J’étais déjà allé une fois en Corée du Sud, en 2002, un an avant de rendre visite à son homologue nordiste, et il faut bien reconnaître que j’avais gardé une opinion plutôt négative de ce pays. Je ne m’étais pas promis de ne jamais y retourner, mais je l’avais trouvé insipide, peu accueillant et somme toute, peu intéressant à visiter. Plus tard, au fil des années, la Corée du Nord et le Yanbian m’ont réconcilié avec le monde coréen et bon an mal an, j’ai fini par oublier mes mauvais souvenirs sud-coréens. Mon intérêt pour la culture coréenne grandissant presque de jour en jour, un retour en Corée du Sud était inévitable, malgré l’intense propagande anti-sudiste qui a fini par m’imprégner à force de me plonger dans la littérature nord-coréenne.
Mais c’est l’amour du ski plus que l’amour de la Corée qui m’a ramené là-bas pour les vacances du Nouvel An chinois 2008. Vivre à Shanghai et être fou de ski est un gage certain de grande frustration car les pistes les plus proches sont bien loin de la grande métropole des plaines de Chine de l’Est, et les abondantes chutes de neige qui ont enseveli cette partie de la Chine peu avant les vacances étaient inexploitables en raison de l’absence de relief dans la région. Bref, si on veut partir au ski au départ de Shanghai, les options sérieuses ne sont pas si nombreuses que ça. On peut évacuer toutes les stations chinoises dont tous les témoignages concordent pour en souligner le manque d’intérêt et la petite taille, et il ne reste donc plus que le Japon et la Corée du Sud si on veut éviter les vols longs courriers. Ayant skié à Nagano il y a deux ans, la Corée du Sud semblait cette fois toute désignée pour assouvir ma passion, d’autant plus que le seul ami que j’ai réussi à convaincre de partir au ski avec moi voulait justement faire un tour dans ce pays. En ce qui me concerne, une réconciliation avec la Corée du Sud était-elle à la clé?
Le vol de Shanghai à Séoul Incheon sur Korean Airlines fut un des plus étonnants et agréables qu’il m’ait été donné de prendre au départ de la Chine, la raison principale en étant que le vol était presque vide. Cela est rare sur les vols internationaux en temps normal, mais un soir de départ en vacances, c’était presque exceptionnel. Y, l’ami qui m’accompagnait lors de ce petit voyage, a même un instant soupçonné que je l’avais malicieusement dupé et que c’est en fait vers Pyongyang que nous volions. Aucun doute toutefois n’était permis, Korean Airlines ce n’est pas Air Koryo, et le Korean Herald remplace le Pyongyang Times tandis que les hôtesses en bleu servant de la bière sont moins avenantes que leurs cousines du nord toutes de rouge vêtues et distribuant une boisson très sucrée.
Le vol vers Séoul est très court. La Corée du Sud est en fait la plus proche destination internationale au départ de Shanghai, et un peu plus d’une heure et demie après avoir décollé, nous arrivions déjà à l’aéroport international de Incheon, déjà presque vide à cette heure tardive. Conformément à mes souvenirs, les gens ne souriaient pas et les policiers de l’immigration étaient plus grimaçants que leurs homologues chinois, assez semblables à leurs cousins du nord en fait.
Arrivés trop tard ou trop tôt pour attraper un bus vers le centre de Séoul, nous nous sommes résolus à prendre un taxi malgré le coût élevé que nous nous attendions à payer. Cela ne fut pas si douloureux que ça, mais la Corée du Sud est indubitablement un pays cher et Séoul fait d’ailleurs partie des villes classées parmi les plus chères au monde. Une fois dans les faubourgs de la ville, la première chose qui attira mon attention fut le nombre d’églises disséminées un peu partout. Cela m’avait déjà frappé en 2002, mais le choc fut à nouveau bien réel cette fois-ci. Des croix rouges illuminées dépassaient partout, signes les plus visibles de cette frénétique et abondante vie chrétienne qui est une des marques de fabrique de la Corée du Sud. A Pyongyang, ce sont les portraits illuminés du Grand Leader qui se détachent dans la nuit. A Séoul, ce sont ces manifestations d’une autre forme de culte idéologique.
Nous avons fini par arriver à notre hôtel situé à deux pas du cœur de Séoul, l’hôtel de ville, et réservé à un prix plutôt attractif sur Internet. Le lendemain matin, je me suis réveillé assez tôt et suis sorti me promener en attendant que Y soit prêt lui aussi à découvrir la ville. Je n’avais en fait pas de souvenirs très précis de Séoul si ce n’est qu’elle ne m’avait pas particulièrement charmé lors de mon premier voyage. Séoul en cette veille de Nouvel An chinois allait toutefois me réserver une surprise de taille puisqu’elle était vide. Tout ou presque était fermé, seules quelques rares voitures rompant le silence matinal au milieu de grandes avenues quasiment désertes, et peu de piétons arpentant les trottoirs du cœur de la ville. Etait-ce là une capitale asiatique de plus de dix millions d’habitants ou une étonnante ville fantôme désertée par sa population laissant derrière elle les symboles de sa prospérité? En fait, la seule capitale asiatique que j’ai déjà visitée et qui soit aussi morte, déserte, silencieuse et monumentale, c’est… Pyongyang. Décidément, je ne m’attendais pas à constater autant de similitudes entre les deux Corées que tout est supposé opposer.
Ben faudra que tu me dises comment tu as fait car j y suis alle en janvier et les gens etant franchement desagreables et les villes nulles, un voyage prevu en 21 jours s est termine en 9 jours. Reste la bouffe excellente.
Moi qui m etais fais une joie de decouvrir un autre pays avant de retourner au Japon, quelle deception!
Une fois en ordre de bataille pour affronter le froid seouliote, nous nous sommes mis en route pour essayer de glaner des informations sur les séjours au ski à Yongpyong, la principale station de ski du pays. Nous n'avions en effet rien réservé sur internet, les prix astronomiques proposés pour l'hébergement à Yongpyong ainsi que les forfaits remontées et équipement étant à la limite de l'inabordable.
Ce faisant, nous sommes passés par la toute proche place de l'hôtel de ville qui arborait un ballon de football géant en 2002, pour célébrer l'organisation de la coupe du monde de ce même sport. En ce début 2008, c'est une patinoire à ciel ouvert qui avait remplacé le monument footballistique, et quelques courageux sportifs matinaux commençaient à parcourir la piste glacée. La ville était presqu'aussi vide que quand j'étais sorti un peu plus tôt et cette première impression de Séoul fut franchement négative, les quelques habitants croisés de ci de là étant réellement peu souriants.
Une première agence de voyage nous a indiqué que tout était complet à Yongpyong et que nous ne pourrions pas trouver de logement sur place. Ainsi donc, voilà où devaient être tous les habitants de Séoul. Mes calculs s'étaient donc révélés archi-faux. Je savais en effet que la Corée du Sud célébrait le nouvel an lunaire en même temps que la Chine et que cela donnait aussi lieu dans ce pays à quelques jours de vacances, mais, contrairement à la Chine où presque tout le monde reste à la maison avec sa famille pendant cette fête, les sud-coréens préfèrent rejoindre leurs lieux de villégiature préférés, certes parfois en famille, mais loin du foyer. Il était d'ailleurs surprenant de constater que dans les rues de Séoul, absolument rien sinon la désertification de la ville ne laissait supposer que nous étions à quelques heures à peine du passage à l'année du rat. Tandis que la Chine se parait de lanternes et de banderoles rouges omniprésentes au son des pétards à la cadence de plus en plus rapprochée, seuls quelques timides dessins de souris apparaissaient de temps en temps dans les vitrines fermées de Séoul. Surprenant de constater à quel point une même fête peut être célébrée différemment par deux pays aussi proches.
Toujours est-il que la Corée, pays du matin frais (souvent traduit à tort par pays du matin calme), méritait plus que jamais son nom ce jour-là, même si la Corée du Sud usurpe cette appellation qui ne devrait être réservée qu'à la Corée du Nord. Petite explication politico-linguistique: la Corée a porté plusieurs noms dans son histoire. Joson (ou Choson, encore parfois écrit différemment), prononciation coréenne du chinois Chaoxian, est l'appellation la plus répandue. C'est ce terme qui veut littéralement dire matin frais. Lorsque les deux Corées ont connu des destins politiques divergents, la Corée du Nord a continué à s'appeler Joson, tandis que la Corée du Sud s'est appelée Hanguk (le pays de Han). De fait, la Corée du Sud ne mérite plus le titre de pays du matin frais. Les sud-coréens sont d'ailleurs assez sensibles sur cette question. Les quelques rudiments de coréen que j'ai appris au contact de nord-coréens et de littérature linguistique nord-coréenne m'ont permis de prononcer certaines phrases comme "je ne comprends pas le coréen". Seulement voilà, le simple mot "coréen" se dit différemment au nord et au sud, puisque le nom du pays est lui-même différent. Le fait de prononcer cette phrase à la nordiste a donc systématiquement provoqué chez mes interlocuteurs du Sud des sourires génés, des corrections, voire des interrogations: mais pourquoi parles-tu comme les nord-coréens?
Et pour clore ce chapitre linguistique, comme je l'ai dit, mon coréen n'est que balbutiant et ne me permet même pas d'avoir des conversations simples, mais le fait de connaître l'alphabet coréen ainsi que la langue chinoise m'a permis de pouvoir déchiffrer un grand nombre d'indications écrites. La moitié du vocabulaire coréen dérivant du chinois, il est parfois assez facile de deviner le sens de certains mots, étant entendu que l'alphabet coréen est enfantin à apprendre.
Cette semaine en Corée du Sud fut donc placée sous le signe de l'obsession des comparaisons avec les trois voisins chinois, nord-coréen et japonais. La Corée du Sud, un pays à l'identité bien plus affirmée qu'on pourrait le croire au premier abord, est toutefois bien plus qu'une synthèse de tout cela.
