than the passenger. He finally turned on the meter, but that didn’t calm him down—quite the opposite. For the next half-hour, he ruined the ride by demanding extra fees here and there. Having dealt with several scam attempts last year in Vietnam, this wasn’t exactly new, and we were proud of ourselves for staying pretty zen. Still, this guy was a little scary—he was completely wired and aggressive. Honestly, it was hard not to think he was on something. He’d be perfect for a *Scarface* remake. When we finally arrived at the hotel, he followed us to the entrance. We paid the two tolls (25 and 45 baht), gave him the usual 100 baht extra for the ride, and stayed polite but firm. So, meter: 245 baht + 100 baht + 25 and 45 baht for tolls—we paid the exact amount, no way we were tipping this guy. He left furious, but he was already like that before picking us up... Anyway, avoid Mr. Chartree Chidchen, number 089 826 7308, car E2663!
We were so relieved to finally settle in at Feung Nakorn Balcony hotel in the temple district. 42 € per night, great reception, all the staff is friendly. The AC works fine, the bed seemed hard at first but turned out to be comfortable. The hotel is quiet, away from the nightlife, but at this time of year, many places are less crowded than in high season. Even with a nice fish pond and outdoor breakfast area, it’s a decent hotel, though we felt we could’ve found something better.
After a night on the plane, the first afternoon is always a bit of a slog. We napped for a few hours, and when we woke up—guess what—we were starving. We visited a temple across from the hotel (nothing special) and then decided to take the Chao Phraya Express, the river shuttle that serves many piers along the river. It was a really enjoyable experience. The steel gangway wobbles when you board and disembark, the boat sits low in the water, and sometimes you get splashed. During peak times, you’re packed in like sardines, but most of all, there’s that exotic urban landscape passing by, especially the temple rooftops.
At that exact moment, the boat was packed. We didn’t see a ticket booth at the pier, and we tried in vain to pay the few baht for the ride. The cashier on the boat was too busy, and another employee we called didn’t have time to help us. Oh well, we weren’t going to force the issue. Still, this mode of transport is super practical for avoiding traffic, and at the piers, the lines with station names are clearly marked, with colors matching the flags on the boats. Combined with a map like the *Routard* guide, it’s easy to navigate.
We easily made it to the restaurant *Harmonique*, located near one of these piers. It’s a unanimous favorite on this forum, and let us tell you—it’s well-deserved. What a wonderful experience that evening! We only saw the outdoor gazebo because there was no way we were dining inside. It’s not flashy, so those looking for a luxurious setting should look elsewhere.
That night, the staff was a bit slow, and we had to track them down several times to move things along. But oh, my friends—what a feast on the plate! Start with the appetizer platter for two at 250 baht, featuring four specialties, each more tempting than the last, followed by their famous crab curry for 200 baht. There’s *so much* crab in there! The dish is so delicious and rich that when you finish, you feel—how to put it—like it was almost *too* good, to the point where you’re almost put off eating for days. And also, oh yes, we *will* be back. Their satay chicken is just as amazing, and it would be a crime not to mention their generous dessert with ice cream, warm banana, and chocolate, plus their *excellent* almond milkshake.
Later, we took a taxi to Kao San Road, mainly to book a Ko Tao-Chumphon trip for 600 baht per person at the Lomprayah counter. In hindsight, we should’ve booked all three of our trips there right away.
Kao San Road is *ultra*-touristy—better for younger crowds, but it’s still worth seeing. There’s rock ‘n’ roll, hippies, and crowds everywhere.
We walked back to the hotel, and when we got a little lost near a canal, a really nice older Thai man spontaneously appeared out of the night to kindly point us in the right direction.
Finally, a real long night of sleep ahead—we cranked up the AC. Sweet, the vacation has begun!
Hi there,
I just got back from a trip to Sri Lanka from December 18th to January 1st with 2 adults and 2 kids (12 years old).
If it helps, here’s my itinerary.
We left on December 18th from Madrid with Qatar Airways. No complaints. I booked my tickets back in March for 800 € per person. (I flew from Madrid because I live near the Spanish border and was too worried about strikes in France.)
