We're off! After exploring the north, the four friends have now discovered the south.
We’re excited to share this new travel journal, dedicated to our little group and our strong friendship, written by Richard and illustrated with Kate’s photos.
I’ll chime in from time to time with practical tips.
First of all, a big thank you to everyone on VoyageForum who helped us plan this trip. It would’ve been quite different if we’d just relied on guidebooks.
The itinerary lasted just over 3 weeks: Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry, Thanjavur, the Chettinad region, Madurai, Munnar, Munroe Island, Cochin, and Chennai.
We traveled by train, taxi, and private car with a driver, took a domestic flight, and stayed in guesthouses, Airbnb apartments, and hotels.
For each of us, including flights, the total budget barely reached 2000 €, and we didn’t hold back—knowing we avoid resorts and love street food and small Indian restaurants.
Well, yes—back to India, this time in the south, and still the four of us, the same crew. *.
Nobody’s really changed since last year. There’s Nathalie, the enthusiast, always ready to “freak out in the best way”; Bruno, the laid-back one who lives in the moment without worrying too much about where he actually is; Kate, the image hunter with her trusty Nikon around her neck; and me, tasked with putting our shared experiences into words to anchor them in our memories. We’re heading back with the experience of our first trip, even though we expect a different India from the one in the north. Three weeks for a journey through Tamil Nadu and Kerala. Boarding now...
Day 1. Arrival in Mahabalipuram
First morning steps in the small town, first impressions. The 10-hour flight and late-night arrival have wiped us out—we’re feeling that classic, disorienting sense of floating a bit outside reality.
Our first instinct is to compare it to North India. It’s hotter, *much* hotter—we’re in the tropics, and the vibe is summery. We’re back in the usual Indian city chaos: the symphony of horns, the bustling life, the explosion of colors. But what strikes me most is the dark skin of the men and women. I’m fascinated by this subtly different pigmentation, though I couldn’t quite say how it differs from that of sub-Saharan Africans. We’re in Tamil country.
We’re staying at Squirrel Nest Guest House in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise. Small, brightly colored houses, narrow alleys cluttered with fishing nets. On the doorsteps, women draw geometric patterns in the shape of rosettes with a thousand varied colors. These are *, religious symbols made with rice powder. They serve as both a daily offering to the gods and a way to attract prosperity to the home and family, while also delivering a message of welcome.
The beach is just a stone’s throw away, littered with debris—it’s not exactly inviting. But that doesn’t really bother us; it’s a working beach covered in small fishing boats. We quickly feel at home in this environment, which is as lively as it is soothing.
The afternoon is dedicated to our first visits. Mahabalipuram boasts exceptional architectural heritage—the richest, in my opinion, of everything we’ll discover on our South India trip.
The *, the seaside temple just a short distance from the ocean, showcases harmonious proportions with its two small towers facing the sea. Dating back to the 8th century, most of the sculptures decorating it are quite eroded by time and the marine elements. A quick tuk-tuk ride later, we visit the *, five small temples delicately carved from a single block of granite, each dedicated to a god and accompanied by a giant animal serving as the deity’s mount. I recognize *, the bull, vehicle of *, and admire the monumental sculpture of a life-sized elephant, the mount of the goddess *.
First Indian dinner at *, a lovely spot run by a Frenchwoman on a rooftop terrace. We’re reacquainted with the sensations of * food. The first bite is always the hardest—the nose runs, sweat beads on the forehead, but then the spices have their numbing effect, and the food goes down smoothly after that.
Even in the most remote places, Indian nights are rarely silent. Dog fights, clucking hens, the crow of an insomniac rooster, and—most notably—in the dead of night, religious music blaring from loudspeakers. Waking up is a bit rough; none of us slept very well.
This morning we visit the main archaeological site of Maha, located in a very pretty park on a hillside. It’s a religious site dating back to the 7th and 8th centuries. A remarkable collection of temples carved directly from granite blocks. The rock-cut temple of Trimurti, dedicated to the three main gods of Hinduism—Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu—is absolutely stunning. As is often the case in India, the gods are smiling, and they’re not the only ones. Many Indian visitors give us warm smiles and looks, sometimes even asking for selfies with us. The atmosphere is peaceful and welcoming—it’s really lovely. Best of all, unlike the big sites in North India, there aren’t swarms of street vendors trying every trick to foist their trinkets on us.
A quick note to be thorough about the visits: there’s an immense bas-relief entirely sculpted from a single block of stone called the "Penance of Arjuna." The Lonely Planet calls it a masterpiece of ancient Indian art. I agree. From the 7th century—back home, that’s the Merovingian era, sure, they were badass in goldsmithing, but way more limited in architecture and sculpture.
Since yesterday, we’d noticed countless groups of Indian tourists, especially women, dressed in magnificent red saris or tunics. After asking a fruit vendor, we think we understand they’re pilgrims on organized religious trips run by tour operators—kind of like religious tourism circuits. We have fun following these lively, enthusiastic little groups down the main avenue leading to the sea and the Shore Temple. On both sides of the street, there’s a profusion of stalls selling trinkets, little toys, and all sorts of knick-knacks. We quickly realize all these people—these families—are heading to the beach, not to perform a ritual bath but simply to see the ocean, and some even wade in fully clothed, laughing their heads off. And as I watch this joyfully bustling crowd, I wonder if some of them might be seeing the sea for the first time.
After a good meal at a seafood restaurant by the shore, we head back to bed. Around 4 or 4:30 AM, I’m woken up again by religious music blasting through loudspeakers in the neighborhood. I don’t get it—do Indians ever sleep?
Richard said you have a Nikon. If you don't mind me asking, which lens do you use for portraits?
I have a Nikon 18-200mm lens. I only took that one to travel light.
At home, for portraits, I sometimes use my Sigma 105mm macro.
That’s all I’ve got for now! (for the moment 😉)
We’re staying at a guesthouse Squirrel Nest Guest House in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise
For those of you struggling like I did to find a nice place to stay at a very reasonable price in Maha, I highly recommend this guesthouse. Simple, clean, and above all, located in an adorable neighborhood that we all fell in love with.
We really enjoyed wandering through the quiet little streets and meeting the smiling locals. It reminded us of La Pointe Courte in Sète :)
I could’ve easily stayed a few more days...
If you go to India, you won’t need to ask—Indians will beg you to photograph them or their kids 😉
I agree with this 99.99% of the time. 🙂
However, don’t forget that some photos come with a fee (super touristy spots with attractions, kind of like the snake charmers in Marrakech).
And I got a few refusals in an off-the-beaten-path region (Gujarat).
I really loved Mahabalipuram.
Édifices religieux : concours de photos amical d'août 2026
Rubrique Jeux Voyages
C'est le moment de voter !
Richard said you have a Nikon. If you don't mind me asking, which lens do you use for portraits?
I have a Nikon 18-200mm lens. I only took that one to travel light.
At home, for portraits, I sometimes use my Sigma 105mm macro.
That’s all I have! (for now 😉)
Thanks Kate for the info 😊
You have an APS-C, so that makes it 24-300mm in full-frame—it’s what I had when I was using a DSLR 😄. It’s indeed a great compromise when you want to travel light 👍
I thought you had a prime lens for portraits, that’s why I asked.
"Voyager est un triple plaisir : l'attente, l'éblouissement et le souvenir." Ilka Chase
I'm heading there too—it's been way too long since I last went to TN, and there are hidden gems there. I love stopping by Mama when I arrive, and the fishermen's quarter is really nice.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
We left by taxi this morning for Pondy, less than two hours from Maha. Before leaving, Nathalie and I checked out with the young man who owns the guesthouse. The conversation that followed taught us a lot about South India. I greeted my host politely with a "Namasté," which I thought would make a good impression. "No Namasté here in Tamil Nadu! Namasté is Hindi; here we speak Tamil. You say Va Na Kam." Through his words, I sensed a man proud of his identity, his language, and his roots. During the conversation, he took care to distinguish the Tamil people from the populations of North India. "Hindis are Aryans. We were the first inhabitants of India." This strong Tamil identity is something I noticed throughout our trip, not just because of the language or physical traits.
I also took the opportunity to ask him about the religious music that fills the night. Nathalie and I vaguely understood that these chants are meant to ward off evil spirits—he pronounced the word "ghost," I think. But the effort to concentrate on understanding his English left me struggling by the end of the conversation. After some research when I got back, I found an interesting piece of information about the "Brahma muhurta, the hour of Brahma," which is the second-to-last phase of the night before sunrise. It’s a time considered auspicious for meditation or worship. Maybe that’s what our host was referring to.
Hôtel de la plage, rue Romain Rolland, rue Sainte Thérèse... No doubt about it, we’re in Pondicherry... the French one? For me, Pondy—for the history teacher I used to be—was first and foremost the exam topics we had exclusively due to the school calendar. "Did you see what they got in Pondy this year? Tough for them..." My first reflex was to take a photo of the entrance to the French lycée to send to my former colleagues, with the République française plaque, Marianne, and the tricolor flag... And then all those guides, from the *Routard* to *Lonely Planet*, which, while nuanced, still sell us the image of a little piece of France in Indian soil. Pondy the French, then? Well, yes, there’s a "French" quarter—what’s called the White Town—with its colonial-style houses, a bit worn down. Yes, there’s also a strong French institutional and intellectual presence, beyond the lycée, with the Institut français, the Alliance française, and the École française d’Extrême-Orient. And of course, the street names that evoke almost incongruous feelings, like rue Saint-Louis, for example. The disorientation might seem reversed, but Pondicherry is very much an Indian city, even in the so-called French quarter, if only because of the extreme difficulty for a pedestrian to walk around peacefully.