Toujours et encore dans le registre linguistique, j'ai été littéralement séduit par la langue coréenne comme je l'ai rarement été par une autre langue. Il est même surprenant que cela m'ait échappé lors de mon voyage de 2002. Certes, cela ne fut pas une découverte car je m'étais déjà longuement imprégné de cette langue par le biais de mes fréquentations, lectures et écoutes nord-coréennes. Après tout la langue est plus ou moins la même dans les deux pays, et j'avais même commencé à l'apprendre "à la nordiste". Mais en Corée du Sud j'ai eu l'occasion de redécouvrir cette langue coréenne sous un jour nouveau, et de l'apprécier d'une manière différente et complémentaire. Ce qui m'avait séduit dans la langue coréenne, telle qu'employée au Nord, était sa force et les envolées lyriques qu'elle permettait. Qui n'a jamais entendu un discours nord-coréen ne saurait comprendre l'émotion qui s'en dégage, l'enchaînement des syllabes alternant cassures franches et liaisons harmonieuses étant - à mon goût - hautement esthétiques. Bien différente est la sensation que l'on éprouve en écoutant les sud-coréens employer cette même langue au quotidien. Le coréen devient alors très doux, encore plus musical et sans aucun son qui jure à l'oreille occidentale. Les formules de politesse les plus simples deviennent alors de petites merveilles que l'on se plait à écouter, provoquer et imiter. A la fin du séjour, Y et moi nous amusions à provoquer le plus souvent possible ces situations où un(e) sud-coréen(ne) nous répondrait par nos formules préférées. Si j'avais besoin d'un coup de fouet pour me remotiver à apprendre le coréen, fût-il nordiste, ce séjour en Corée du Sud tomba à pic!
Contrairement à une opinion bizarrement répandue, je n'hésite donc plus une seconde à qualifier la langue coréenne d'une des plus agréables au monde à écouter. Rien à voir en tout cas avec le japonais monocorde et saccadé et le chinois criard et vulgaire.
Je referme cette longue parenthèse linguistique pour reprendre le fil du voyage, et notamment notre quête d'un bon plan pour partir skier dans des conditions optimales. Nous avons fini par échouer à l'office du tourisme de Séoul où nous avons été admiratifs devant la gentillesse et le professionnalisme du personnel. Une bouffée d'air frais après ces quelques mauvaises impressions sur la population sud-coréenne. S'il nous a bien été confirmé que tous les hébergements étaient complets à Yongpyong en raison des vacances nationales, mon plan B fut des plus faciles à mettre en oeuvre, à savoir tout simplement se loger dans la ville voisine de Gangneung. Je n'ai pas l'habitude d'avoir recours à des offices du tourisme car leur aide n'est en général d'aucune utilité, mais là, je dois bien reconnaître que la dame qui nous accueillit nous dispensa de forts judicieux conseils sur tout ce que nous avions besoin de savoir pour optimiser notre petit périple. Difficile d'imaginer un tel professionnalisme en Chine!
En attendant les réponses aux questions que nous ne nous posions pas, nous avons jeté un coup d'oeil à ce fameux office du tourisme dont une salle entière était remplie de figurines en carton représentant des acteurs ou vedettes sud-coréens connus, avec qui l'on peut ainsi poser en photo. Les sud-coréens sont des fanas de soap operas et la production télévisuelle de ce pays s'exporte très bien dans le reste de l'Asie. Le star-system prend donc en Corée du Sud des proportions rarement égalées ailleurs, ils s'agit d'un phénomène de société tout à fait remarquable, que l'on pourrait presque comparer au... culte de la personnalité en vigueur dans l'autre Corée. Et oui, on y revient toujours! Les coréens ont-ils donc tant que ça besoin d'aduler quelqu'un, de placer des sur-hommes sur un piédestal?
....tu pourrais faire des efforts, je sais pas, moi, prendre des vitamines ou même des excitants, bien te chauffer les doigts, et hop, tu écris tout d'un coup............ et comme ça on ne serait pas frustré en attendant la suite.............
Une fois tous ces détails pratiques réglés, il fallait passer à des activités autrement plus divertissantes, au premier rang desquelles manger. Oui, c'est un de mes passe-temps favoris, que je sois en voyage ou non. Et la nourriture coréenne, que je n'avais pas du tout aimée lors de mon premier voyage, avait su m'apprivoiser par la suite, notamment dans les restaurants nord-coréens que je fréquente souvent à Shanghai. La cuisine des deux Corées étant supposée être la même, je devais donc en toute logique passer un bon séjour au Sud, gastronomiquement parlant. Et puis cette fois, contrairement à 2002, je connaissais des noms de plats et je savais lire l'alphabet, je devais donc éviter les catastrophes culinaires qui avaient émaillé mon parcours il y a 6 ans. L'autre bonne nouvelle, c'est que les menus des restaurants ont eu le temps d'évoluer durant cette période. Dorénavant, photos des plats et traductions en anglais sont monnaie courante, et il est donc beaucoup moins excusable de se retrouver avec des incongruités dans l'assiette (de ce point de vue, mon premier voyage avait été cauchemardesque!).
Mais le premier repas à Séoul ne fut pas facile à organiser car il fallait trouver un restaurant ouvert. Ah ça, des restaurants, il y en avait un paquet dans le quartier de notre hôtel, on n'aurait eu que l'embarras du choix en temps normal. Mais là, tout était fermé sans exception à part un ou deux fast-foods occidentaux. Pas très réjouissant pour une première approche! Finalement, nous avons été aiguillés vers un quartier pas trop éloigné où, normalement, nous devrions trouver des portes ouvertes. Suspense, allait-il être aussi difficile de trouver à manger à Séoul qu'à Pyongyang?
Nous avons facilement trouvé cette zone piétonne non loin du magasin Lotte et avons en effet apprécié un visage plus accueillant de Séoul. Il y avait même quelques piétons dans ce quartier! Il serait exagéré de dire qu'il était animé, mais au moins, l'atmosphère pesante et silencieuse de la ville déserte s'y était dissipée. Et, en effet, il y avait quelques restaurants ouverts. Le problème, c'était les prix affichés sur les menus qui étaient absolument prohibitifs. Manger à Séoul semblait revenir plus cher que manger au restaurant à Paris! Et ne parlons même pas des restaurants coréens de Shanghai, beaucoup plus abordables. Finalement, il s'est avéré que nous avons d'abord jeté un coup d'oeil aux plus onéreux, car un peu plus loin, d'autres restaurants proposaient des prix certes relativement élevés, mais abordables. Nous en avons rapidement choisi un.
Ce qui est étonnant dans la plupart des restaurants où nous sommes allés, c'est le petit nombre de plats proposés. Rien à voir avec l'abondance et l'épaisseur des menus des restaurants nord-coréens que je fréquente, ce qui n'est pas un mince paradoxe! Nous avons rapidement identifié le bulgogi sur le petit menu, une délicieuse fondue de boeuf qui est un des plats coréens préférés et qui peut se cuisiner de mille et une façons. Il fut toutefois extrêmement difficile de poser des questions à la serveuse qui bredouillait autant de mots d'anglais que moi de coréen. Mais la conversation prit un tour bien plus intéressant quand Y, par inadvertence ou par lassitude, laissa échapper quelques mots en chinois. La serveuse nous répondit alors dans un excellent chinois! Et pour cause, elle était chinoise! Cela nous a beaucoup amusé, d'autant plus qu'elle n'était pas la seule chinoise à travailler dans ce restaurant. Et cela nous a encore plus fait rire quand la même expérience s'est reproduite le lendemain dans un autre restaurant de Séoul où, cette fois, les chinoises étaient majoritaires! Mais rassurons nous, il s'agissait d'authentique cuisine coréenne. La plupart de ces chinoises viennent de la région du Yanbian, le district coréen du nord-est de la Chine où je m'étais déjà rendu par deux fois. Beaucoup d'habitants du Yanbian sont bilingues chinois-coréen et il est donc naturel que des liens existent tant avec la Corée du Nord qu'avec la Corée du Sud. Dans le Yanbian, j'avais d'ailleurs rencontré des gens qui m'avaient raconté avoir travaillé plusieurs années à Séoul avant de rentrer au pays avec un petit pécule.
Il y a donc un intéressant flux qui s'est mis en place entre les trois parties de la Corée: les nord-coréens fuient vers le Yanbian où ils trouvent à manger, les habitants du Yanbian partent travailler en masse en Corée du Sud où ils ont de meilleurs salaires, et que font les sud-coréens à votre avis? Et bien ils lorgnent de plus en plus vers la Corée du Nord en laquelle ils voient un nouvel eldorado pour l'investissement bon marché, et commencent à prendre position dans le pays. Là aussi pour des raisons principalement économiques.
Une fois ingurgité ce bon déjeuner, nous avons entrepris de faire un peu de tourisme. En quoi consiste faire du tourisme à Séoul? Probablement à aller jeter un coup d'oeil discret aux quelques monuments anciens - il y en a - que compte la ville. Direction d'abord Dongdaemun, la grande porte de l'Est, que je n'avais pas visitée en 2002. Dans le quartier de Dongdaemun, un marché à ciel ouvert répertorié comme "attraction" attirait un grand nombre de badauds malgré le froid et le vent. Sur ce marché, un nombre étonnant d'étrangers, principalement africains et centre-asiatiques, vaquaient à leurs occupations. Etaient-ce des ouzbeks? J'étais tenté de le croire, le visage de nombre d'entre eux étant assez représentatif de ce pays, et les dentitions en or ne trompant pas. Toutefois, absolument rien d'intéressant sur ce marché qui avait sans doute pour seul mérite de proposer aux coréens modestes des articles quotidiens à prix raisonnables.
Après ce petit tour, le métro nous emmena à Namdaemun, la grande porte Sud, qui m'avait beaucoup plu il y a six ans. Namdaemun est une belle construction en pierre et en bois et date d'il y a 600 ans. Elle est considérée comme le trésor historique numéro 1 de Corée du Sud. En en faisant le tour et en la photographiant, j'ignorais qu'elle vivait ses derniers instants, mais j'en parlerai plus loin...
J'aime bien le quartier de Namdaemun, c'est là que j'avais logé en 2002 et le quartier était un des plus pittoresques de Séoul avec son tout proche marché homonyme. Cette fois-là, que des vêtements et des articles quoditiens sur le marché de Namdaemun, aucun stand de nourriture proposant quelques unes de ces incongruités que j'adore ne pas manger, mais où j'avais trouvé l'ambiance plutôt chaleureuse lors de mon dernier voyage. En arpentant les rues du quartier de Namdaemun, je me suis instantanément remémoré des souvenirs et ai vite retrouvé mes repères, comme si ma longue absence avait été beaucoup plus courte.