We arrived on December 19th at 4 PM (local time). Before leaving France, I’d booked a taxi through MyTransfer for 59 € to Sigiriya. A van was waiting for us at the airport exit.
A never-ending 3-hour drive to Sigiriya. We stayed at Samana Guesthouse—very simple, clean, with a pool and an excellent Sri Lankan breakfast. Shower and straight to bed.
Friday, December 20th: Beautiful weather, but very humid and hot. We visited Lion Rock (36 € for adults) and then Pidurangala.
I loved both sites—they’re a must-do in my opinion.
Spent the late afternoon by the pool.
Saturday, December 21st: Another gorgeous day. The guesthouse manager offered us a free 2-hour tuk-tuk tour. We first visited a lake, rice fields, the temple, and the Sigiriya market, plus the usual tourist trap—the botanical garden (no pressure to buy anything at the end).
Then we took a tuk-tuk to Dambulla Temple, the Golden Buddha, and the wholesale market.
Sunday, December 22nd: Still beautiful weather. I’d booked a taxi for 8 AM. We did all the long trips by taxi to save time. I’d ask for prices from 2 or 3 WhatsApp taxi agencies 2 days or the day before—super responsive, always got replies within 5 minutes. We headed to Ella (4-hour drive) for 22,000 LKR.
Arrived in the afternoon at Rest Full Homestay—a small, family-run guesthouse. Clean, cozy, and an amazing Sri Lankan breakfast.
In the afternoon, we went to Nine Arches Bridge. It was a Sunday, a Sri Lankan holiday, so it was *packed*—mostly locals and very few white tourists! Even though it was crowded, it was cool because it was all Sri Lankans. We waited an hour for the train. It’s worth seeing, but honestly, I didn’t think it was that amazing.
Then we headed to the station to check if we needed to book tickets for the train to Haputale—turns out, no.
Monday, December 23rd: Beautiful weather. We hiked Ella Rock—a gorgeous trek. The final stretch is steep but shaded, so it wasn’t as tough as I’d read. The whole hike is stunning from start to finish. We saw the train pass twice (one blue, one red) and lots of women picking tea.
After that, we did Little Adam’s Peak. It’s not hard, but it was *packed* with tourists—meh. Luckily, at the top, you can walk a bit farther (down one side and back up) to get some space to yourself.
What I *didn’t* like was the commercial vibe at the big café/restaurant with a pool at the entrance of Little Adam’s Peak. Loud music, all that money being made right next to little souvenir stands run by Sri Lankans or tea-picking women. Felt off.
Ended the day buying souvenirs at one of the few shops we found during the trip.
Tuesday, December 24th: Beautiful weather. Took the train to Haputale. We got to the station 30 minutes before the 9:30 AM train. We could’ve taken 2nd or 3rd class—I went with 2nd (160 LKR per person).
It was crowded, but we managed to get seats—first 2, then 3. Only a 1-hour ride, but I *loved* it—windows and doors open the whole time.
Arrived in Haputale around 11 AM, and the mist was already rolling in.
We walked to our guesthouse, The Mist Holiday Bungalow. Simple but clean, with a great view of the tea plantations. The owner’s wife is Vietnamese and used to work for French tour operators, so her French is still pretty good—helpful for us since our English is terrible. They booked us a tuk-tuk for 4:45 AM the next day (2,000 LKR) to Lipton’s Seat.
Spent the afternoon wandering around Haputale. Not much charm, but there’s a nice fruit and veggie market and a short walk through the tea plantations.
Wednesday, December 25th: Beautiful weather. The tuk-tuk was on time to take us to Lipton’s Seat. We were the first ones there—the sky was just starting to turn pink. In the end, only about ten of us watched the sunrise. The guesthouse had packed us breakfast, and we walked back down (half on the road, half through the plantations). Didn’t see any tea picking since it was Christmas, but the walk was still incredible. We took detours through villages full of kids.
After that, we visited the tea factory. The tour was really interesting, and we took the bus back down to Haputale. Such a great moment—whole families were heading to mass, dressed up and made up. All so beautiful.