Ah, the sidewalks of Pondy! Cluttered with rubble, roots, trash, bikes, motorcycles, and piles of random objects. The sidewalks of Pondy are used for everything... except walking. The proof is in the photos!
Day 4. A day in Pondicherry
Our accommodation in Pondicherry is gorgeous, in a quiet little street in the French quarter, at the Les Hibiscus hotel.
This morning, instead of visiting Sri Aurobindo’s Ashram, we decided to dive into the more typically Indian frenzy of the Tamil quarter, which is also partly the Christian quarter of the city. We headed to the city’s large covered market, which Nathalie had spotted on the *Routard* map. We walked along an endless avenue under a sun already beating down, trying to navigate between the sidewalk and the road.
The four of us love Indian markets, whether they’re covered or open-air. They’re what connect us best to India—the people, the atmosphere, the everyday scenes. It’s a great way in, and it’s also the aesthetic pleasure for Kate, who can capture moments of life in her camera.
We first entered the fish market. No Westerners in sight, and we had the slightly vain impression of being real backpackers, able to appreciate India far from the tourist trails. Kate was in her element with her camera, looking for the right light, the right angle, the right situation. Nathalie came out with her legendary "so good, I’m loving it," Bruno observed everything—the stalls, the products, the beauty of some of the women. The smells were strong; it smelled of fish, obviously. The crowd was indescribable, people brushing past each other without really jostling. We then moved on to the vegetable markets, then the spice markets. Colors, scents. Sure, there are beautiful markets back home too. But what makes everything exotic are the little differences. The women or men sitting to sell their goods with stalls right on the ground, and the feeling that everything is organized without any real organization.
We left the ambient hubbub a bit dazed, a bit tipsy. Time for a chai or a lassi...
Tamil Nadu and Kerala, even more so, are partly Christian lands. Between 18 and 25% depending on the state. A quick visit to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception was a must. The building is quite majestic—it’s a cathedral, so the seat of a bishopric. Christianity, Islam, Hinduism—religion often imposes itself rather than proposes, but I was still moved by the fervor of these Tamil Indians, which reminded me that Christianity isn’t just a "white" affair.
In the afternoon, we continued our exploration of Pondy by visiting the Muslim quarter. And surprise—it’s probably the most peaceful corner of the city. Beautiful, colorful houses with composite but original styles, and rather good taste, revealing a socio-economic level above the average. A very peaceful neighborhood where, twice, passersby welcomed us in impeccable French. What a strange city this Franco-Indian, Hindu-Muslim-Christian Pondicherry is.
Tonight, a little treat with a somewhat upscale restaurant in an old colonial-style house. Very good dinner, sure, but as Kate, who’s showing off a bit, says, "nothing beats street food." She’s not wrong. Tomorrow, we’re taking the train to Tanjore...
J5. Morning in Thanjavur for the Brihadeeswarar Temple visit
The train to Thanjavur is only an hour late—okay, that’s pretty standard for India. We booked an air-conditioned compartment given the long journey, nearly 4 hours after all.
We arrive as dusk falls. The taxi takes us to our guesthouse on the outskirts of the center: Tanjore Homestay. While planning our itinerary, we’d considered spending 3 nights in Thanjavur to explore and visit all the major temples in the region. But we changed our minds, wanting to spend more time in the small Chettinad region during the next leg. So just one night, with a visit to the Brihadeeswarar Temple the following morning.
After breakfast, we meet Vijay, the driver we booked for 8 days, all the way to Munroe Island in Kerala. Va Na Kam, handshakes. He’s a big guy—huge shoulders, a gentle but weary look. I notice he has some trouble walking. Thirty years on the job, his back’s wrecked, as we’ll learn later when we get to know him better. Still, Vijay turns out to be an excellent driver—calm, careful, and full of good advice.
We enter the vast temple complex. The French-speaking guide we booked never shows up—we won’t see him at all. Oh well, we’ll explore a bit randomly, following our curiosity and emotions. The overall view is stunning, magnified by the two towering gopuras of golden stone that form the entrance and open onto a large square filled with shrines. A high-pitched melody and drumming catch our attention. A ceremony is underway in front of a small pillared pavilion. Priests bustle around a curtain that seems to hide a deity’s statue. After a long while, the statue is unveiled, revealed to the devotees. It’s a moving moment—men and women press their hands together above their heads in prayer.
We approach the main temple, absolutely majestic, adorned with countless high-relief statues. The golden stone gilds the carved scenes, and the effect is breathtaking, though I imagine the entire temple was polychrome when it was built in the 11th century. Among the sculptures, I spot my favorite: Shiva as Nataraja, the cosmic dancer. This depiction of Shiva and his dance of the universe has always fascinated me.
A lovely morning inside this remarkable sanctuary, even if we’re a bit frustrated by the lack of information.
In any case, Vijay turned out to be an excellent driver—calm, careful, and full of good advice too.
Absolutely...
I can recommend his services without hesitation. Here’s his WhatsApp contact:
Vijay: +91 8903266119
The rate for 8 days was 49,000 INR. A great deal for 4 people! 😊
India and its colors—I love it. Happy to join in! 🙂
Okay, we’re taking you with us 😉
Day 5. On the road in the afternoon to Chettinad
The idea of discovering the small region of Chettinad came to Kate while planning our itinerary, as she read through Pagaljavab’s travel journals on VF. Thanks to his valuable tips, we were able to explore part of this area effectively. Thanks to him!
On the way, Vijay stops at the fort of Thirumayam in the village of Pudukkotai. This powerful 16th-century fortress overlooks the entire valley and offers a stunning view of the Chettiar countryside.
We arrive in the early afternoon at Chettinad Heritage, a resort hotel located away from the village of Mithilaipatti.
Using Pagal’s explorations as a guide, I quickly put together a discovery route for the day and a half we’ll spend in Chettinad.
Off to Namunasaduram to visit the temple known as Ellangudipatti, dedicated to the god Ayyanar. Vijay drops us at the edge of a small grove, its entrance marked by a large blue-toned gate topped with a lintel decorated with statues. Before us stretches a long alley lined on both sides with hundreds of terracotta horses—some badly worn, others brand new. The effect is striking. We walk in silence, as if watched by this motionless escort. Without knowing much about this strange army of frozen gazes, I sense the enduring nature of an ancient cult. At the end of the alley, monumental statues: an elephant, a horse, and a sort of stand where offerings are placed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a group of excited kids appears. They motion for us to take off our shoes. The conversation starts—friendly, sure, but pretty hard to follow due to our broken English and their high-pitched chatter meant to explain things. They seem really interested in us, even amused. After a round of selfies, the flock of kids scatters and disappears.
Later, I learn that the sanctuary tucked away in this sacred grove is dedicated to the god Ayyanar, a local deity deeply revered in Tamil Nadu and likely pre-Hindu. The hundreds of horses are votive offerings made by the villagers.
The evening at the hotel is quiet, though we can hear lively echoes from the village. Tomorrow, the Pongal festival begins!
Pongal, the great Tamil festival! It’s what will set the rhythm for our entire day of exploration.
Chettinad is best known for its famous palace-homes built in the 19th century by merchants who grew wealthy from long-distance trade across Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka. Upon returning home, each family wanted to showcase their social success and opulence by constructing these massive houses in a composite style, decorated with precious materials sourced from around the world: Italian marble, English steel, Burmese teak, and woodwork from northern India. But this displayed prosperity didn’t last long—with the collapse of business in the 1950s, the beautiful homes were no longer maintained, and most were abandoned. Since then, the villages of Chettinad have offered visitors a series of "Sleeping Beauty Palaces," frozen in time. However, since the early 21st century, some of these palaces have been restored and opened their doors to tourists.
We start our tour in Kanadukathan. The urban layout of these villages—long, straight avenues arranged in an orthogonal grid—is surprising compared to the usual Indian city patterns. A few beautiful, though slightly faded, facades catch our eye, but most of the houses are closed. Still, I push open the door of one of them. A woman comes toward me. "Can we visit? No, it’s closed today, Pongal."
A little disappointed, we walk around the pond facing a temple when our attention is drawn to a small group of women boiling rice while the men stand and watch. We approach. "Va na Kam! What is it? Rice, it’s Pongal."
This is the big day of this primarily Tamil festival: Thai Pongal. A semi-agricultural, semi-religious, propitiatory festival—very popular and one that seems to transcend religious differences. Pongal is first and foremost the harvest festival, where people thank god/the gods and the animals that made the abundance possible. But it’s also the name of the dish prepared for the occasion—a mix of rice, sugar, and milk that’s intentionally allowed to boil over the pot.
The women stand up and place a bit of the hot, sticky, deliciously sweet mixture in our hands. We warmly thank them for the offering.