Nous nous sommes ensuite rendus à la toute proche gare ferroviaire et y avons croisé un de ces phénomènes qui hante les rues de Séoul. Nous appellerons ces intéressants specimens les "jesus" (à prononcer avec l'accent américain). Ces sud-coréens bizarrement vêtus et affublés de pancartes et de grandes croix exhortant à la conversion au chritianisme interpellent les passants pour leur crier que Jésus les aime et qu'il faut croire en lui. Ce premier jesus ne fut pas le plus drôle (le lendemain, nous en avons croisé un exceptionnel) mais il nous amusa beaucoup. Mon ami fut tenté de crier "allah o akbar" (il est musulman) tandis que de mon côté la tentation fut très forte de crier un slogan à la gloire du Grand Leader du Nord. Mais dans une gare grouillant de policiers, j'avoue que je me suis dégonflé, et nous avons tout simplement rigolé en le regardant tandis qu'il lâcha un "god bless you". Outre ces jesus militant sans relâche pour sauver leurs compatriotes de l'enfer, on remarque de ci de là bon nombre de banderoles ou de pancartes dans les rues appelant à "croire en Jésus". Et il ne s'agit-là que de la partie anglophone de cette propagande, je n'ose imaginer leur abondance en coréen! Décidément, Séoul n'est pas tant différente que ça de Pyongyang. La propagande pour le Grand Leader Jesus Christ y a l'air presque aussi forte que pour le Grand Leader Kim Il Sung. Je ne sais pas laquelle est la plus ridicule. Kim Il Sung était sans doute plus cruel, mais au moins on est sûr qu'il a existé. Bref, c'est difficile à départager.
Nous avons repris le métro pour rejoindre le quartier de l'hôtel de ville. Je dois avouer que le métro de Séoul est très bien fait. Il n'est d'ailleurs pas sans rappeler le métro parisien, desservant absolument tous les quartiers de la ville, aucun endroit n'étant réellement éloigné d'une station de métro. Et puis les tickets du métro de Séoul sont des copies conformes des tickets parisiens, ils ont même gardé la couleur jaune qui fut longtemps emblématique de la RATP! Toujours dans ce métro, je suis tombé nez-à-nez sur une sud-coréenne dont la ressemblance avec une nord-coréenne de ma connaissance était vraiment troublante. Ce n'était pas elle, certes non, mais ça aurait très bien pu être sa soeur. Qui sait, peut-être s'agit-il d'une cousine éloignée, cela n'aurait rien d'impossible. De fait, mais cela n'a rien d'étonnant, j'ai remarqué pas mal de ressemblances entre les visages nord et sud coréens, même s'il est assez difficile d'exprimer ce qui fait leur différence. Sans doute le régime alimentaire et la gymnastique des traits du visage...
Le métro nous réserva toutefois une mauvaise surprise ce soir-là tandis que nous nous dirigions vers le quartier occidentalisé de Itaewon pour diner. Une ou deux stations avant d'arriver, tandis que Y et moi étions debout dans la rame et que nous ne faisions rien de particulier, un sud-coréen à l'autre bout du wagon s'est levé et s'est planté juste devant Y en le dévisageant avec un regard très méchant. Au bout d'une dizaine de secondes de ce petit jeu, ce fut à mon tour et il se planta devant moi, à quelques centimètres avec le même regard, tandis que je me demandais ce qu'il voulait. "Ne réagis surtout pas, il est bourré" me lâcha Y qui avait eu le temps de respirer son haleine éthylique. Lorsque nous fumes arrivés à destination, le sud-coréen fit un moment mine de nous empêcher de descendre mais nous avons pu le contourner. Une fois sur le quai, nous l'avons vu nous pointer du doigt en faisant signer de nous égorger. Cette anecdote, que nous avons racontée à des étrangers rencontrés plus tard et résidant en Corée du Sud, ne les étonna pas, ça leur arrive souvent. Il y a une réelle xénophobie anti-blancs en Corée du Sud, même si elle est heureusement confinée à une minorité de la population, et même si seule une minorité de cette minorité la manifeste publiquement. Cette xénophobie tient peut-être à la tradition isolationniste du royaume hermite et n'est pas sans rappeler celle qui prévaut en Corée du Nord où, malgré les discours de façade, le fond est souvent ouvertement raciste. Mais au Sud, elle tient tout aussi vraisemblablement à l'omniprésence américaine et au maintien de 30.000 GI's que l'on voit parfois se pavaner en ville et qui n'ont pas la réputation d'être des gentlemen. Je n'ai toutefois pas eu l'occasion de lancer les slogans anti-américains made in Corée du Nord que je suis capable de réciter en coréen.
A Itaewon, nous sommes tombés sur un restaurant marocain où j'ai dégusté un excellent couscous avant d'aller vider quelques verres au très proche et très cher bar de l'hôtel Hyatt (Y et moi avons décidé de nous venger d'une manière ou d'une autre de l'ami coréen de Shanghai qui nous avait recommandé cet endroit). Mais de toute façon, en cette veille de Nouvel An chinois, nous avons été incapables d'obtenir la moindre information sur là où il fallait être pour voir un peu d'animation. Apparemment rien ne se passait nulle part, et les quartiers supposés animés étaient désespérément vides.
Le lendemain matin, c'est tout seul que je suis parti me promener dans une Séoul toujours aussi glaciale et aussi déserte que la veille. Première destination, le palais de Gyeongbokgung que j'avais déjà visité en 2002 mais qu'il ne m'aurait pas déplu de revoir. Mais, peut-être en raison de l'heure matinale, celui-ci avait l'air fermé. Un peu plus à l'est, le palais de Changdeokgung n'avait encore jamais eu l'honneur de ma visite et j'ai donc projeté de m'y rendre. Celui-ci était ouvert mais à la billetterie, il m'a été précisé qu'il était obligatoire de faire la visite en groupe accompagné d'un guide, et que la prochaine visite pour anglophones aurait lieu une heure et demie plus tard. J'ai rétorqué que je trouvais la règle grotesque mais que comme je me fichais complètement des explications d'un guide je pouvais me joindre à un groupe de coréens, mais il me fut dit que ce n'était pas possible. Bon, j'avais oublié que la Corée du Sud ressemblait décidément beaucoup à sa soeur du Nord et qu'il était obligatoire de se déplacer accompagné d'un guide et qu'il était interdit pour un étranger de se mélanger aux coréens. Encore un peu plus à l'est, il restait encore le palais de Changyeonggung, le plus petit des trois, et dans celui-là, on ne me fit aucune histoire pour me laisser rentrer.
Le palais de Changyeonggung n'est pas très imposant, ce sont juste quelques bâtiments situés autour d'une première cour, et éparpillés dans le parc qui se trouve derrière. Néanmoins la promenade fut agréable car un certain nombre de familles coréennes étaient déjà sur les lieux en ce jour de Nouvel An lunaire. Pour l'occasion, beaucoup de femmes et d'enfants étaient habillés en tenue traditionnelle coréenne, le hanbok, que l'on ne voit en principe plus du tout en Corée du Sud et a fortiori à Séoul. En Corée du Nord, l'habit traditionnel se porte encore beaucoup, notamment à la moindre cérémonie ou occasion festive, mais c'est une véritable rareté au Sud. On m'a en effet confirmé plus tard que seule la période du Nouvel An lunaire offre ce genre de spectacle et que le reste de l'année, les sud-coréennes ne portent pas le hanbok. Ce vêtement s'achète ou se loue donc principalement pour cette occasion. Il faut reconnaître que la robe traditionnelle coréenne est souvent très belle, très colorée et grâcieuse. En hiver toutefois, il est impossible de ne pas la recouvrir d'un manteau, ce qui gâche le spectacle. J'ai même pu en voir quelques unes dans le centre-ville de Séoul, hors de ce parc il est vrai propice à ce genre de démonstration traditionnelle.
Les familles donc, outre le fait de se promener et de se montrer sous leurs plus beaux atours, jouent à des jeux coréens traditionnels tels une sorte de lancer de flèche à la main ou une toupie que l'on doit fouetter en permanence pour la faire tourner.
A l'heure du déjeuner j'ai retrouvé Y avec qui nous sommes retournés manger dans le quartier de la veille où, une fois encore, nous sommes tombés sur des serveuses chinoises, et où plusieurs jesus tentaient de convertir les passants. Il fut ensuite temps de nous rendre à la gare routière pour prendre un bus à destination de Gangneung, dans le nord-est du pays. La gare routière était pleine de monde, ce qui contrastait avec le reste de la ville, mais il nous fut facile d'acheter des billets pour un bus partant une vingtaine de minutes plus tard. Toutefois, le trajet qui aurait normalement dû prendre deux heures et demie en prit le double car nous avons finalement rencontré tous les habitants de Séoul qui avaient déserté la capitale: ils étaient en fait sur l'autoroute! Ce n'est qu'après trois ou quatre heures de bouchons que le bus a pu enclencher la deuxième et avancer à bonne allure vers notre destination. Assis en face de moi, un sud-coréen nous fit la conversation, ce qui nous changea de la froideur et de la discrétion habituelle de ses compatriotes. Détail amusant que j'ai remarqué à plusieurs reprises, une des premières choses que nous dit ce sud-coréen fut son travail, sans même qu'on lui ait demandé. Il semblerait que ce soit un quasi-réflexe chez les coréens ayant de bons métiers, en l'occurence ingénieur dans l'industrie des semi-conducteurs pour celui-ci.
Après ce long trajet, il faisait déjà nuit lorsque nous sommes arrivés à Gangneung où nous avons rapidement rejoint l'hôtel que nous avions réservé près de la gare routière. Cette partie de la ville n'était pas très avenante mais nous avons malgré tout trouvé un restaurant familial certes sympathique mais où les quelques plats proposés n'étaient pas très appétissants. Nous avons fait contre mauvaise fortune bon coeur en profitant du "confort" d'un repas pris sur une table basse, assis sur un coussin à même le sol comme il se doit dans tout restaurant traditionnel. Malgré une barrière linguistique encore plus forte qu'à Séoul - il n'y avait vraiment personne qui parlait anglais dans les environs - la population locale nous fit une meilleure impression qu'à Séoul. Plus souriante, plus maniérée, mais toujours aussi discrète et polie que dans la capitale. Nous sommes toutefois rapidement partis nous coucher car le lendemain matin il fallait se lever tôt pour aller skier!
Le lendemain matin, en sortant de l'hôtel, une voiture s'est arrêtée à notre hauteur et ses occupants occidentaux nous ont demandé le chemin de l'océan. Nous n'avons pas su leur répondre mais leur requête nous a bien fait rire: qui voudrait aller à la plage avec un froid pareil? Les gens sérieux viennent ici pour skier, un point c'est tout. Certainement des finlandais ou des suédois du nord!
Des navettes gratuites font la liaison entre Gangneung et Yongpyong aux heures où les skieurs commencent et finissent de skier. Nous avons malheureusement raté la navette matinale - ou plutôt nous n'avons pas réussi à savoir où elle s'arrêtait - et avons donc acheté un billet pour le village de Hoenggye, proche de la station. Après une petite demi-heure de route, nous avons donc été parachutés dans ce bled que je ne qualifierais pas de perdu au milieu de nulle part, car les magasins de location de skis et de snowboard y étaient omniprésents. La station n'était qu'à une dizaine de minutes de là mais encore fallait-il trouver la navette pour la rejoindre. Sur le chemin, de nombreuses pancartes Yongpyong 2014 rappelaient que la région s'était vue refuser deux fois d'affilée l'organisation des Jeux Olympiques d'hiver 2010 et 2014, au profit de Vancouver et Sotchi. Mais les pancartes n'avaient pas encore été retirées.