At noon, we left for Udawalawe National Park. Taxi for 14,000 LKR. Stayed at River Inn Safari Cottage. *Warning*: It’s the same place as Eagle Safari Cottage. I don’t recommend it. We’d always stayed with families before, but here it was just staff—totally different vibe. The pool was nice but not very clean (water was murky). The bungalow was big and fine, but it was brand new—so new the asphalt floor wasn’t fully dry. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so we had to eat on-site. Couldn’t leave a review on Booking because they never confirmed we’d stayed, and they canceled our reservation the next day.
Thursday, December 26th: Beautiful weather. I’d booked a safari through the hotel for 5:30–10 AM for 54 USD. Honestly, yes, there are a lot of jeeps, but it was great. The kids loved it—we saw everything there was to see.
Left by taxi at 11:30 AM for Welligama (12,000 LKR).
We didn’t stay in Welligama city but at Coconut Beach, between Welligama and Midigama. *Total crush* on the guesthouse: Sky Mountain Café with View. Such a lovely family. The mom makes amazing meals at reasonable prices. The view from the hill over the sea is unreal.
Spent the afternoon walking along the beach.
Friday, December 27th: Beautiful weather. My kids are surfers. Unfortunately, there weren’t any boards their size to rent at Coconut, so we took a tuk-tuk to Welligama Bay (1,000 LKR). They surfed from 8 AM to 5 PM—rental was 5,000 LKR for the day. Meanwhile, we walked the beach and swam. Water was 29°C.
Saturday, December 28th: Beautiful weather, rain from 4 PM until midnight. Same surf day. They were so well-behaved the whole trip, so this was their reward.
Sunday, December 29th: Beautiful weather. Beach day at Coconut. *Warning*: It’s a reef break. For surfers, there are three spots (Coconut Left, Middle, and Right). The boys bodysurfed (with fins) all morning, and at 1 PM, we took the bus to Hikkaduwa.
Stayed at Hotel Universal Beach. Nothing special—right on the water, but the rooms were dark even though they were clean. The manager was super nice, but the rest was meh, and breakfast was mediocre compared to what we’d had before (2 eggs and 3 slices of toast). Plus, it was late—8 AM.
First impression of Hikkaduwa wasn’t great—way too many Russians for our taste.
Monday, December 30th: Beautiful weather. Spent the whole day exploring. Turtle Beach, then the other side of the beach (toward Galle) near the fishing port. The beach there is much wider, with scattered hotels and super quiet. It’s beautiful—I should’ve booked somewhere in that area. Ended up having a great day away from the crowds.
Tuesday, December 31st: Overcast, then beautiful, rain at 4 PM. Had to end the year (and the trip) with some surf. Rented boards for the kids (3,000 LKR per board for the day). Bad luck—the waves were on a reef break but small. Not great for them, but no big deal. They still got out of the water by 2 PM. Walked the beach (which is gorgeous), had a juice, and went for a swim. Then back to surfing in the rain at 4 PM.
Wednesday, January 1st: Left by taxi at 5 AM (18,000 LKR). Flight at 10 AM. Arrived in Madrid at 8 PM.
I could have titled my travel journal like Carmen: "Some trips are born twice." Indeed, we had considered this destination back in February 2020. However, an honest tour operator advised us against traveling at that time due to the climate. So, we gave up and opted for Guatemala instead (see "On the Mayan Lands" on this site).
So, why this title? When I was in primary school, over 65 years ago, the illustrations in my history books (Machu Picchu) and geography books (Lake Titicaca) made me dream, and those images stayed in my mind. It took until 2026 to finally make this dream come true!
We prepared our trip with Tout Pérou, a French-speaking "agency." Everything was handled via email and WhatsApp exchanges with our contact: Laurent, who was both competent, friendly, and full of good advice.
For 200 €, Tout Pérou provided us with drivers and guides whenever we wanted, helped us buy our domestic flights (cheaper when purchased in Peru), booked shuttles between airports and hotels, and got us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, as well as on the buses between Chivay and Puno and between Puno and Cusco. In short, Laurent took care of all the logistics and the Machu Picchu tickets. It was up to us to book our hotels. Tout Pérou provided a list, but we weren’t obliged to follow it. Another advantage of the package: we didn’t have to pay in advance; we paid the service providers directly day by day.