We hit the road again toward Athangudi to visit another temple dedicated to the god Ayyanar. There are always those fascinating horses that seem to neigh inwardly. Then we visit the famous "Lakshmi House," a magnificent Chettiar home: order and beauty, luxury, calm... Another quick car ride to "Saratha Vilas" in Kothamangalam, another Chettiar home beautifully restored by a French couple of architects.
Fatigue starts to set in, though—we’re feeling a little tired. Come on, one last stop before heading back: Pavalangudi. We begin strolling through the village when a man calls out to us. "Come to see my home," then a second, who seems important, says, "My home too. It’s the oldest in the village." We’re a bit wary. Memories of North India resurface—what are they going to try to sell us?
But nothing, actually. The first just wants to show us the pretty kolam decorating his doorstep and introduces us to his family. As for the second, who seems to be bursting with impatience while waiting for his colleague to finish, he takes us to his home and invites us in. It’s a beautiful Tamil house with elegant proportions but furnished quite simply. We see everything—the living rooms, the upper floors, the kitchen, the garden. He also introduces us to his family and tells us about his son, who’s studying in the USA. His eagerness, his enthusiasm to show us his world makes us smile. But quickly, amusement gives way to respect. It’s no small thing to open your home to strangers. The mother sits us down and offers us some Pongal. "Happy Pongal!" Then his friend, who followed us, explains the different days of this great festival: Bhogi, Thai Pongal, Mattu Pongal, and finally Kaanum Pongal.
It’s time to head back. A few selfies, handshakes, and we warmly thank the family for their hospitality.
On the road back to the hotel, we’re stopped by a crowd. Vijay stops the car, and we end up walking through a group of children and adults scattered on both sides of the road. On the ground, dozens of colorful geometric patterns. It’s a kolam competition.
Tomorrow, Pongal continues. It’ll be the day of the cow...
Yes, so adorable! 😊
From the first few days, I get the feeling that the south meets your expectations better. More authenticity, way less tourism, more interactions—am I wrong? 🤔
Thanks, Richard, for the story—I’m replying to Kate, but my question is for the both of you! 😄
"Voyager est un triple plaisir : l'attente, l'éblouissement et le souvenir." Ilka Chase
From the very first days, I get the feeling that the south meets your expectations better. More authenticity, much less tourism, more interactions—am I wrong?
Hi Isabelle,
Yeah, you’re absolutely right. Fewer prestigious sites than in the North with its palace-fortresses and mausoleums. Fewer tour operators... So fewer vendors selling everything and anything, fewer self-serving solicitations, less harassment. Right off the bat, the few connections we made with people felt more natural, more genuine. That impression only grew stronger as the trip went on.
I’ll try to dig into the reasons at the end of my travel journal.
Have a great Sunday!
A treasure trove of images that extends the gaze, a sensitive, attentive finger on the shutter.
A literary pen, scholarly, drawing from memories and perhaps, this time, from a few notes jotted down on the fly.
Retracing the journey together in reverse, gliding across the page without stepping on each other’s toes. Picking an image, inserting it into the text... it will reignite the storyteller’s inspiration.
Rereading the chapter just written, digging through your memory card... happily unearthing the perfect illustration of that very moment.
All those intense hours spent side by side complement and intertwine. Far from diminishing their qualities, the talents respond to each other, elevate each other... merging here into a delightful narrative.
Friendship, encounters, gifts, exchanges... life is there, whispered, loud, colorful, tiny and vast.
Traveling together, a shared passion... going slower than alone but looking further in the same direction together? 🤪
(Huh? No, I didn’t mess up the classics!)
... but also,
Maybe that’s what love is
Sometimes we get it wrong
Sometimes we get lost
And sometimes we find each other
Richard is completely flustered! He doesn’t know what to say... Right now, he’s muttering to himself, buried in a cookbook, which is totally out of character—his culinary skills are abysmal, to say the least. 😏
I forgot to share some info about the train.
We bought an e-ticket on the 12go Asia website from France.
Nothing else to provide except our names (no phone number required).
Pondy to Thanjavur, 240 km, 2904 rupees for the four of us, in Second AC.
There’s only one train per week, on Sundays.
Kate got the idea to explore the small region of Chettinad while preparing our itinerary by reading Pagaljavab's travel journals on VF. And thanks to his valuable information, we were able to explore part of this territory effectively. Thanks to him!
I'm glad my travel journal could be useful because that's exactly why I wrote it. It's also why I still cling to the idea of writing one about my summer trip to Rajasthan someday. There have been quite a few about this region lately, so it can wait!
Your journal happily takes me back to my 2018 trip. I wrote this one almost in real-time, and members like Marien, Marco, and Ragga (I think) encouraged me to continue into Chettinad when it wasn’t originally planned. I hesitated, but I’m so glad I listened to their advice because this region is among my best Indian memories.
Like the previous one, your journal is a real pleasure to read. First, it’s extremely well-written, lively, and balanced between your experiences, encounters, and the photos that beautifully complement the story.
After your first experience in Rajasthan, you seem more confident and less naive (I’m teasing you 😛), without losing that sense of wonder and curiosity (which we’ve probably all felt at some point) to unravel India’s mysteries. You’re already "regulars," ready to explore the country from north to south and east to west.
Choosing Tamil Nadu and Kerala was surely the most logical counterpoint to continue this discovery. I can’t wait to see where your third trip to India will take you—I’m sure there will be more! Maybe you already have some ideas?
After your first experience in Rajasthan, we can tell you're more confident and less naive (just teasing 😛), without losing that sense of wonder and desire (which we've probably all felt at some point) to unravel the mysteries of India.
Thanks Pagal for your friendly post. Your analysis is spot-on. We did feel more confident, less clumsy—like it often is when you meet someone for the second time. But the desire is still just as strong. I’ll stick with the love metaphor.... 😉
This reminds me that during my second (fittingly) trip to India in 2009, an Indian man used a very evocative romantic metaphor about India. I was in Delhi at Connaught Place, and he approached me to get me into a travel agency and sell me a trip to South India. I told him I didn’t need an agency to go anywhere and that I was actually heading to Kashmir. He replied: "India is like a woman. You want to go straight to the top, but you should start from the bottom and work your way up slowly."
I thought we might not exactly share the same customs 😄
I have a soft spot for the dog photo at the start of your travel journal. Actually, I love it. Great initiative.
Still, I’m not the only one who noticed it, right?
Tricky question: did you feel less inspired for photos at the beginning of your trip (I’m thinking of all those people photographed from behind), and isn’t traveling with a group a disadvantage when it comes to the time you’d have spent taking photos alone or just the two of you?
This topic interests me: for a first trip, we would’ve chosen these provinces too, maybe to avoid doing what everyone else does, but also because we’d spotted some amazing temples.
It didn’t happen, and now you’re letting me experience it vicariously.
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
I counted 18 photos of people facing the camera 😮
Seems pretty balanced to me. Plus, it just happened that way as the travel journal unfolded...
Obviously, I’m more comfortable when I’m alone, but my travel companions were super patient. We’d agreed I’d be the "photo chief," responsible for capturing these moments. By the way, I’m going to make a printed album for each of us.
Here, a nice group shot for you (watch out for the guys hiding in the back—they’re keeping an eye on things!)
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
But what strikes me the most is the dark skin of the men and women. And I’m fascinated by this subtly different pigmentation among Sub-Saharan Africans, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on how.
Ouch... Well, don’t go telling them they’re Black!!!
They hate being called Black and don’t consider themselves Black at all...
Especially when you see the photo just below...
There are indeed some who are much darker than in that photo, and they’re made to feel it...
And 90 to 95% of matrimonial ads mention "fair skin" in both offers and requests...
And I think, watching all these people happily bustling about, that maybe some of them had never seen the sea before.
It’s not just a maybe—it’s certain. And even now, while younger generations are starting to dip their toes in—fully clothed—many remain terrified of the sea.
However, don't forget that some photos are paid for (very touristy places with attractions, a bit like the snake charmers in Marrakech).
And I faced a few refusals in an off-the-beaten-path region (Gujarat).
I can confirm that.
Before the selfie craze, these accepted and requested photos were taken so seriously that people would stand there, arms hanging by their sides, with a closed, stern expression. No smiling, let alone laughing. Now things are changing—people strike poses—some more ridiculous than others—and in the end, it’s no more natural than before... The only ones who keep their freshness and spontaneity are the kids.
And yes, photos have become a paid service in some tourist spots... Gujarat in particular. Otherwise, they’re refused, especially among nomadic communities. But it’s not just in Gujarat...
I really loved Mahabalipuram.
Funny how tastes differ... I hated it...
But I loved Trichy, which a lot of travelers don’t like at all...
Same for Bangalore
a “Namasté” that I think will make a good impression
Ouch... just like with dark skin...
There’s strong resistance—if not outright hostility—toward anything from the North, whether it’s terms, people, customs, or even religious festivals. For example, Diwali or Holi are barely celebrated in the South, especially in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, two states with many similarities but fierce rivalries. Instead, they have their own religious—or non-religious—festivals that are completely unknown in the North. There’s also a strong boycott of Hindi. They prefer using English as a common language.