Nous avons aperçu sur la route un groupe de trois occidentaux dont un qui portait une planche de surf. Aucun doute, ils allaient forcément au même endroit que nous et ils devaient en savoir un peu plus sur la région, nous les avons donc rattrapés. Nous avons vite sympathisé avec C, l'américain, P, le sud-africain, et F, la néo-zélandaise qui effectivement étaient sur le chemin de Yongpyong. Tous trois vivaient dans la région où ils enseignaient l'anglais et C avait déjà fait l'acquisition d'une planche tandis qu'il emmenait ses deux amis vers un magasin où les prix étaient parait-il fort attractifs. Et pour cause, tandis que nous passions devant des étendues de poissons séchés et d'intéressantes sculptures sur glace, C nous expliqua que le magasin en question pouvait également vendre des forfaits remontées à prix cassés. Et effectivement, l'un dans l'autre, nous nous en sommes sortis pour un prix presqu'inférieur de moitié aux tarifs officiels. Ce détail sur lequel je m'apesantis depuis un moment a toute son importance car Yongpyong est une station hors de prix, bien plus que les stations japonaises ou alpines. Le moindre logement, s'il y en avait eu un de disponible, aurait été ruineux. Quant au forfait remontées journée, il faut compter une soixantaine de dollars pour une station de petite taille, à l'échelle française. Et la location de skis est en principe affichée à 26 dollars. Nagano était beaucoup moins cher que tout ça, ce qui est quand même surprenant. Mais je m'étais renseigné à l'avance sur ces questions et m'était résigné à payer le prix fort, faute d'avoir trouvé les bons plans dont je soupçonnais quand même l'existence. Cette rencontre avec C et ses amis tomba donc fort à propos. De ruineux, le séjour au ski allait donc être ramené à seulement plutôt cher.
J'ai donc skié pendant trois jours et demi à Yongpyong en faisant tous les jours l'aller-retour Gangneung - Hoenggye - Yongpyong. Voici donc les principales caractéristiques de cette station:
Yongpyong est la plus grande station sud-coréenne avec un dénivelé d'environ 700 mètres, 14 télésièges et un téléphérique. La piste la plus longue fait un peu plus de 5 kilomètres. C'est donc une station d'assez petite taille, même comparée aux stations japonaises qui ne sont pas des géantes non plus.
Le niveau des pistes est en général assez facile. Il n'y a pas de pistes réellement difficiles et les quelques pistes noires sont en fait plutôt des rouges. On imagine d'ailleurs mal où les épreuves olympiques auraient pu avoir lieu si la candidature de Yongpyong avait été retenue, mais je crois savoir que des projets d'aggrandissement du domaine skiable étaient à l'étude où cas où les Jeux auraient eu lieu là-bas.
C'était les vacances coréennes et la station fonctionnait donc à pleine capacité. Malgré tout, les queues aux remontées étaient raisonnables et à part pour le téléphérique dépassaient rarement cinq minutes. Le matin, il n'y avait d'ailleurs pas grand monde. De fait, la station semble très bien organisée et la masse de skieurs est bien gérée. Les pistes ne sont pas trop fréquentées, du moins celles situées vers le sommet. Il y avait plus d'étrangers que je ne l'avais imaginé, la plupart étant des anglo-saxons résidant en Corée du Sud.
La météo fut globalement bonne mais très variable, le grand bleu devant rapidement couvert voire neigeux. Les chutes ne neige n'ont toutefois pas été très violentes et il n'y a jamais eu de brouillard. Le thermomètre en bas des pistes indiquait entre - 12 et +1 degré, mais je n'ai pas ressenti le froid.
Le niveau des skieurs et des surfers est assez moyen. L'absence de pistes réellement dures explique sans doute en partie la timidité des sud-coréens sur les pistes.
Absolument toutes les indications sont bilingues, comme d'ailleurs dans le reste de la Corée du Sud, et on trouve assez facilement des personnes parlant anglais aux endroits-clés. Le personnel est en général très sympathique, ce qui contraste avec le reste du pays. Yongpyong se veut une station internationale et, si elle n'en a pas encore la taille, elle a au moins fait des pas significatifs dans cette direction.
La station en elle-même est assez compacte et bien pensée. Les distances entre bâtiments ne sont pas très grandes et l'architecture n'est pas trop moche. Yongpyong est donc très accueillante et chaleureuse et on s'y sent plutôt bien. On y trouve tous les services en termes de restauration, de commerces et de lieux de vie.
S'il fallait faire une synthèse de tout cela en comparant Yongpyong et Happo-One (Nagano), l'une est le contraire de l'autre: Happo-One est beaucoup plus sportive que Yongpyong, les pistes y sont plus nombreuses, plus techniques, plus hautes, plus longues, plus difficiles, bref, plus intéressantes. Ce n'est pas à Yongpyong que l'on fera du "grand ski", même si, ne crachons pas dans la soupe, il y a de quoi bien s'amuser. Yongpyong est beaucoup plus ergonomique, vivante et chaleureuse (ceci dit, avoir skié à Happo-One hors saison n'en donne pas une image très représentative). En un mot, l'ambiance y est bien plus sympathique. Yongpyong est largement plus chère que Happo-One. C'est étonnant, mais c'est comme ça, même si je suppose que la plupart des sud-coréens venant skier à Yongpyong ont pu bénéficier de bons plans au moins aussi intéressants que celui que j'ai trouvé. J'ai trouvé les sud-coréens à Yongpyong plus sympas que les japonais à Happo-One, alors que c'est en général l'impression inverse qui se dégage d'un séjour dans ces deux pays, hors station de ski. La météo est plus clémente à Yongpyong qu'à Happo-One, cette dernière station étant maudite par un brouillard quasi-permanent. La neige en revanche était plutôt meilleure à Happo-One, ce qui s'explique par les chutes de neige permanentes et la poudreuse qui en résultait.
Voilà pour les données plus ou moins objectives. Mon expérience personnelle et mes impressions plus subjectives feront l'objet du message suivant.
Yongpyong une station comme les autres? Pas tout à fait, il y a bien une touche coréenne qui en fait un endroit pas tout à fait comme les autres pour skier.
Commençons par le côté déplaisant: sur les pistes de Yongpyong, il faut bien se conduire, de manière civilisée. Moi, quand j'ai des skis aux pieds, mon côté sauvage en général enfoui dans les tréfonds de ma conscience a tendance à ressortir, et l'adrénaline que me procure la vitesse une fois lancé en ligne droite sur les pistes les plus verticales me ferait presque - j'ai bien dit presque - oublier ce qui se passe autour de moi. Et il faut bien se rendre à l'évidence, les coréens ont tendance à skier de manière beaucoup plus pépère. En général, les différents styles peuvent parfaitement cohabiter sur les pistes et je ne pense pas être un danger pour qui que ce soit, moins en tout cas que les skieurs qui slaloment sur toute la largeur des pistes et qui, eux, sont de vrais dangers car leur trajectoire est difficile à éviter. Seulement voilà, à Yongpyong, on est obsédé jusqu'à l'extrême par les règles du savoir-vivre et partout, des banderolles appellent les skieurs à bien se comporter, c'est-à-dire à ne pas skier en état d'ébriété, à choisir des pistes adaptées à son niveau, et surtout, et surtout à ne pas aller trop vite. Et ça, c'en est trop pour moi! Voilà une règle que je mets un point d'honneur à ne pas respecter, dans la mesure bien évidemment où cela ne met la sécurité de personne en jeu. Toujours est-il qu'après une petite descente ma foi fort innocente et tandis que j'attendais Y qui ne skiait pas au même rythme, une sud-coréenne s'est arrêtée à ma hauteur et a commencé à me parler. Elle était apparemment de très mauvaise humeur car "je lui avais fait peur" et que "je skiais de manière irresponsable" et surtout que je n'avais pas respecté la consigne de ralentir. Bon, il ne faisait aucun doute dans mon esprit que j'étais passé suffisamment loin d'elle pour que la chose ne mérite même pas d'être signalée, mais une des rares coréennes à savoir parler correctement anglais était manifestement une véritable rabat-joie. Il fut difficile de trancher entre l'exaspération et l'impolitesse d'une part et des excuses hypocrites de l'autre mais j'ai finalement pris le parti d'être poli et de ne pas lui faire remarquer que si on a peur en regardant les autres skier, il vaut mieux rester chez soi. Ah non mais!
Encore plus grande fut ma surprise quand deux jours plus tard, le lundi, c'est-à-dire quand tous les coréens avaient déserté la station pour reprendre le travail et que les pistes étaient donc désertes, j'entendis retentir un coup de sifflet tandis que j'avançais sur cette même piste à une allure ma foi fort raisonnable. Il s'agissait bien de ce que je pensais: un patrouilleur des pistes caché sur le côté et qui voulait me faire ralentir! Incroyable! Digne des sketches de la caméra cachée!
Mis à part ces petits désagréments somme toute mineurs, il est agréable de skier en Corée du Sud. Contrairement à leur attitude générale dans le reste du pays, les sud-coréens aiment discuter sur les télésièges et j'ai eu des conversations sympathiques avec nombre de skieurs locaux. La plupart viennent évidemment de Séoul et beaucoup viennent très souvent skier à Yongpyong où ils ont en général une résidence secondaire. Ce n'est qu'après avoir skié que j'ai remarqué avec amusement que le "règlement intérieur" de la station encourageait les gens à engager la conversation sur les télésièges afin de rendre la station plus sympathique!
Contrairement au Japon, il n'y a pas de système de lecture électronique des forfaits en bas des remontées, et ce sont donc des employés de la station qui vérifient à l'oeil nu si les skieurs sont en règle. Comme dans la plupart des pays du monde d'ailleurs. Mais la différence à Yongpyong c'est que cette tâche somme toute assez ingrate et répétitive est assumée par de jolies filles déguisées en peluches qui, mécaniquement font de grands sourires et de gentils gestes de la main à chaque passage. Je crois que la plupart des skieurs sont sous le charme de ces drôles d'employées qui agrémentent indéniablement la queue aux remontées. Chats, kangourous, grenouilles et autres déguisements sortis de je ne sais quels dessins animés font donc partie du décor. En haut des télésièges, d'autres employés font presque systématiquement la courbette à chaque fois qu'un skieur descend d'un siège. Au Japon aussi on voit ça, mais c'est assez saisissant au début et il est vrai très sympathique.