We didn’t meet Laurent in person because he was on vacation in Europe. Before his departure, he gave us a briefing, provided a summary table with the entire program, the service providers, their phone numbers, their fees, the schedules, and gave us plenty of advice (money, exchange, safety, etc.). After returning at the end of our stay, he kept checking in on us.
Lastly, we had also gathered information from Arnaud Lagadec, who runs a hotel in Cusco and offers tours of the region. He gave us a lot of useful information. Another contact: Thomas Montaigne, very friendly, who runs an agency in Arequipa (Agence Pérou Exclusif).
Day 1 – Paris to Lima
Foreword
I’ll share our trip without any pretension—I don’t have the talent of some contributors on this forum—and I’ll illustrate it with a few photos (taken with an ordinary smartphone). My comments are personal and only reflect my own views. So, please be kind! Feel free to comment on my story as you like, but let’s avoid pointless debates.
Even though we live in the south of the Paris region, true to our habits when the flight is in the morning, we chose to spend the night before our departure in a hotel near CDG and parked our car in a parking lot in Garches. This way, we avoid the stress that often comes with traveling around Paris (accidents, roadworks, traffic jams, etc.).
Check-in and border control went smoothly on that Sunday morning. Our Air France flight was uneventful. In Lima, border control took a particularly long time, and for the first time, we didn’t get an entry visa stamped in our passports.
As planned, a driver took us to the Miraflores district, where our hotel was located. We were surprised by the numerous signs about possible tsunamis, having forgotten that Peru is prone to such events and regularly experiences earthquakes. We’d see the consequences of these during our journey.
Exhausted from the early wake-up, the 13-hour flight, and the 7-hour time difference, we had dinner at the hotel before a restful night.
Note that this day was Peru’s presidential election day. As a result, we weren’t served beer—the sale of alcohol was banned that Sunday.
We did the Langtang trek (hike) from September 10th to 17th, with the first and last days being the trip from Kathmandu and back—so 6 days of actual walking. It’s a fairly well-known trek but certainly not as famous or crowded as those in the Annapurna or Everest regions, which is why we chose it.
In theory, it’s mandatory to have a guide for this trek. In reality, it seems there are ways to bypass the regulations: we met at least two people hiking without a guide—a South Korean, a New Zealander, and possibly also a couple of English women and an American couple, though we’re not sure if they had a guide.
The agency we booked with had told us it was an affordable trek for relatively older people in good shape—which is our case (I’m 72 myself). I have to say upfront that we found it quite challenging, maybe because we didn’t have good weather—it was the end of the monsoon season. To be clear, no matter your fitness level, I’d say doing this trek in the middle of the monsoon season would be suicidal.
Day 1 – Journey from Kathmandu to Syapru Besi
On Monday, September 8th, there had been violent protests in Kathmandu against the government, which had, among other things, blocked access to social media and been accused of nepotism and corruption. There were 19 deaths. The situation was very tense on the day of our departure, Wednesday the 10th. The agency warned us that public transport was very unreliable. So, we decided to take a jeep, at an additional cost of $100 ($160 minus what was already budgeted for the bus).
We left a little before 7 a.m. and it took us a good hour just to reach the outskirts of Kathmandu. Along the way, we saw several houses and vehicles set on fire by protesters.
The road to Syapru Besi is only 120 km, but it’s frankly awful. It’s always narrow, winds through endless mountains, and the shoulders range from bad to confusing to nonexistent. Several sections are just dirt tracks. We didn’t regret opting for the jeep, as we could stop several times at our convenience—if only to let Y (my Thai partner) throw up everything she had. She’d taken her usual motion sickness medication, but the constant turns, accelerations, and braking eventually made her terribly carsick.
In Nuwakot, we stopped for breakfast at a nice little restaurant, Jimbu. It was around 8:30 a.m., and we’d barely covered 60 km. The restaurant has a lovely garden overlooking the Trishuli Ganga, the river flowing down from Syapru Besi. First photo: the river in the bottom right corner, mist and clouds over the mountain on the other side.
An hour later, my second photo: the hills along the Trishuli Ganga. You can see the different crops—lush green rice paddies in the lower right and corn, already yellowed and likely harvested, in the foreground on the left. And of course, the mist and clouds through which you can glimpse the mountain on the other side of the river.