Cluttered with rubble, roots, waste, bicycles, or motorcycles, and piles of miscellaneous items. The sidewalks in Pondy are used for everything... except walking. Just look at the photos!
This is a relatively new phenomenon that only started a few years ago... It began to deteriorate after the devastating cyclone in 2016 or 2015—I can’t remember which. They wanted to take advantage of the repairs to undertake major renovation work, especially on the roads, but instead of doing it in stages, they tore everything up everywhere. Too big a project, too much corruption—long story short, it was never finished... If you look back at my old posts, you’d see a completely different side of Pondy and how much I loved it. During my last trip in 2018, I think, I was so horrified that I’ve never set foot there again.
How lucky you were! I’ve never managed to be there for Pongal, despite all my trips to that state... The perfect example of what I was saying earlier. No one in North India knows about Pongal.
Hi Marien 33,
Thanks for your posts showing the interest you have in the two-handed travel journal Kate and I are publishing.
The first thing I noticed, which aligns with your point, is the difference between these two "Indias"—the North and the South. And knowing this country has a thousand other facets.
When I mentioned skin color without taboo, it was to say I immediately saw the difference with the north, which is much lighter. Dravidian India, partly Tamil, proud of its past and origins. And attentive, as I wrote in the journal, to distinguish itself from the Indo-Europeans of the North. Of course, I’m aware of this form of skin-color discrimination in India. You only have to look at the ads on huge city billboards or the heroes in "Bollywood" films with much fairer skin.
I quickly noticed this contrast and wanted to mention it in the journal. So yes, for me, South India is darker. And "black is beautiful," especially when you pair the deep chocolate skin with the red sari of the women. But this is just an aesthetic observation.
Anyway, I’m picking up where we left off in our journal because the trip still has a lot to tell: Madurai, Munnar, the backwaters, and Kochi.
Mattu Pongal, the day of the cow. Ah, India and its cows! The perfect stereotype whenever the subcontinent comes up.
"They should just eat their cows!" That stupid phrase, still heard in the late sixties before famines disappeared and the "Green Revolution" began, I often heard it as a kid in adult conversations.
But it’s true that for us big steak eaters, this typically Indian interaction between humans and animals is still hard to grasp.
Anyway, I’m not going to do an anthropological study on the subject—just a quick reminder of the material and spiritual importance these bovines have in India, at least for Hindus. They’re there, in their familiar world, sharing the same daily space with people. Well-treated, revered. And even though I saw last year at a market in Bundi a cow that was a bit too greedy getting its ribs shaken by a guard...
Alright, enjoy your day, girls! 😉
Madurai! I was really looking forward to this stop because I’d read in the guides that the city’s temple is certainly one of the most beautiful in South India in the Dravidian style. The "Meenakshi Amman" temple.
Vijay takes us to our guesthouse, Grace Kennett Foundation, in a rather unexpected spot chosen by Kate. An orphanage inside a hospital that offers Airbnb-style accommodation.
Strange feeling. We enter the large courtyard. On the right: "admissions", on the left: "emergency". Okay, it’s a hospital. Did you mix things up, Kate?
No, not at all. We go to the reception, and the young woman on duty confirms our reservation in a building at the back of the courtyard. We settle into the small apartment—two simple but cute rooms.
Alright, we’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of us.
Photo copyright from Airbnb website
Madurai is a city with a rich past, one of the oldest in India. Vijay drops us off first in front of the Tirumalai Nayak palace. A magnificent complex in the Indo-Dravidian style, dating back, like the temple, to the 17th century. Though partly destroyed, its grandeur and proportions remind me of the great palatial residences of Rajasthan. Lots of people in the huge courtyard surrounded by colonnades, mostly Indian tourists. A family sitting on the beautiful stone steps leading to the main hall stares at us. They make friendly gestures toward Kate. A young girl approaches and asks for a selfie. Apparently, it’s Kate’s red hair that fascinates her. "You have a pretty face." Wow, what a compliment! The rest of the visit is constantly slowed down by groups of young women wanting to take photos with Kate, who ends up doing selfie after selfie. She’s the star of the day...
We leave the palace and ask Vijay to take us to the temple. From the end of an alley, we expect to see one of the four huge external gopuras towering over the area. Disappointment! All four are in the middle of restoration, covered in bamboo scaffolding. Impossible to soak in the colors or make out the countless sculptures decorating them. A bit frustrated, we walk around the four streets surrounding the temple, trying to feel the atmosphere of the place. But again, we feel let down. The vibe is certainly bustling, but the activity around it is mainly from the "temple merchants." Well, we’re not Jesus—no way we’re chasing them away.
We return to our guesthouse, a bit tired. Are we going to "miss out" on Madurai?
The next day, against all odds, turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip.
The Indian breakfast we’d ordered was barely edible—hospital food, really. We forced ourselves to eat as much as we could; no way were we wasting it. Bruno offered to take the leftovers to the local cows, the Indian way. In the street, he struck up a real bond with a young stray dog with short fur, whom he named "Snoopie." Every time we entered or left the building, Snoopie would wait for him, tail wagging, overjoyed to see him.
After a quick pat for Snoopie, we headed into town for a full tour of the temple. We’d asked Vijay to find us a French-speaking guide so we could better understand what we were seeing.
The Meenakshi Temple, an avatar of the goddess Parvati, is also dedicated to Shiva. Our guide greeted us—he spoke excellent French. The rules for entering the temple were strict: no shoes, no cameras, no phones, and we had to pass through an electronic gate.
We stepped into the vast sanctuary. Inside the large courtyard leading to the different temples, our guide gave us a quick but welcome lesson on Hinduism. Then the tour began, lasting nearly two hours. Thanks to his explanations, we could more easily feel the general atmosphere of the sanctuary—a spiritual place, a place of art and history, but also a place of life. Nothing like the churches back home, where silence is usually the rule. Here, it was a constant hum of laughter, songs, and strong displays of devotion. The vibe was warm and relaxed. There was even a canteen offering free meals to pilgrims.
A moment of intense aesthetic emotion came when we discovered the Hall of a Thousand Pillars. In the massive hall, life-sized statues of Shiva in high relief seemed to literally emerge from the granite they were carved from. The gods danced, smiled—you’d think they were alive. It was breathtaking!
We left the visit thrilled, yesterday’s disappointment forgotten.
We decided to grab a bite at Sree Sabarees, a spot we’d found in Pagal’s VF travel journal. It turned out to be a chain of popular canteen-style restaurants. The crowd was indescribable—no seats available. The owner spotted us and asked us to wait inside. We stood there in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. The waitresses bumped into us as we watched people eat. Everything moved fast—customers rotated quickly, and no one lingered. The group at our future table was more or less explicitly asked to make way. We felt a little awkward, thinking the owner was doing us a favor as Western tourists. Not at all—it was just how the place worked. Eat fast, then move on.
We sat down, and the meal was served on banana leaves. Rice was the main dish, accompanied by three small portions. I recognized a potato and cauliflower curry, probably a chutney, but I couldn’t identify the third. On the leaf, there was also a pappad (a crispy flatbread) and two small pots—one with a mild yogurt-based sauce, the other with a kind of rice pudding. The whole thing was delicious, subtly spiced. No utensils—we ate with our fingers. Kate nudged me to switch hands; I’m left-handed.
After about fifteen minutes, a group of Indians stood conspicuously in front of our table. Time for us to clear out too.
We had a meet-up at the guesthouse in the mid-afternoon to visit an orphanage: the Grace Kennett Foundation. It’s a private social institution that takes in orphans and helps facilitate their adoption.
A poised woman with a radiant gaze welcomed us and introduced herself. "My name is Nirmala, I am a social worker." She showed us into her office and asked us to leave our cameras and phones. The conversation started, and she explained how the foundation worked and the immense challenges it faced. Nathalie, who’s also a social worker, was captivated. The two women, who sometimes dealt with similar professional realities, instantly connected. Nathalie’s English improved as if she were bilingual, while the rest of us were lost. But our friend would pause now and then to translate what she was learning.
The center currently housed 22 orphans—15 girls and 7 boys. Fourteen of them had been entrusted to the foundation by young mothers, while the other 8 had been left—abandoned—at the center. Most of these children came from rural areas where economic and social poverty was still very strong. Nirmala also mentioned unwanted pregnancies resulting from rape, as well as the birth of girls still being seen as a catastrophe in some villages.
It was time to visit the nursery where the children, aged from a few months to 3 or 4 years, lived.
We entered this child’s world, which smelled of cleanliness and dirty diapers at the same time. The caregivers greeted us with smiles. The infants lay in cribs, while the older ones were in playpens. All four of us had lumps in our throats and misty eyes, but we forced ourselves to smile. A little dark-skinned boy looked at us in surprise, then started crying. What moved us the most wasn’t the sight of the children themselves, but the idea of the future that awaited them. The luckiest might get a second chance, a different life from the one they were born into. But for the less "appealing" children—those with disabilities, like the little blind girl we’d been introduced to—the future looked much harder.
The visit ended. We thanked the staff and Nirmala for their welcome. Before leaving, we decided to make a donation to the Foundation.