De la musique est parfois diffusée le long de certains télésièges. De la musique en général assez moche, du moins selon mes critères, mais à plusieurs reprises j'ai eu l'agréable surprise d'entendre Arirang, cette fameuse chanson coréenne populaire tant au Nord qu'au Sud de la péninsule et qui est parfois considérée comme un des symboles de la future et hypothétique réunification.
Le ski et le surf des neiges sont sans doute les principaux attraits de Yongpyong mais ce ne sont pas les seuls, du moins pour les sud-coréens. Le culte de la personnalité développé autour des acteurs de séries télévisées a envahi cette station, connue pour avoir été le théâtre du tournage de quelques scènes d'une des séries les plus populaires appelée en anglais "Winter sonata". Cela pourrait sembler anecdotique mais il s'agit-là d'un des principaux éléments mis en avant par les promoteurs de la station pour attirer les visiteurs. C'est ainsi que sur la page de garde du site internet de Yongpyong, on peut voir une ou deux scènes de cette série télévisée, et il y a même des tours organisés qui promettent aux fans de visiter l'ensemble des lieux de tournage (c'est-à-dire une ou deux cafétérias et le sommet du téléphérique, entre autres). C'est assez fascinant d'autant plus que nombreux sont les signes disséminés dans la station qui rappellent ce haut fait d'armes. En haut du téléphérique, ce sont des photos et des figurines en carton qui symbolisent ce qui est sans doute - je n'en sais rien je ne l'ai jamais vue - un des moments forts de la série. Et dans une galerie commerciale, une fausse cabine de téléphérique décorée de photos des acteurs invite les fans à se faire photographier. Tout cela rappelle donc très fortement la Corée du Nord dont les quelques sites touristiques sont en général émaillés de rappels des visites des leaders et de leurs exploits.
Il y a donc beaucoup de touristes qui vont à Yongpyong en partie pour ça, et certains ne skient pas du tout. Dans l'hôtel de luxe de la station, on peut voir aussi pas mal de chinois ou plutôt de taiwanais. Ceux-là, on ne les voit évidemment jamais sur les pistes, ils vont sans doute à Yongpyong pour se faire photographier en bas des pistes déguisés en aventuriers du froid.
Lorsque C et P nous proposèrent d'aller diner dans leur village où, dirent-ils, une adresse fort sympathique n'attendait que nous, nous avons bien entendu accepté l'alléchante proposition. Il est vrai que le premier diner à Gangneung ne nous ayant pas laissé un souvenir impérissable - c'est un euphémisme - n'importe quelle adresse de bonne table aurait fait l'affaire. En route donc pour Jinbu, le nom du bourg, pour se remettre d'une bonne journée de ski. Nous avons hélas trouvé porte close en nous présentant devant le restaurant, mais, qu'à cela ne tienne, C l'américain avait une alternative à nous proposer: de la fondue au fromage!
Bigre! Manger de la fondue au fromage en Corée du Sud après le ski, voilà une perspective des plus intéressantes! Et ce restaurant-là, en plus, était ouvert. Un restaurant mi-coréen, mi-occidental, certes, mais que ne ferait-on pas pour une bonne fondue au fromage? Pas de vin chaud en revanche, et nous nous sommes donc rabattus sur l'alcool national coréen, le shoju, qui avait égayé une folle soirée à Pyongyang quelques années plus tôt. Le shoju, ça fait tourner la tête. Peut-être plus encore que son cousin chinois le baijiu. J'avais néanmoins encore toute ma tête lorsque la fondue au fromage est arrivée. L'immense plat rempli presqu'à ras-bord de fromage fondant dans lequel trempaient d'alléchants morceaux de poulet allait bientôt prendre un aller-simple pour nos gosiers affamés et je crois que je me léchais réellement les babines, au sens propre du terme, à ce moment-là.
Las! Il s'agissait bien de poulet et la fondue au fromage était effectivement une fondue au fromage. Oui mais voilà, nous n'étions pas dans les Alpes mais en Corée, et il fallait absolument que cette fameuse "touche coréenne" mette ici aussi son grain de sel. Et en l'occurence ce n'était pas du sel, mais des litres de piment qui avaient été déversés dans ce succulent plat. Et ça, ça fait vraiment mal! Mal au palais bien sûr, mais aussi mal au coeur (cette fois au sens figuré) quand on songe au fabuleux festin qu'aurait pu représenter une des plus belles inventions humaines - la fondue au fromage - si elle n'avait pas été sabotée par ce piment. C'est d'encore plus mauvais goût que le fameux fil dentaire dans "les bronzés font du ski"!
Toujours est-il que le piment et les bouteilles de shoju aidant, nous étions en assez piteux état en sortant du restaurant. Nos amis nous avaient gentiment raccompagnés à la gare routière où C rencontra une de ses élèves (comme beaucoup d'anglo-saxons vivant en Corée du Sud, C et P étaient professeurs d'anglais). Allez donc savoir pourquoi, C se crut obligé d'expliquer que j'étais allé en Corée du Nord et, l'alcool aidant, j'ai proféré quelques slogans bien tournés à la gloire du Grand Leader. Mais dans cette petite gare routière de province, déjà presque vide et endormie, personne ne réagit. Mauvais accent ayant rendu mes slogans incompréhensibles, ou bien totale apathie des quelques quidams encore présents? Mon amour propre privilégie la seconde hypothèse.
A Gangneung, un autre soir, nous avons suivi les conseils de C et de P qui nous avaient recommandé un quartier et un endroit pour sortir. Le quartier était effectivement plutôt sympathique même si le bar en question était désert en cette période de vacances. Mais nous avons eu du mal à le trouver et avons en fait frappé à de nombreuses portes pour boire un verre. Et avons été assez surpris de l'accueil pour le moins glacial voire hostile que nous manifestaient les sud-coréens. A deux ou trois reprises, il nous a d'ailleurs été signifié que notre présence n'était pas souhaitée, tandis que le gérant nous faisait signe de sortir en psalmodiant "no no no" avec des gestes fort peu aimables. L'anecdote ne sembla pas surprendre C et P: dans la région on n'aime pas les américains, et quel que soit le bien fondé de ce sentiment, il est dommage d'en arriver à une telle défiance.
Comment ces deux étrangers survivent-ils dans leur petite bourgade? Pas si mal que ça en fait, ils ont été plutôt bien acceptés et peuvent avoir une vie sociale à peu près normale. Hors de question en revanche d'espérer décrocher une petite amie coréenne, ce qui explique leur empressement auprès des quelques américaines à qui il arrive de traverser la région. Comme le faisait remarquer P non sans humour: j'ai beau faire tous les sports que je peux dans cette région, il y a un muscle que je n'arrive pas à travailler.
En attendant le bus pour Séoul à la gare routière de Gangneung, un rapide coup d'oeil aux journaux dont la une révélait unanimement la même photo d'un monument calciné nous apprit que quelque chose de grave s'était passé la veille à Séoul: Namdaemun, monument emblématique de la ville et le plus ancien édifice de la ville avait vécu. Ayant vu le monument encore intact quelques jours plus tôt, la nouvelle nous a consterné comme bien entendu l'intégralité de la population coréenne, mais j'y reviendrai plus tard.
Le trajet retour pour Séoul fut bien plus rapide qu'à l'aller en raison de l'absence d'embouteillages. Nous ne savions pas où passer la nuit faute d'avoir pu réserver quoi que ce soit sur internet, et nous sommes donc rendus dans le quartier de Namdaemun, non par attrait morbide pour le monument disparu, mais car je me souvenais qu'il y avait bon nombre d'hôtels bon marché dans ce quartier proche de la gare ferroviaire. Nous avons choisi le premier motel venu, effectivement plutôt bon marché, puis sommes allés voir Namdaemun de plus près.
Vieille de près de six siècles, la porte sud de la ville ne conservait plus que sa base en pierre, la partie en bois ayant brûlé au cours d'un incendie déclenché la nuit précédente. Accident ou incendie criminel? L'enquête semblait privilégier ce dernier. Toujours est-il que le spectacle était bouleversant. Ce monument, dont on disait qu'il était le seul à avoir survécu à l'occupation japonaise et à la Guerre de Corée, était calciné et la structure principale de son toit s'était effondrée. Ce n'était plus qu'une ruine, alors que la veille encore, il était encore intact. En ce lundi soir, la foule autour de la scène du crime était étonnemment peu compacte et les sud-coréens n'avaient pas l'air plus émus que ça.
Nous y sommes retournés le lendemain matin, de jour, pour mieux prendre la mesure de l'événement. Une haute barricade avait déjà été érigée autour des ruines de Namdaemun, tandis qu'enquêteurs et ouvriers quadrillaient la zone. Il y avait cette fois foule de journalistes et d'équipes de télévision en train de s'affairer et des badauds un peu plus nombreux que la veille au soir. Pas de jesus en train de haranguer la foule ici, mais un sud-coréen déguisé de manière traditionnelle planté devant la ruine, en signe peut-être de pénitence. Pour la première fois du voyage, nous avons vu un homme en colère tandis que des journalistes l'interrogeaient. En colère contre quoi, contre qui? Peut-être contre les autorités qui n'avaient pas su empêcher le drame. De fait, la presse sud-coréenne n'a pas été tendre à l'égard des autorités municipales jugées responsables de la perte du trésor culturel numéro 1 du pays. L'enquête n'avait pas encore tranché sur l'origine de l'incendie, mais personne ne semblait contester qu'aucune mesure préventive n'avait été prise pour l'empêcher, et que les systèmes anti-incendies étaient absolument insuffisants. Et une fois l'incendie déclenché, quelle qu'en fut la cause, les pompiers ont été jugés terriblement inefficaces, à la fois lents et mal coordonnés. Il semblerait que Namdaemun aurait pu être sauvée avec des dégâts seulement légers, si les forces anti-incendie avaient été mieux utilisées.
Un journaliste nous interrogea sur notre perception des événements et nous apprit que l'enquête avait déjà identifié le pyromane. Il ne s'agirait apparemment pas de sa première, ayant déjà à son actif l'incendie de deux autres monuments secondaires. Ce serait apparemment la haine de la société qui aurait motivé son geste les fois précédentes. Toutefois, toujours d'après lui, le monument n'aurait pas été préservé depuis 600 ans et aurait déjà été incendié une première fois par les japonais lors de l'occupation de la péninsule coréenne. L'édifice tel qu'il existait avant l'incendie de février 2008 avait donc déjà été rénové, au moins en partie, même si la presse semblait raconter une histoire différente.