When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”
This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...
Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.
Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!
La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.
Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.
Some practical info:
- The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side.
- We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €.
- The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen.
- Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day.
- Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.
Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.
Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.
Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
It’s an ancient city that breathes, a living spring.
Here, no kitschy signs like “I miss you in Fengyu,” nor mass-produced fake antiques.
The century-old houses still bear the marks of wind and rain; in the morning, you hear roosters crowing, and at dusk, smoke gently rises from the kitchens.
This city doesn’t try to please anyone—like the spring water flowing through it, it simply keeps living at its own pace.
Located in Eryuan County, in the Dali Prefecture of Yunnan, the ancient town of Fengyu is a nationally designated historical and cultural city. It’s nicknamed the “land of scholars and ink”—during the Qing Dynasty, the Fengxiang Academy produced four *jinshi* and eleven *juren* in the imperial examinations. The Bai families made studying and farming a true legacy. Even on market days, you’ll find stalls of calligraphy and paintings, while lintels and screen walls are covered with family mottos.
Fengyu was also an important stop on the ancient Tea Horse Road. It preserves the second-largest Bai architectural complex in China, just after Xizhou. The famous traveler Xu Xiake spent seven days here and compared it to the “peach blossom paradise.”
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
Preamble:
Africa was calling to me, so a year ago, with our usual travel companions, we decided to return to the continent we love so much.
Where to go?
Uganda quickly caught our attention—wildlife we’re used to seeing, plus gorillas and the shoebill we missed in Zambia.
We got in touch with Paul, who’s been mentioned several times on the forum back in September, booked our flight tickets, secured the gorilla permits, and by early October, the most important things were done.
We still had plenty of time to hold our "prep meetings" for the final itinerary.
Three days before departure, I sprained my ankle (my weak spot, as you’ll recall from our Colombia trip).
I wasn’t in great spirits, but after a year of waiting, nothing was going to stop me.
We’d see how it goes!
Off we went for our new adventures
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
It often happens that we're asked what to visit in Belgium.
And the answers usually point to Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, and Brussels—and rightly so, as these cities are well worth visiting ;).
However, Belgium, though small, isn’t just limited to these four cities.
I live in one of them (Brussels), enjoy spending time in the other three, but I’d like to highlight some lesser-known spots that could add to the trip for those who want to see a bit more or something different.
Between trips, I like exploring one or two corners of the country where I live.
Hence the idea for a travel journal of walks.
Most of the places I’ll talk about can be visited as a day trip from Brussels, whether by public transport or car.
In chronological order of the topics covered:
- The Gileppe Dam (Liège province) - message 2, page 1
- The Domaine de La Hulpe (Walloon Brabant) - message 3, page 1
- Mechelen (Antwerp province) - message 4, page 1
- The coast - message 5, page 1
- The Westhoek, from De Panne - message 6, page 1
- The Zwin, from Knokke - message 7, page 1
- Lier (between Mechelen and Antwerp) - message 8, page 1
- Mons (Hainaut) - message 9, page 1
- The Florenville region - message 12, page 1
- The East Cantons - message 13, page 1
- Dinant - message 18, page 1
- The Japanese garden in Hasselt - message 24, page 2
- Leuven - message 29, page 2
- Louvain-la-Neuve - message 32, page 2
- Ostend - message 42 (page 3) and message 166 (page 9)
- The floralies of Groot-Bijgaarden - message 43, page 3
- Halle Forest - message 44, page 3
- Pralines - message 54, page 3
- Charleroi - message 68, page 4
- Namur - message 92, page 5
- Le Bois du Cazier (Marcinelle) - message 95, page 5
- Couques and gosettes - message 96, page 5
- Liège - message 99, page 5
- Tournai - message 115, page 6
- Oudenaarde - message 121, page 7
- Meise Botanical Garden - message 124, page 7
- Tongeren - message 125, page 7
- Beersel Castle (Flemish Brabant) - message 126, page 7
- Brussels in lockdown (messages 150 and 154, page 8)
- Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital in Lessines (messages 161 and 162, page 9)
- Westende (message 167, page 9)
I’ll keep updating this list as the journal progresses...
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
A little sneak peek?