Nirmala
The day had been intense, filled with all kinds of emotions. Tomorrow, we leave Tamil Nadu for Kerala. And Bruno won’t forget to say goodbye to Snoopie, another street orphan, though perhaps with a slightly less precarious existence. Bruno would’ve loved to bring her with us, but Nathalie told him it wasn’t going to be possible.
It’s a mango pickle.
(If I had time, I could’ve reacted to the dozens of interesting things that have been said since yesterday, but I picked this one.)
My name is Christelle and I’m also a social worker 😊. Like Nathalie, I would’ve loved to chat with Nirmala, but meeting the kids would’ve "torn me apart," though. Still, they’re "lucky" to be in a small facility. Let’s hope their care is appropriate and they’re well supported!
Le monde est comme un miroir, si tu lui souris, il te sourit aussi!
Like Nathalie, I would have loved to chat with Nirmala, but meeting the children would have "torn me apart" though.
I can still picture myself walking through that door into a room filled with small wooden crib beds.
In those cribs, babies wriggling around. One of the assistants picked up the little girl Richard mentioned to introduce her to us. She was blind, missing some fingers. She was like a rag doll, no reactions. "This one will never be adopted," the assistant confided 🙁
That evening, the orphanage director invited us to play paddle tennis (there’s a court right next door). We said yes but ended up staying in the apartment, silent over a beer, dates, and other snacks to munch on.
The day had been too intense; we went to bed early.
9/10. Entering Kerala: Munnar and its tea plantations
The idea was to spend an extended stay to enjoy the countryside and high-altitude forests, the still-wild nature. But the rainy and cool weather put a damper on our plans. In India or anywhere else, the mountains are a pain when the weather’s bad.
Munnar is a popular hill station among Indians who come here to escape the heat and enjoy mountain walks.
Let’s get this out of the way: Munnar is really ugly, even though it’s nestled in a remarkable site crossed by a large river and surrounded by green hills. The urban center sprawled at the bottom of the valley is literally choked by heavy traffic, which generates significant air pollution. Ah, the pure mountain air! Crossing the main street is an urban feat that requires mastering Indian-style dodging techniques.
Most of the buildings look quite run-down and sprawl haphazardly across the city.
Despite everything I just said, we had some really pleasant moments in this little Kerala town. There’s something almost telluric in these Indian cities, which are rarely attractive at first glance but awaken the body and mind with a kind of stimulating vital energy. It’s exactly like Indian food—hard to swallow at the first bite but tasty and invigorating afterward. Is it just the tourist’s distorted view that finds everything new interesting? Maybe.
Our guesthouse Landy Queen is located a bit above the center, in a spot away from the noise and traffic. Ronnie, the owner, welcomes us warmly. He’s a small, smiling man with a kind expression. He’ll bend over backward to make sure our stay goes as smoothly as possible. During check-in, he tells us breakfast isn’t included, which contradicts the services listed on Booking. He seems quite bothered by this site error and offers to let us have breakfast every morning in his own home without charging us. Classy, Ronnie!
In the evening, we go for dinner at Gurubhavan, a very touristy restaurant but with an almost exclusively Indian clientele. Big room, long tables, harsh neon lights, the usual buzzing atmosphere. The staff is friendly, patient, and attentive. Unlike the other customers, we get plates and cutlery. The girls order a masala dosa, Bruno gets tandoori chicken, and I have Indian-style noodles. 1200 rupees for four, plus Bruno’s lassi. It’s really cheap and delicious.
This morning, we set off for a short 2-hour excursion to explore the tea plantations. The weather hasn’t worsened yet, and the walk is really pleasant amid this landscape shaped by human activity. We learn that tea plants are actually trees and need to be pruned to the ground to keep them from growing too tall. The guide also explains that whether it’s black, green, or white tea, it all comes from the same plant. The difference lies simply in when the leaves are picked during their maturity.
Depending on the light and the view of the cultivated hills, the shades of green change, as do the shapes of the bushes. From a distance, the whole thing sometimes looks like carpet. You want to touch it or dive in and snuggle up. I’m still surprised by the steepness of the slopes and the narrowness of the access paths. Picking tea seems like a tough, exhausting job. The part of the property we’re visiting, however, is empty of workers. According to our guide, they’re harvesting on another side of the hill.
Next, a quick visit to the tea museum with a reconstruction of a production line. In the shop, we buy some teas and incense. The prices are ridiculously low, but are we making the right choices?
Time for a tea break. While Bruno smokes his cigarette and Kate takes photos, Nathalie and I queue up at a small stall. But we know from last year that waiting in line in India is a constant battle. Sure enough, a mother and her son cut in from the side and try to push ahead of us. Nathalie gives the mother a dark look, and the mother glares back. The boy pretends not to notice. Who’s going to win? I dig deep for some anger and drop my overly polite side. "Please, follow the lane!" I say loudly. The young man apologizes, and we get to order first. We won!
In the afternoon, a fine rain starts to fall. Vijay takes us to visit a botanical garden of Ayurvedic plants. Not uninteresting, but nothing special. We head back to the center in the late afternoon to soak up the city’s energy and fill our lungs with CO2.
Tomorrow, we’re heading up to the peaks, toward Top Station.
I then dig deep and find a bit of anger, letting go of my overly polite side
Oh wow! Haha, I’m laughing 😏
Your "very well-mannered" side would usually lead to: "oh no, please, after you," "thank you so much, ma’am," "oh sir, by all means, you first..."
But where did you find that anger?
Then again, it balances out my bulldozer side!
That’s the thing with co-written travel journals: sometimes you witness a few clarifications... 😉
🎭Maybe that’s what love is... 🎭 😛
And the journal isn’t finished yet 😉
Day 11. Munnar: What to do in the rain?
When the sky is low and heavy... Rotten weather this morning—no point driving an hour to hike in the mountains. We consider leaving Munnar and canceling our third night at the hotel. But that wouldn’t be fair to Ronnie, who’s been so thoughtful toward us.
Vijay suggests visiting a dam lake half an hour’s drive from town.
The lake is nestled below the road, in a peaceful and rather charming setting. The place must be quite touristy, judging by the number of small stalls around the water. But today, aside from the monkeys, there aren’t many people—probably because of the weather. A network of paths winds through a lovely eucalyptus forest. With our hoods up, we take a short but very pleasant walk.
Before heading back to the car, we invite Vijay for a nice hot chai. In North India, we drank masala tea, but here it’s called chai, and the taste seems slightly different. They’re usually served in dabaras: two metal containers—a cup and a deep saucer. The trick is to pour the drink back and forth to cool it down.
Last afternoon in Munnar. On the agenda: shopping, visiting the church, the small market, and street photography for Kate.
The church, built in 1911, sits atop a hill overlooking the town.
Just like the mosque, by the way, and just like the Hindu temple. The power of religion is always inscribed in the landscape. I’d actually discussed religion in India with Ronnie, who’s Christian. He pointed out that in Kerala, coexistence happens without issue. “The problem is in the politic,” he concluded. We know that at the national level, the identity-driven politics of Prime Minister Modi are overtly pro-Hindu. Kerala seems to escape these religious tensions exacerbated by power.
Wandering through the crowded streets of the town, but the small market—partially covered—is away from the traffic. Kate spots an elderly woman on one of the town’s bridges, selling magnificent black hair. She takes her photo. “I’ll put it in the journal—you’ll write about it. Okay?” “Okay.”
The day comes to an end. Tomorrow, we head to the Malabar Coast on the Arabian Sea, the backwaters, and the beaches.
Time to break out the T-shirts and sunglasses again.
Before heading back to the car, we invite Vijay for a nice hot chai. In North India, we used to drink masala tea, but here they call it chai, and it seems the taste is slightly different.
Actually, it’s the opposite—people say chai in the north and masala tea in the south, even though chai or chaya are becoming more common there too.
And yes, they’re slightly different because in the north, the water, tea, spices, and milk are boiled together over high heat in a pot. In the south, the black tea steeps first in water with ground spices, and it’s often mixed with sweetened condensed milk using two carafes to make it a bit frothy, like filter coffee.
J'apporte ma modeste contribution à la fête de réouverture en postant ce carnet de voyage en Inde, effectué en Janvier 2024. Nous sommes 4 amis (2 couples),…
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Bonjour tout le monde, nous voici rentrés d'un RT USA organisé par nos soins du 31/07/2026 au 26/08/2026.
La destination : Le Sud-Ouest USA avec le Texas, l'Arizona et le Nouveau-Mexique. 7000 kilomètres effectués à la louche.
L'Auto : Une Chevrolet Equinoxe pour deux en passant par BSP Auto et Avis. Et dedans 2 valises, un sac de voyage, deux valises cabines, la glacière de chez Walmart, le matos photos et les bouteilles d'eau (pack de 40).
Le trajet : Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo et Dallas pour finir avec départ sur DFW.
Les voyageurs : Deux séniors bien avancés dans l'âge (73 et 75) mais toujours en activité (pas épuisante physiquement) (pour rester vivants et financer les voyages), autonomes physiquement à 100%, intellectuellement beaucoup moins, passionnés des USA, pays où tout est possible, plus marcheurs que randonneurs, plutôt hôtels à partir de 3 étoiles que motels de bord de route, plutôt restos Italiens que nourriture US, adeptes des arrêts fréquents pour les photos, plutôt musées que rien, Plutôt sieste que marches forcées. Pas trop râleurs, juste ce qu'il faut pour rester français au pays du grand Satan qu'ils disent.