Toujours est-il que la sensation d'un terrible gâchis frappait tout le monde. D'après les estimations il faudra trois ans et des centaines de millions de dollars pour restaurer Namdaemun, mais elle ne sera jamais exactement la même qu'auparavant.
Pour le dernier soir à Séoul, nous avons remis le cap vers le quartier d'Itaewon, qui en ce lundi soir n'était guère plus animé que la veille du Nouvel An chinois. Sur place, nous avons croisé quelques soldats américains en uniforme qui patrouillaient (lire s'amusaient) dans le secteur, leur caserne n'étant d'ailleurs pas située très loin de là. Si jamais les nord-coréens me demandent comment était Séoul, je pourrais toujours leur dire que l'armée d'occupation impérialiste se pavane toujours là-bas.
Une rue où pullulaient les enseignes en russe attira notre attention et nous nous y sommes engagés. Inévitablement, une coréenne habillée... "de manière fort légère pour un climat aussi froid" est sortie d'un de ces établissements lugubres pour nous proposer de la rejoindre, ce que nous avons bien entendu refusé en rigolant. Quelques secondes plus tard, c'est une russe dans la même tenue dénudée qui a fait son apparition pour nous faire la même proposition indécente. Apparemment, la rue semblait mener vers la Mosquée de Séoul (sic) mais nous ne sommes pas allés jusque là. C'est donc finalement dans un restaurant indien déprimant que nous avons atterri pour ce dernier dîner en Corée du Sud.
De retour à l'hôtel, nous avons eu la bonne surprise de constater que malgré la somme modique, nous avions des chambres plutôt confortables malgré leur aspect sommaire. D'abord, il y avait CNN, ce qui en ces temps d'intense activité politique aux Etats-Unis était agréable quand pendant une semaine on a dû se contenter de l'incompréhensible télévision coréenne. Et puis surtout, les matelas étaient délicieusement et opportunément chauffés. Ce système que nous n'avions jamais vu en Chine nous parut formidablement ingénieux et nous paierions cher pour trouver la même chose à Shanghai où, disons-le crûment, on se les gèle vraiment en hiver!
Le lendemain matin, il faisait froid, très froid. En passant devant un magasin d'uniformes et de décorations militaires, je n'ai pas pu m'empêcher d'entrer pour bien commencer la journée (on ne se refait pas). Bien entendu, aucun article du Nord n'était là et ce n'est donc pas ce jour-là que j'ai pu enrichir ma collection. J'ai malgré tout acheté deux médailles sud-coréennes, juste pour marquer le coup. Lorsque j'ai demandé aux vendeurs s'ils avaient des articles de "joson inmingun" (l'armée populaire de Corée, c'est-à-dire l'armée nordiste), ils se sont contentés de me montrer leurs médailles sudistes. En insistant et en mentionnant "buk joson" (Corée du Nord), leurs visages sont devenus grimaçants et il fut évident que ma question était plutôt malvenue.
Après nous être attardés devant Namdaemun mentionnée plus haut, nous avons pris la direction du nord de la ville et notamment de la plus grande librairie de Séoul où Y voulait faire quelques emplettes. Ce n'était pas très loin mais le trajet fut difficile en raison d'un froid glacial et d'un vent violent. Personnellement, j'avais rarement eu aussi froid de ma vie malgré les épaisseurs que je portais sur moi. Il était en fait difficile de rester plus de cinq minutes dehors et le trajet fut donc ponctué de plusieurs haltes dans les magasins, cafés ou immeubles de bureaux. Une fois arrivés à la librairie, nous avons donc décidé d'y rester longtemps. Je n'avais rien de particulier à y acheter, mais il était très agréable de pouvoir arpenter une vraie grande librairie où le rayon des livres en langues étrangères était digne de ce nom. Rien à voir avec les ridicules équivalents chinois où on ne peut pas acheter grand chose d'intéressant. J'ai finalement acheté un livre passionnant sur la Corée du Nord (très critique bien entendu) et le fameux 1984 de Georges Orwell - en langue française s'il vous plait! - pour aller avec.
L'heure du déjeuner s'approchant, nous avons voulu marquer le coup en faisant un petit festin et avons finalement choisi un restaurant coréen qui semblait fort adapté à ce projet. Nous étions dans le quartier des affaires et tous les restaurants s'étaient remplis de ces salarymans coréens qui ressemblent beaucoup à leurs lointains cousins japonais. Malheureusement, la politique du restaurant que nous avons choisi nous a extrêmement déplu - nous n'étions pas loin de l'arnaque - et nous sommes donc repartis avant même d'avoir commandé. Il était tard, nous avions faim, et le choix du restaurant suivant se limita à prendre le premier venu. Très mauvais choix car nous nous sommes retrouvés dans une sorte d'immense cantine où nous avons franchement mal mangé. C'est donc finalement au Burger King du coin que nous avons eu notre festin.
Il restait encore quelques heures avant de rejoindre l'aéroport, et le projet de visiter le Palais Royal de Gyongbokgung tomba à l'eau car c'était le jour de la fermeture. Pareil pour le temple de Jongmyo un peu plus loin. L'après-midi consista donc à aller d'endroit chauffé en endroit chauffé avec la visite d'un petit parc au milieu. L'heure du départ finit par arriver, et c'est cette fois dans un avion plein que nous avons rejoint Shanghai, au milieu d'un brouhaha de chinois bruyants contrastant de manière flagrante avec le calme coréen. C'était aussi l'heure de faire un bilan de cette semaine en Corée du Sud, pays à propos duquel je peux maintenant dire que je me suis réconcilié. Je n'avais pas aimé la Corée du Sud en 2002, et si je ne peux pas dire que je l'ai adorée en 2008, il serait malhonnête de dire que je ne l'ai pas appréciée. Tout d'abord, comme je l'ai écrit à de nombreuses reprises, la Corée du Sud m'a rappelé à bien des égards la Corée du Nord, et ça, c'est toujours ça de gagné. Et puis, j'ai enfin perçu de vrais aspects positifs dans ce pays. Qualités humaines, qualité de vie, et statut de pays développé, ça n'a pas que des inconvénients quand on vient de Chine. Mais surtout, j'ai enfin deviné que derrière cette épaisse carapace et une surface plutôt insipide, il y avait une culture coréenne bien vivante et certainement passionnante à découvrir à condition de s'en donner les moyens. La Corée du Sud fait partie de ces pays qui peuvent laisser indifférents, et il faut reconnaître qu'il n'est pas facile d'accès. Si voyager dans ce pays est enfantin car tout y est facile, savoir l'apprécier est une autre paire de manches, et il faut faire un vrai effort pour, en seulement une semaine, sentir qu'il est intéressant de percer la carapace des sud-coréens afin de commencer à la sentir cette mystérieuse touche coréenne, cette identité dont les sud-coréens sont si fiers. Sur ce dernier point, ils ne sont pas fondamentalement différents de leurs cousins du Nord.
Bonjour Patrick,
J'attendais avec impatience, comme beaucoup d'autres, la fin de ton récit pour te féliciter une fois de plus... Tes informations et ton ressenti passent toujours aussi bien dans un texte passionnant. Je ne pense pas un jour aller en Corée, ni au Sud, ni au Nord d'ailleurs et justement ton billet n'en est que plus intéressant pour avoir un aperçu de ces pays.
J'ai une demande à te faire : aurais-tu le temps, l'envie, la possibilité de nous faire un jour un billet sur l'évolution de la Chine telle que tu le ressens de ta place, souvent tu as fait des écrits sur tes voyages à l'intérieur de la Chine (où déjà tu nous a fait part de l'âme chinoise) mais pas grand chose sur le chinois "des villes", sur la jeunesse, sur le monde du travail, sur la vie quotidienne des chinois mais aussi d'un étranger là-bas... En fait, un peu toutes les questions que l'on se pose sur ce pays en développement et sur la façon dont toi tu t'y retrouves... tu arriveras bien à faire ça pour satisfaire notre curiosité non ?
Bisous affectueux
Merci pour ton message et désolé pour le retard de ma réponse!
J'ai déjà pensé à raconter mes tribulations en Chine un peu comme philobate l'avait fait il y a quelques années, mais ai renoncé, en raison du risque qu'un tel fil ressemble davantage à un blog personnel qu'à un carnet de voyage. Mes voyages ne sont que des parenthèses de vie, et ça ne me dérange donc pas de les dévoiler. Je ne tiens en revanche pas à m'étendre sur ma vie quotidienne. Il est vrai qu'avoir lu coup sur coup les deux livres achetés à Séoul, l'ouvrage du pyongyangologue russe et "1984" que je viens de finir ce weekend, a plutôt eu tendance à renforcer ce souci d'intimité. 🙂
Quant à une analyse de fond sur la Chine moderne, je n'ai pas la compétence de la multitude d'experts, journalistes et écrivains qui écrivent quotidiennement sur le sujet. Resterait donc une série d'anecdotes impersonnelles assez décousues qui auraient plus leur place dans un bêtisier ou un recueil d'histoires drôles que sur un forum de voyages.
Conformément à une tradition bien établie, voici quelques photos de ce voyage en Corée du Sud:
seoul: une vue de Séoul, gratte-ciels et architecture faussement occidentale. parc: quelques courageux bravant le froid le matin du Nouvel An chinois. namdaemun avant: La Porte Sud, quelques jours avant l'incendie. namdaemun apres: La même, peu de temps après le sinistre. jesus: un jesus vu de dos. Une invitation à aller brûler en enfer? yongpyong 1 & 2: vues de la station de Yongpyong. telesiege: un télésiège 6 places. Rien de tel pour assurer un bon débit aux heures de pointe. kgb: "je suis ici, je suis le KGB". Pas de panique, les nordistes n'ont pas encore envahi la Corée du Sud. Il ne s'agit que d'une publicité pour une boisson alcoolisée. catwoman: une préposée au contrôle des forfaits remontées. On aurait presque envie d'être en infraction pour le plaisir de se faire gronder! acteurs: un exemple du culte de la personnalité des acteurs à Yongpyong.
Sadat comme dirait Kadafi,
Nous sommes actuellement en Corée du Sud avec mon mari, vu que la nuit tombe rapidement, j'ai pris le temps de lire votre immense compte rendu. Un grand merci à vous d'avoir pris tout ce temps c'était intéressant même un bout de temps après. Nous comptons y rester 2 à 3 mois, nous sommes enchantés de ce pays, du peu que nous venons de voir. Arrivés à Donghae avec le Ferry depuis Vladivostok de la Chine, nous avons loué une voiture pour pouvoir être plus à l'aise, et nous aimons passer dans tous les coins ce qui nous permet d'avoir de bien belles surprises, et nous apprenons beaucoup de cette façon sur les pays que nous visitons. Par contre la Chine merci bien, ils conduisent comme des malades, le train est nettement mieux. Surtout les nouveaux rapides splendide.