Pas trés doués pour les langues, Anglais des rues (mais bien pratique), Espagnol nul pour moi hormis : " Hola ! Una Cerveza por Favor ! " Cela fait court. Madame comprend tout mais refuse de parler.
Le coût du RT : Environ 12 000 euros avec les vols AF, Auto, Essence, cadeaux, visites et tutti quanti. Bien maitrisé puisque 13500 euros prévus au départ.
Le bilan positif : Un régal avec les longues routes à perte de vue. Des Musées à découvrir. Le constat de la présence Hispanique et de son Histoire importante dans ce secteur de l'Amérique. Des locaux adorables. Des touristes plus ou moins sympas. Un accent Texan abominable et difficile à comprendre. Des stations Gas qui sont de véritables magasins avec nourriture préparée et autre alcools vendus en Arizona et Nouveau-Mexique et des employés au top ! Toujours prêts à rigoler !
Le bilan négatif : La chaleur tout au long du séjour...43° sur Dallas en fin de séjour. Impossible de sortir dans les rues. Beaucoup de "Homeless" dans les rues de l'Hyper Centre de Dallas. Les breakfasts Hôtel toujours les mêmes. On s'y fait.
Donc, positif certes mais le concept commence à fatiguer. Il se pourrait que le modèle RT autonome soit repensé pour le prochain. SI celui qui est en haut nous prête vie.
Pour la suite, attendons les premières photos triées et passées à la moulinette.
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 you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
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
Il arrive souvent qu'on nous demande quoi visiter en Belgique .
Et les réponses ramènent le plus souvent à Bruges , Gand, Anvers et Bruxelles , avec raison , ces villes valant la peine d'être visitées 😉 .
Toutefois, la Belgique, bien que petite , ne se limite pas à ces 4 villes .
J'habite l'une d'entre elles ( Bruxelles) , passe avec plaisir du temps dans les trois autres , mais j'ai envie d'aborder d'autres coins moins connus , qui pourront compléter le séjour de ceux qui ont envie d'en voir un peu plus , ou de voir autre chose .
C'est qu'entre deux voyages , j'aime bien visiter l'un ou l'autre coin du pays où j'habite .
D'où l'idée d'un carnet de balades .
La plupart des endroits dont je vais parler peuvent être visités en faisant l'aller-retour le même jour , au départ de Bruxelles , que ce soit en transports en commun ou en voiture .
Dans l'ordre chronologique des sujets abordés :
- Le barrage de la Gileppe ( province de Liège) -message 2 , page 1
- Le domaine de La Hulpe ( Brabant wallon ) - message 3 , page 1
- Malines ( province d'Anvers ) message 4 , page 1
- La côte - message 5 , page 1
- Le Westhoek , au départ de La Panne - message 6 , page 1
- Le Zwin, au départ de Knokke - message 7 , page 1
- Lier ( entre Malines et Anvers ) - message 8 , page 1
- Mons (Hainaut) - message 9 , page 1
- La région de Florenville . - message 12 , page 1
- Les Cantons de l'Est - message 13 , page 1
- Dinant - message 18 , page 1
- Le jardin japonais d'Hasselt - message 24 , page 2
- Louvain message 29 , page 2
- Louvain-la-neuve - message 32 , page 2
- Ostende - message 42 (page 3) et message 166 (page 9)
- Les floralies de Grand-Bigard . - message 43 , page 3
- Le bois de Halle -message 44 , page 3
- Les pralines - message 54 , page 3
- Charleroi - message 68 , page 4
- Namur - message 92 , page 5
- Le Bois du Cazier ( Marcinelle) - message 95 , page 5
- Les couques et les gozettes - message 96 , page 5
- Liège - message 99 , page 5
- Tournai - message 115 , page 6 .
- Audenarde ( Oudenaarde ) - message 121, page 7
- Jardin botanique de Meise - message 124, page 7 .
- Tongres ( Tongeren ) - message 125 , page 7 .
- Château de Beersel ( Brabant flamand) - message 126, page 7 .
- Bruxelles confinée ( messages 150 et 154 , page 8 )
- L'hôpital Notre Dame à la Rose , à Lessines ( messages 161 et 162 , page 9 ) .
- Westende ( message 167, page 9)
je complète cette liste au fur et à mesure de l'avancement du carnet ...
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
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.
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.
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rental options kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything suddenly fell into place—I told myself, it’s time!
The preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not the south?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or go with the flow?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela about this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(Steak for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
You’ll find here a post with some practical information.
And here, the version of the travel journal without comments.
---/---
As a supplement, the route track.
Not necessarily ultra-accurate since Google has serious gaps for this destination...
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...
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!!!
January 2026
Here we go again for new adventures and the pleasure of sharing them with you here! First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me with the preparations, even with some last-minute improvisations just days before departure. Thanks to Montagnard74, Jojoone1, Songsam, Attila, Dennis2, NadegerFERM, and the authors whose travel journals about Laos inspired me (Montagnard74, Muriel18, Mavietongs...).
In this story, written by Richard and illustrated by me, we’ll tell you about the journey of four friends: Catherine, Richard, Nathalie, and Bruno. A reinvented but overall successful trip, filled with discoveries and surprises, the scents of spices and frangipani flowers, (too) spicy food, sunsets, and... one big mess.
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
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
I’d been wanting to discover Sulawesi for years. But then life happened—COVID, the cost of flight tickets, you name it. Long story short, years went by, but we finally set off as a family for a three-week trip in southern Sulawesi: Rammang Rammang, Rantepao, Sengkang, Bira, and Selayar.
I like to spend a good amount of time in the places I visit, giving myself the chance to really get to know the area and meet locals. So no island-hopping this time—just the south. But when I say "just," it’s not restrictive at all, given how rich this island is in landscapes, little encounters, and magical moments.
Wednesday 07/08 - Thursday 07/09:
We left Montpellier for what was supposed to be five flights, though we only took four to start, landing in Jakarta.
We picked up our luggage there to catch a flight to Makassar the next day. That’s the only way we could get an affordable ticket (702 €).
I won’t bore you with the flight details—there’s not much to say. We arrived at 7 PM and considered heading straight to Makassar that evening. But we opted for a recovery night before taking off again. Good thing we did, because my son’s suitcase was missing...
First contact with the locals was a bit stressful—a trip without your luggage isn’t exactly fun. But right away, a woman reassured us: the suitcase was just enjoying some extra time in Singapore. Maybe it was doing some last-minute shopping. Anyway, nothing serious—it was supposed to arrive at 9 AM the next day. That gave us some breathing room since our flight wasn’t until noon.
So off we went to our hotel (Days Hotel & Suites) near the airport. It was cheap (40 € for three rooms—my kids are older and need their space), but it wasn’t worth much more. The place had definitely seen better days. But no big deal—we were only there for the night, and... we got to watch France beat Morocco in the World Cup live at 3 AM. That’s what really mattered!
Friday 07/10: In search of the lost suitcase
First challenge of the morning: finding our missing suitcase. They sent us to the airport basement, to the staff entrance. We were greeted with smiles, and an airport employee led me through the underground corridors back to the baggage claim. Right on time at 9 AM, the suitcase arrived, just like they’d promised. We were finally complete!
Off we went to change terminals, grab a well-deserved meal, and board our fifth flight to Makassar.
Little side note: I struggled for a while trying to book domestic flights directly on the airlines’ websites with no luck. Without meaning to advertise (though I guess I am a little), I realized it’d be easier to use sites like tiket.com or Traveloka. That turned out to be a great choice—I even ended up booking hotels through them later in the trip.
12:40 PM: We were on our way to Makassar. First good news: we were the only tourists. Well, the only European tourists on the flight, anyway.
No, you’re not dreaming—the bag is full of... potato chip packets.
To each their own souvenirs, I guess...
When we arrived in Makassar, a driver was waiting to take us straight to Rammang Rammang: 250,000 IDR (12 €) to our guesthouse (Rammang Rammang House). Forget about meeting people on the bus—we were headed straight to the first stop of our trip, and it was already stunning.
My kids’ guesthouse:
Ours:
View of the little lake:
But not everything is straightforward around here.
I wanted to get a local SIM card for internet and calls. I found them expensive at Jakarta’s airport (20 € for 20 GB), so I decided to wait. Well, no luck in Rammang Rammang either. You can’t just buy one from the local shop—you need a Telkomsat store (they have the best coverage). So we’d have to wait for Rantepao to get Wi-Fi... When I say "local shop," I mean the little shack around the corner. No big deal—we’d find one easily in Rantepao for 5 € and 25 GB. So there we were, offline, just the four of us enjoying the amazing view.
Saturday 07/11: Rammang Rammang
We woke up early to the sound of wedding music blasting through the village (everyone’s invited!). Off we went to explore the area.
A little walking, a little boat ride (shared with a French tourist and a Polish one—yes, there *are* tourists here, just not many; 750,000 IDR for up to 8 people) through a lovely canal, and we discovered the karst site. It was peaceful and beautiful.
The river:
The karst site:
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Okay, Palermo—we know it. We go there to marvel at the architectural wonders born from the Arab-Norman-Byzantine-Gothic mix. And rightly so. We also go to treat our taste buds to all kinds of delights, both savory and sweet. Again, rightly so. We go to succumb to the charms of Palermo’s women, their sun-kissed skin glowing with golden highlights. Still, rightly so. And all while fantasizing about a mafia we’ll never actually see. Anyway.
But you’ll also find street art everywhere, even in the historic center. Sometimes, you just need to step a few meters away from the main tourist highways like Cassaro, Via Maqueda, or the main arteries of the Ballarò, Capo, or Vucciria markets to stumble upon some amazing murals. Duck into one or two slightly grimy alleys, weaving past trash and crumbling walls, and you’ll find real gems.
For example, just 50 meters south of the main artery of the Mercato del Capo, there’s a great spot with dozens of murals in a tiny neighborhood of run-down mini-houses. You’ll find plenty more south of the Mercato di Ballarò, in the Albergheria (the grittier side, not the one near Cassaro). There’s some in Ballarò itself too, but it’s hard to spot when the market’s in full swing with stalls everywhere. La Kalsa isn’t left out either, nor is Vucciria—just step away from the restaurant-packed streets.
Here are a few examples that really caught my eye.
(In the heart of Albergheria, on a street every visitor walks down—lovely message from an unidentified artist)
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.
From Southern Shikoku, between land and sea, to the blue waters of Miyakojima and finally Tokyo’s megacity
Hi everyone,
I have to admit, I really hesitated before deciding to write this travel journal... Writing one takes a lot of time and energy, and since this is my 4th trip, I wondered if it would actually interest anyone other than myself (both for the discovery and the writing). But after a few "Are you going to write a journal?" requests and especially the renewed pleasure from reading other travelers’ travel journals about Japan or elsewhere on this forum or elsewhere, I’ve decided to share this 4th installment in the Land of the Rising Sun here.
The itinerary:
27 full days, from late May to late June 2025, right in the middle of the rainy season, including:
-->13 days in Shikoku, from Kochi (Kochi Prefecture) to Matsuyama (Ehime Prefecture)
-->7 days in Miyakojima (Okinawa Prefecture)
-->7 days in Tokyo
The trip was decided on fairly last-minute this year, as usual.
I regularly check flight prices to track fluctuations for this destination, even without concrete plans. Finding a slightly cheaper direct flight (900 €) than what I’d seen in previous months (around 1,200–1,400 € on average) for a Paris-Tokyo route with Japanese airline ANA was too tempting to resist the urge to return to this enchanting country. After long hesitations between exploring the San’in region (Matsue, Tottori, Yamaguchi) and southern Shikoku, the decision was made—I took the plunge! The tickets are booked: Paris to Kochi with a layover in Tokyo, all with ANA, the airline I’d been dreaming of... for 1,120 € per person. Okay, it’s not cheap, but it’s still better than in 2023.
We leave in 2 weeks!! Now it’s just a matter of getting everything ready!
Intense work ahead in these 2 weeks to:
finalize a more precise itinerary and reach an agreement—yep, because even though we both love Japan, our preferences differ slightly, and we have to choose between exploring new places or taking time to revisit beloved spots...
decide how much time to spend in each selected area without rushing while still exploring
research places that might interest us and watch videos about Japan
book accommodations: yes, it’s possible to do this on the spot as we go, but last year, we noticed that last-minute options were pretty expensive, so we’re booking ahead—even if it means keeping a few options open while we decide or see if better deals pop up later
reserve rental cars
order yen
check the weather regularly and wonder if choosing the *tsuyu* (rainy season) was really a good idea—and whether we’ll be stuck in non-stop rain???
What a tough job, right? Traveling to Japan for a month—such a hard life!
Despite this being my 4th trip, the excitement is just as intense as the first time.
The only small downside is that when we booked the flight tickets, there were only a few seats left, so we’re only sitting together on the international return flight. Plus, on the outbound flight, we’ve got the middle seats.
Another lingering question: what French-language films will be available? According to the internet, the selection seems limited.
Oh well, these are just minor details—it’s almost time to fly!
PS: I’ll be posting slowly and irregularly... so for those interested, be patient or maybe set an alert...
Before Our Departure
Preparing for this trip started 9 months before our departure in June. For those planning a similar itinerary, it’s important to book accommodations well in advance, especially in the Okavango and Savuti campsites—otherwise, you might not find any availability.
Introduction
After visiting Zambia three years ago and Namibia and western Botswana a year and a half ago, this year we chose Zimbabwe (Hwange NP) and the northern half of Botswana.
Our flight from Paris was to Victoria Falls with Ethiopian Airlines, with a layover in Addis Ababa. We rented a 4x4 from Bushlore in Kasane, complete with two rooftop tents since there are four of us on this adventure. Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4 and, most importantly, gave us a rundown of the vehicle and its equipment. Pay close attention to what they tell you—it could be crucial if something goes wrong, as it did for us during the trip.
Our Itinerary
We arrived on June 12th at noon. At Victoria Falls Airport, we got our double-entry visa right away—I’d already pre-booked it online on the site https://www.evisa.gov.zw/.
Since our vehicle was in Botswana, we had to cross the border from Victoria Falls into Botswana for the first time.
The next morning, Bushlore picked us up from our guesthouse to collect our 4x4. After completing the formalities, we headed toward Zimbabwe and the town of Victoria Falls.
We woke up early the next morning to be at Victoria Falls at sunrise. The scenery was stunning, but since it was the start of the dry season, the Zambezi was still high, so the falls had a strong flow. This made it hard to fully appreciate their beauty.
In the early afternoon, we left for Hwange NP, where we stayed for 4 days. Two days at Gwango campsite near Dete, followed by two days at Robins Camp. We expected to see more animals at Robins, but that wasn’t the case. In Hwange, we didn’t spot any predators, but we did see plenty of mammals (buffalo, elephants, giraffes, zebras, and antelopes).
After a few days in Zimbabwe, we crossed back into Botswana at Pandamatenga. We stopped at Nata Lodge for a good night’s rest—driving on the dirt roads is exhausting.
We left Nata and headed toward Nxai Pan. The road was sandy but manageable. We made a small detour to admire some beautiful baobabs at "Baines Baobabs." Then we continued to our campsite, Nxai Pan South Camp. Keep in mind that many campsites in Botswana aren’t fenced (except for the shower/toilet areas), so animals can roam freely within the camp. Take precautions, especially after dark.
After our stop in Nxai Pan, we headed to Maun. We decided to break our journey in Maun before heading to Moremi and the Okavango Delta for three reasons: first, we needed to stock up on supplies and fuel for the next 5 days; second, our fridge had broken (luckily, Bushlore has a branch in Maun); and third, the drive from Nxai to our camp in Xakanaxa in the delta would’ve taken too long. I always avoid driving after dark.
We arrived at our Xakanaxa camp on June 21st in the early afternoon. Not wanting to waste time, we booked a boat ride on the Okavango Delta, leaving at 4:00 PM for a 2-hour sunset cruise. For those interested, to the right of the Xakanaxa X1 site, there’s a sign for boat rides. The organizer is very professional and offers prices that are nothing like those of the lodges.
It was a beautiful ride through the delta with a stunning sunset. Being on a boat is much more relaxing than driving on the dirt roads. That didn’t stop us from doing self-drive safaris the next morning and late afternoon, though.
Then came the time to leave the delta and head toward Savuti, a much drier region. And that’s when the toughest part of our trip began. First, we decided to go up via Khwai. The rainy season was over, but the area was still marshy. We had to cross a few small water patches, testing the depth to make sure we could get through. Luckily, a sign on the road pointed us toward a drier route. We reached Khwai without any issues, but then we made a major mistake. Instead of taking the main track toward Mababe Gate to reach Savuti Camp, we took a straight path north and then a right turn to get to our camp. Bad call—we got stuck in the sand, with one rear wheel buried halfway and a front wheel off the ground. We were genuinely scared we wouldn’t get out, especially since we were on a deserted track, 20 kilometers from our destination, with night falling in two hours. This is where paying attention to the vehicle instructions really paid off—we had to use the jack to get out of the mess. The result: we arrived at Savuti campsite just before dark (Distance: 146.3 km, Duration: 9 hours, 56 minutes, and 3 seconds, Average speed: 14.7 km/h, tracked with Osmand). At reception, the staff couldn’t understand how we’d gotten there—we hadn’t passed through any of Savuti’s reserve entry gates.
The next morning, no one felt like driving, so we did a game drive with a guide. I don’t know if it was some kind of reward, but the outing was amazing. We saw three lions and, best of all, a pack of African wild dogs that we had time to admire and photograph. The next day, we did a short self-drive and found one of the lions from the day before drinking at a waterhole. That was the end of our Savuti adventure.
Now we’re heading to Kasane. We returned our vehicle and settled in for our last two nights there. The next morning, since we no longer had a car, we decided to do one last early-morning game drive in Chobe NP. It turned out great—we followed two brother lions and saw plenty of other mammals. The only downside of Chobe is the number of tourists, which was a change from the other parks we’d visited. That said, we’re tourists too, so...