Tout de bon à Shanghai, nous n'y avons pas encore été mais ça viendra.
Peu de voyageurs forumistes ont laisse autant de traces en terme d'humanite et d'intelligence...
Patrick en faisait partie.
Avec son depart tellement absurde et soudain, c'est tous les passionnes du voyage qui sont en deuil.
Alright, this year, we're heading back to South America!
The initial plan was to retrace the route we imagined in the summer of 2020: a trip to northern Argentina starting from Córdoba.
Unfortunately, the flight to Córdoba no longer exists, and airfares to Javier Milei’s country are both outrageously priced and involve multiple layovers.
So, I tweaked Google Flights every which way and finally found a flight within my budget—departing from Clermont-Ferrand!
Not to Argentina, though...
Our transatlantic flight will cross the snow-capped Andes, landing in Santiago, Chile, with a return from Lima!
In between, two domestic flights and a big road trip loop starting from the coastal city of Arica to explore the treasures of northern Chile.
Our mode of transport: a pseudo 4x4 that won’t take us through sand dunes or devilish tracks but will let us tackle the entire secondary network, including unpaved main roads, while still being insured.
Is the suitcase packed with all-season clothes?
Are the driver’s license and passport ready?
Bank cards and a few euros too?
Off we go for just over 3 weeks of southern wanderings!
--/--
To keep all my esteemed readers on track, here are a few maps outlining the Arica-Arica loop!
1- From Arica to San Pedro de Atacama via Pica and the Salar de Huasco
2- Around San Pedro
3- From San Pedro to Cariquima
4- From Cariquima to Putre
5 - From Putre to Arica
Gas stations in this part of Chile are located in Arica, Iquique, Pozo Almonte, Pica, Calama, and San Pedro de Atacama.
I’m reposting here a travel journal originally published on the Routard forum in 2022 during VoyageForum’s hiatus. Without altering its content, I’ll try to streamline it. The few comments on the political situation reflect my feelings at the time and don’t account for events since then! I’d rather avoid debates on the topic. The photos are nothing fancy—just illustrative.
The context: we’re coming out of COVID. We’re looking for a not-too-distant destination, and Jordan has been catching our eye for a while. After some thought, we wonder if we shouldn’t take advantage of the geography to hop over to Israel. After all, Jerusalem is less than 100 km from Amman. Plus, Transavia lets you combine both destinations.
To plan our trip (February 19 to March 4, 2022), we contacted three French-speaking agencies in Amman. Their itinerary proposals were pretty similar, but the prices varied significantly. Given the many positive reviews we read on travel forums and a very attractive rate compared to competitors, we quickly settled on Ahmad Ababseh’s agency. Still, deep down, we had a slight worry—so many glowing reviews seemed a bit over the top, but we took the chance.
During the preparation, which happened in a very short timeframe (less than 10 days), Ahmad didn’t provide detailed roadbooks, and we made do with brief email or phone exchanges. Few details were shared either. We discussed hotels, with Ahmad preferring the ones he knew. We picked our hotel for our arrival in Amman, but before agreeing, Ahmad insisted on inspecting the rooms.
For payment, Ahmad only asked for a 500 € deposit and trusted our word for the balance, which we paid upon arrival. He also committed in writing to refund the full deposit if our trip was canceled due to COVID.
Finally, for the Israeli part, Ahmad contacted an agency in Jerusalem to handle the logistics. He didn’t take a commission.
Here we go with this second travel journal dedicated to the American West! It’s a must when you love it! 😊
We had left off in the charming town of Bisbee, which once thrived thanks to its copper mines. Today, mining is a thing of the past, and the town seems a bit sleepy.
Unfortunately, I didn’t dig deep enough on-site to answer all the questions my observations raised. Guess I’ll have to *dig* into the subject a bit more... no pun intended! 😊
Let’s hop back in the car and head a little further south to check out the esplanade that offers a view—if you can call it that—of the impressive open-pit mine.
Then, it’s off to the Lowell neighborhood.
Preserved almost exactly as it was, this area must’ve been bustling in its heyday. The vintage cars are still around, storefronts and signs look like they’re straight out of another era, and the whole place has a pretty amazing vibe. You’d almost think you were on Route 66!
Here, we’re not just discovering an old neighborhood—it’s a little slice of American history. And, a detail that’s great for my physical health: the area isn’t too spread out.
Lucky me! 😊
I won’t post too many photos here since I think I can turn them into a future photo exhibit. Between these and some shots from Route 66, I should have more than enough material! So, let’s keep a few under wraps... to preserve the surprise. 😊
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
Off to Southern Africa again! This time, the trip wasn’t just about wildlife—it was also about the local cultures and the breathtaking landscapes Mother Nature has to offer. It was an emotional rollercoaster in every way, as you’ll see.
We visited two countries: Zambia, known for its reserves, and Malawi, which is less well-known but absolutely worth a visit. Our flight landed in Lilongwe, Malawi’s capital, where our vehicle was waiting—though with a 3-hour delay. It was a 4x4 without the rooftop tent this time, since we stayed in lodges (prices are very reasonable in Malawi). Just a heads-up: don’t exchange money at the airport or banks—the official rate was 1,750 Malawian kwacha to $1. On the black market, the rate was between 3,000 and 3,500 kwacha, making the cost of living much cheaper.
With that out of the way, our first stop was South Luangwa National Park in Zambia. The first hiccup came at the Malawi-Zambia border: we were missing a document the rental company had forgotten. After some back-and-forth, they sent it via WhatsApp ($20 to get it validated by the police). But things got worse—the car’s chassis number was off by one digit from the registered one. I thought our trip was over before it even started! After what felt like forever, we got through with a "tip" of $200. Total border crossing time: 3 hours, costing nearly $400. We arrived in South Luangwa after dark.
Thankfully, the next day made up for it with an incredible day in the park (check out the photos).
We spent two full days in South Luangwa before heading to Katete for the Kulamba ceremony.
Kulamba is an annual event held at the end of August, celebrating the Chewa people, who live across Zambia, Malawi, and Mozambique. The Chewa king attends, and representatives from neighboring nations bring offerings. Thousands gather for dances, speeches, and a massive market. There are few tourists, making it a truly authentic experience.
After a few days in Zambia, we returned to Malawi (the border crossing this time was smooth—just 45 minutes). Next stop: Lake Malawi.
Lake Malawi covers over 20% of the country and stretches 580 km. It’s home to a family of fish called cichlids, some of which are endemic to the lake. I recommend taking a day trip from Cape Maclear for snorkeling and to watch the fishing eagles swoop down to catch fish.
We hit the road again to visit Liwonde Reserve, where we had a few surprises. The lodge was on the other side of the river that borders the park, and the elephants didn’t seem to care. On the way from reception to our rooms, elephants blocked our path, and one even charged just before the stairs leading to our treehouse-style rooms.
To top it off, monkeys ransacked our rooms, tearing through plastic bags for food. A mixed experience, but no real harm done.
Next up: the mountains, specifically the Mulanje Massif. This is where Malawi’s tea is grown, and it’s also a great spot for day hikes or multi-day treks. The scenery is stunning, though sometimes the mist rolls in and hides it.
After the mountains, we visited another reserve: Majete. The park is growing and now has more wildlife. We saw lions and even caught a fleeting glimpse of a leopard. And of course, the elephants got involved again—this time giving us a real scare.
During the morning game drive with a guide, we stopped to watch a herd of elephants feeding. Everything was fine until, for some reason, a female got spooked—probably for her calf—and positioned herself in front of us on the track. After a few minutes, we thought the elephants would move on, but then a young one started provoking us. The problem? We had females and calves in front of us, but also two large adult males—one behind us and one to the side.
We were trapped, and even our guide looked nervous. After what felt like an eternity (though it was only a few minutes), the herd finally moved on, freeing the track. That afternoon, we did a self-drive safari and—you guessed it—we had zero interest in running into elephants again.
The next day, we headed back to Lilongwe for our flight home. It was a fantastic, varied trip with some intense moments (sometimes *too* intense). Malawi offers amazing opportunities for those who want more than just wildlife reserves.
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!
"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...
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
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!!!
So, a new year has begun. It’s time to reconnect with the VF buddies and wish you all my best for 2026—a year I hope is obviously full of travel, since, as I just made up:
"If travel’s good, everything’s good" 😄.
To celebrate, I’m inviting you into my new "travel journal," the one from our latest trip in November 2025, a little two-week adventure.
This time, we headed to The Gambia, a tiny country tucked right in the middle of Senegal, before making our way to Casamance.
The Gambia is English-speaking, Senegal is French-speaking, but the locals? They couldn’t care less—because in this part of the world, they mostly speak Wolof, Fula, Jola, or Mandinka.
Hence the title: Senegambia 😉.
As usual, I’m sharing the live updates I sent to friends and family—super casual, of course.
I know this isn’t the kind of destination that draws crowds, but if you love adventure, laughter, and emotion, it might just be your thing 😊.
I hope this travel journal might interest some people, but since we were completely self-sufficient (tent, sleeping bag, pot, cooking over a wood fire…) almost every day, I don’t have many hotel addresses or great restaurant tips to share! Sorry!
We used the Maio map at 1:50,000 scale. It’s part of the Boa Vista/Sal/Maio map. Bought on Amazon, but currently unavailable as of the latest news.
The people of Maio are extremely welcoming and warm, and we were always more than well received in the villages where we pitched our tent!
We’re usually big hikers, but since Maio is a beach island (gorgeous ones, at that!), we alternated a few hours of walking in the morning with some relaxation in the afternoon: beach, reading, fishing, resting…
1 euro = 110 escudos
Day 1 (Friday) Transfers by plane: Fogo-Praia-Maio
We opted for the plane to save some time on transfers, as the boat connections between Fogo and Praia take a while, and those between Praia and Maio are almost nonexistent.
You should budget around 40-50 euros per flight per person.
There are 2 flights per week between Praia and Maio—on Tuesdays and Fridays when we were there (January 2016), but currently on Mondays and Fridays.
A bit of a delay leaving Praia, but we arrived on Maio without any problems around 4 PM.
We took an *aluguer* (shared transport, 200 escudos per person) to the center of Vila do Maio, but it’s totally doable on foot with a backpack.
Since it was already a bit late, for this first night, we dropped our bags at Big Game Maio. A standard European-style hotel run by a very nice Italian family. It’s a bit pricey for us (5500 escudos for 2 people with breakfast), but after our 2 weeks in a tent on Fogo, we were happy to find a little comfort. And the breakfast is ultra-generous, with fresh products (cured ham, fruit, cheese, bread) and top quality. The hotel restaurant offers dishes that are a clever mix of Italian and Cape Verdean cuisine. Excellent!
Little tip: We didn’t try it, but Big Game Maio offers big-game fishing trips, diving, and quad rentals.
The hotel is 2 minutes from Vila’s beautiful beach, and we went for a dip at sunset and took a stroll around town. They’re redeveloping the waterfront with pretty sidewalks and light stone walls.
Vila beach
Sunset behind Santiago
Day 2 (Saturday): rest day + fishing
After 2 weeks of hiking and since Vila is such a peaceful place where it’s nice to take your time, we decided to spend an extra day there. We took the path heading south along the coast to reach Ponta Preta beach in 20 minutes. The path isn’t very pretty because there’s quite a bit of construction going on, which prevents you from really walking along the shore. Lots of real estate agencies, especially Italian ones, have taken over the land. But Ponta Preta beach is a stunning black-sand beach where we had the whole place to ourselves. We decided to go fishing from the rocks.
At 1 PM, the sun was blazing, so we headed back to Vila and dried the fish for the following days.
At 6 PM, we went fishing again, but this time at night from the rocks at the end of Vila beach.
8:30 PM: back to shower and eat at the restaurant.
The rocks and sea at Ponta Preta
Day 3 (Sunday): from Vila do Maio to Calheta de Baixo, via Monte Batalha (path 101) Hiking time: 5h
Since there aren’t many “summits” on Maio, we decided to head to Calheta de Baixo but via Monte Batalha. We left at 8:20 AM and somehow made it to Monte Batalha by 11 AM (2h40 of hiking). But the path is really hard to find in the middle of the dry grass and acacia trees. We kind of cut through randomly, aiming for the summit. Even though it’s not very high (around 300 m), the view is amazing—you can see all of Maio at 360°!
Short 30-minute break. The descent through the “forest” of acacias is even worse for finding your way. We oriented ourselves a bit by the sun to find the road connecting Vila to Calheta. We arrived around 1:30 PM at Calheta de Baixo. A very pretty little seaside village with colorful houses. An idyllic beach, a newly renovated square, and super-friendly people. We pitched our tent facing the sea on the terrace of an abandoned house (after asking the locals for permission).
We cooked some of the dried fish we’d caught the day before, along with fresh beans we’d brought from Fogo (and were still carrying!).
At the summit of Monte Batalha
Calheta
Calheta de Baixo
Day 4 (Monday): From Calheta de Baixo to Morrinho on foot. Hiking time: 3h. Then hitching a bus to Cascabulho, and a car to Pedro Vaz.
We left around 9:30 AM heading north (path 201), following the coastline where the beaches just keep coming—each one wilder and more beautiful than the last: Praia de Soca, Calheta Braca, Ponta de Pau Seco, Calhetina. We reached the dunes of Baia de Santana. There’s no real path, so you have to follow the coast, then go around the dunes, and when you spot the 3 coconut trees, head east toward them to find the track leading to Morrinho. Again, we discovered a village with a Wild West vibe, with colorful houses lined up on either side of a paved road. Just enough time to accept a drink offered by a local before jumping onto the passing school bus that took us to Cascabulho. There, we waited for a ride. A political delegation of 10 cars drove right past us without stopping. Luckily, one of the cars had a flat tire and came by 30 minutes later—and that one, thankfully, gave us a lift! They were heading to the inauguration of a water pump in Pedro Vaz. So that’s where we stopped too. After getting permission from the school principal, we pitched our tent in front of the village school… and became the attraction for all the kids who kept us company until nightfall! A woman gave us 2 jugs of water, but with all that company, it was tough to take a peaceful shower!!
Dinner: pasta with beans.
We were woken up by rain during the night and had to rush to bring all our stuff inside the tent!
The beaches just keep coming...
The dunes
The 3 coconut trees, a landmark to find the track
Day 5 (Tuesday): Rest day and fishing at Boca da Ribeira beach
We packed up at 8 AM because the kids had school. We filled the 2 water jugs that the woman lent us and headed down to camp at Boca da Ribeira beach, which is a bit further east of Pedro Vaz. It took less than an hour to get there. This time, we really were alone in the world! We pitched the tent and spent the day fishing, reading, playing, and swimming regularly because the sun was beating down hard!!! We caught a nice fish that we grilled over the fire in the evening. With the crabs and shellfish we gathered, we made a seafood rice! Yum! What a feast!
That night, once the tent was zipped up, we felt something like rain on the tent fabric. I decided to go out and gather our things, and then—shock!!! It wasn’t raindrops we were feeling and hearing, but bugs attracted by the light!! Not just a few bugs—a huge swarm of them!!! Thousands of bugs covering the whole tent, the ropes, slipping into the seams and hems! Everywhere! The blue tent had turned green!!! After that, it was a real struggle to get back inside without letting any in! A real challenge, and there were always 3 or 4 that managed to sneak in anyway. Total war!!!
Boca da Ribeira beach
Day 6 (Wednesday): From Boca da Ribeira to Ribeira Dom João. Hiking time: 3h30
We woke up leisurely and waited for the sun to dry our things, damp from the dew. A man passed by, and we gave him the water jugs we’d borrowed, which saved us a trip back to Pedro Vaz to return them to the woman.
We left around 10 AM. We followed the sea to Alcatraz, then headed toward Pilão Cão. The path runs alongside the small hills on our right, and we passed above Lagoa Cimidor. The terrain is arid, and the path is hard to find among the many goat tracks.
After 3h30 of hiking, we reached Ribeira Dom João with 2 young people we’d met along the way.
Since it was a public holiday in Cape Verde, the kids didn’t have school, and with the principal’s permission, we pitched our tent in the kindergarten. She even kindly opened the school toilets for us. The neighbor gave us the water we needed to wash up and cook. We cooked beef steaks on charcoal. A nice change from fish!! Charcoal is a widespread artisanal product on the island. People almost never cook directly over wood but always with these big chunks of charcoal.
The hills on our right
Ribeira Dom João
Day 7 (Thursday): From Ribeira Dom João to Vila do Maio. Hiking time: 3h30
We woke up at 6:30 AM to clear out of the school by 8 AM. The neighbor made us coffee to save time. It took us 2 hours to reach Barreiro, another Wild West-style town! Since we didn’t want to walk on the road, we took the old track and reached Vila do Maio in 1h30.
Last night before taking the plane back to Praia the next day.
Barreiro
The old track
The church in Vila do Maio
That’s where this trip ends!
Maio is truly a magical island! A remote, isolated place with incredible, wild beaches and villages with a Wild West feel—colorful houses on either side of well-paved, well-maintained, and decorated streets. And the locals are so warm and welcoming.
Even for hikers like us, it was a great discovery, and we were able to alternate hiking and relaxation with great pleasure! Too bad the area around Vila do Maio is being overrun by real estate construction—ongoing, unfinished, abandoned…
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
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.
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...
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
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!..
We landed in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, and headed straight to Kasane in Botswana to pick up our car.
Our vehicle is a 4x4 because in Zambia, it's practically impossible to use anything else, especially in the national parks. I’ve already had the pleasure of visiting South Luangwa National Park—it’s one of the reasons for this trip, the main one being to travel in Africa with one of my sons.
First stop: Livingstone on the banks of the Zambezi River. Along the way, we discovered a lovely restaurant at Socrates with a super-friendly owner (we’ll actually stop there again on our way back). We spent our first night in the rooftop tent after a stunning sunset, accompanied by the grunting of hippos in the river.
The next day, we set off early, heading to Kafue NP. In fact, we’ll always leave early—waking up between 5:00 and 5:30 AM and hitting the road an hour later. Kafue is a lesser-known park, mostly forested, and the animals are skittish because they’re not used to human presence. We crossed the park from south to north and came across various antelopes. Near Lake Itezhi-Tezhi, there are plains where wildlife is easier to spot.
After Kafue, we headed to South Luangwa. This journey requires stops in Mumbwa and Petauke. Two pleasant stops where we found lodges (a nice change from the rooftop tent) at affordable prices and met welcoming people.
For me, South Luangwa is Zambia’s most beautiful park—the river is stunning, the landscapes are gorgeous, and there’s a wide variety of wildlife, including, of course, big cats. A tip for those, like us, who aren’t with a guide: if you’re staying near the park for several days, don’t hesitate to do a "game drive" to scout out where the animals are so you can return the next day with your own vehicle. Of course, in the dry season, you’ll want to focus on waterholes to see the animals—and you’ll need a bit of luck too. The elephant population is growing, and we were lucky enough to see around sixty elephants crossing the Luangwa at dawn, spread across several groups. South Luangwa is the westernmost point of our trip, and we’re now heading east to Lower Zambezi.
Lower Zambezi is Zambia’s side of Mana Pools on the Zimbabwe side. We took a boat ride on the Zambezi to see elephants, hippos, crocodiles, and a multitude of birds living along the water and on the river’s islands. The sunset there is also magnificent.
To explore the park, we followed the waterways parallel to the Zambezi, mostly on the western side (see our route). Lower Zambezi is the last park we visit, and the final leg of our trip will be Victoria Falls.
Victoria Falls—or Mosi-Oa-Tunya ("The Smoke That Thunders")—are truly impressive, even during the dry season. We saw the falls from both countries: in Zambia for the overall view and the bridge that serves as the border, and in Zimbabwe to get as close as possible to the most spectacular parts of the falls.
This marks the end of our trip, which, despite a blown tire on the road, went off without any major issues. Zambia is a beautiful country that immerses you in wild, still-preserved nature.
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.
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.
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.
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.
2- Around San Pedro
We were trapped, and even our guide looked nervous. After what felt like an eternity (though it was only a few minutes), the herd finally moved on, freeing the track. That afternoon, we did a self-drive safari and—you guessed it—we had zero interest in running into elephants again.
The next day, we headed back to Lilongwe for our flight home. It was a fantastic, varied trip with some intense moments (sometimes *too* intense). Malawi offers amazing opportunities for those who want more than just wildlife reserves.
Vila beach
Sunset behind Santiago
The rocks and sea at Ponta Preta
At the summit of Monte Batalha
Calheta
Calheta de Baixo
The beaches just keep coming...
The dunes
The 3 coconut trees, a landmark to find the track
Boca da Ribeira beach
The hills on our right
Ribeira Dom João
Barreiro
The old track
The church in Vila do Maio
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.
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!
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.