In the evening, we took one last boat ride on the Chobe River to end on a high note with a beautiful sunset.
After a good night’s sleep and plenty of wonderful memories, landscapes, animals, and emotions, it was time to leave. We left early in the morning with the same taxi company as before to cross the border into Zimbabwe one last time and head to the airport, where we took off to return to France.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
This travel journal aims to help future travelers (well, I hope so!), since there’s so little information available about this remote archipelago. Big thanks to Lolodesiles and Ayis for answering my questions while I planned this trip!
Context
This is our fourth trip to Indonesia as a couple—after Java-Bali in 2011, Flores-Komodo in 2013, and Sulawesi in 2016—each time for three weeks. It’s also our tenth trip to Southeast Asia overall.
We’re traveling like we have in previous years: with a rough itinerary that often changes based on who we meet, tips from other travelers, how tired we are, or what we’re feeling in the moment. In the Moluccas, it’ll change constantly, mostly depending on transportation.
Our only accommodation booking: the first few nights in Ambon when we arrive.
Planned route (to be refined on the spot): Ambon - Banda Islands - Lease Islands - Ternate - Tidore - Halmahera (between Sofifi and Tobelo) - Morotai and the neighboring unnamed archipelago.
Flights: Lyon-Paris-Singapore on Air France (428 € round-trip), with good meals, champagne, and wine (we like our little comforts when going on vacation 😏). Then Singapore-Jakarta-Ambon on Air Asia and Garuda.
Return flight: Ternate-Jakarta-Singapore on Lion Air, with a 3-day stopover in Singapore before heading home.
Episode 1: Ambon to Banda
Our guesthouse, booked two days before departure, is 45 minutes from Ambon Airport, near Natsepa Beach (northeast of Leihitu). It’s a pretty average beach—quiet on weekdays but packed on Sundays (we saw the difference). It’s lined with warungs.
This rainy day helps us readjust to the atmosphere of this country we love so much.
Our “Solim Guesthouse” is a lovely house with a living/dining room and garden, costing 15 € per night for two, including a hearty breakfast.
Dinner is at Gaba Gaba, a great restaurant just a short walk away, right by the water, recommended by our host. Fun fact: it’s in the Lonely Planet, and it might be the only LP-listed spot in the Moluccas that actually matches the description (the others either don’t exist or have nothing to do with what’s advertised 😠).
For the next two days, the super-friendly owner lends us his scooter. We set off to explore the coastal villages in northern Leihitu (the western part of Ambon Island, which has a weird shape).
Laundry and trucks washed in the same stream.
Liang Beach, described as the island’s most beautiful, is almost gone (climate change or something else?), but the colors are magical.
We continue 25 km toward a snorkeling spot our host recommended, taking a gorgeous, deserted little road through tiny villages in clove plantations (oh, those unforgettable scents!), stunning coves, and dense forest.
We’re greeted dozens of times with “Hello Mister”—a daily routine in the Moluccas. Every time we stop, we pose for photos to be saved on locals’ smartphones. They don’t see tourists often.
We ask for directions to the snorkeling spot (not easy—we only know basic Indonesian like *Selamat pagi*, *siang*, *sore*, and other polite phrases). Not many people know where it is (especially since we never know which village we’re in), but we eventually reach a small village that seems to be the right place. 🙂
We ask a local to take us there by boat (it’s not reachable by land).
The spot is at most 100 meters long, but the coral is in good condition (apparently not dynamited by fishermen, unlike in other parts of this beautiful country where fishing methods are destructive and nature pays the price 😠). The fish are plentiful and diverse. It’s a great start before heading to Banda. We’re happy to have the place to ourselves… though we don’t yet realize we won’t see a single tourist for the rest of the trip!
After two days of rest, we head to Tulehu Port in the morning, aiming for the Banda Islands. We know the journey is often tricky: the Pelni ferry runs twice a month but doesn’t match our dates, the 10-seat Suzi Air plane is always full (you can’t book—you have to show up on Mondays and Fridays), and it’s often canceled due to weather. So we opt for the Tuesday speedboat (which also gets canceled if there are waves or wind), with the next one on Saturday.
We’re used to Indonesian ports—crowded, rusty boats, no English speakers—but we still feel lost. When I ask about the speedboat to Bandaneira, people gesture wildly, someone takes me to the “harbor office,” then tells me there’s no boat, others try to sell me tickets, and some just say, “No boat.”
Luckily, an English-speaking local approaches us and confirms the speedboat is broken. The next one will be Saturday *if* it’s fixed—otherwise, even later. 🤪 😠
We’re crushed. We came here for the Banda Islands… 🙁
We decide waiting five days for a maybe-boat isn’t an option, so we decide to head straight to North Moluccas, which was planned for later. We’re so disappointed we don’t even want to stay in the area. The Lease Islands don’t appeal to us despite what we’ve read, and Seram would deserve its own trip with its remote mountain tribes.
Huge disappointment—we’d been dreaming of Banda for months, with its incredible drop-offs like Bunaken, its islands covered in nutmeg trees, etc. I’d read that Banda is in the world’s top 5, alongside Bunaken (amazing—we went in 2016), Komodo (incredible—we went in 2013), Sipadan, and another spot I’ve forgotten.
We take a taxi back to Ambon (45 minutes) to a travel agency to buy plane tickets to Ternate. There’s a daily ATR72 flight at noon—perfect timing.
Ambon is the capital of South Moluccas (or Central, depending on who you ask!) with 300,000 people. The city doesn’t seem unpleasant, but we don’t stop.
On the plane, there are only about ten passengers for 72 seats. The flight attendants are stunning, as always with Wings Air—clearly, they’re hired for their looks. 😊
Stopover in Bacan—a runway in the middle of coconut trees serving a tiny town—then we fly over countless volcanoes, the last one towering over Ternate.
Bonjour,
De retour sur le forum - et première rédaction d'un espèce de carnet de retour de notre 4ème voyage en Indo.
Contexte : une trentaine de jours, en scooter et en duo, sur Florès (et une petite incursion dans l'archipel de Solor, plus précisément à Lembata (chut, faut pas trop en parler !!!), qui donne envie d'en faire beaucoup plus là bas malgré les infrastructures sporadiques), en partie dans des destinations déjà bien connues du forum (la classique Ruteng / Bajawa / Riung / Moni voir baie de Maumere) ... et qui ne parlera pas du PN de Komodo ou de Wae Rebo, puisque nous n'y sommes pas allés 🏴☠️.
Texte en anglais (issu d'une autre plateforme). Sans nul doute, des traducteurs intelligents ou pas marcheront à merveille en cas d'anglophobie 🤪.
Disponible à toute fin utile pour des détails ou infos.
Equippement : Yam' Nmax 155 ; 2x saccoches cavalières (25L) + sac de selle (30L) + saccoche tunnel (15L pour le matos photo) ; casques et vêtements d'enduro amenés depuis la France.
Itinéraire : boucle depuis Labuan bajo jusqu'à Pulau Lembata ; juillet-août 2026
Road conditions graded from A (excellent) to D (very bad, at least for a Scooter… a CRF/KLX or even honda ADV would do better on that)
D1 : Labuan Bajo – Reok via Ranggoe, Rego & Tagol (130km ; 5hrs). Section LBajo – Rego (90 km ; B) is quite good tarmac, despite a lot of elevation with many small valleys and passes. Rego – Tagol (10km ; D) is a stone road (not gravel), some ascents & very poor condition ; necessary to lower tyre pressure. Tagol – Reok port (22km, quality depends considerably from D to B). Reok port – Towncenter : B. Night @Iffah Homestay (100k for fan room, mandi attached, no breakfast), simple but clean. Notes : path to danau Sano Limbung was closed ; access to Tiwu Pai & Wae Kuli (waterfalls) not permitted in july 2026.
D2 : Reok – Riung via Pota (105km ; 3h-3h30). The road is very narrow in some part, thanks to the uncut bushes (lowering visibility hence extra caution as animals/people can suddenly appear in a turn…) but generally good condition except many eroded sections and some unpaved ones. Grade C/B. 2 nights @Mentos (285k for AC room)
D3 : Boat tour in Riung (booked directly with a captain, 800k for two for private boat incl. lunch and NP fees) + sunset from Watu Mitong Riung (should not be missed).
D4 : Riung – Muku Saki via Mbay (around 100km ; 3h30). Quality varies from A in the vicinity of Mbay to eroded sections (C) in secluded places. Night @Sao Paolo Homestay (250k for fan room with mandi, maybe overpriced but nice house and great food). Note : if you happen to pass by Mbay on Saturday, the market is well worth a stop (cheapest Ikat on the trip : you’ll be asked normal prices providing you’re OK in Bahasa…)
D5 : Muku Saki – Tanjung Kajuwulu (near Ndete) (90km, 3h). Many patholes, eroded (C). Night at Déjà Vu Homestay (220k for a matress on the floor & outside mandi/toilets ; I woud define this as a tourist trap – the quote we had for food was double priced too…)
D6 : Tanjung Kajuwulu – Waiterang (east of Maumere, 55km , 1h30). Pathholes till maumere, then All good (TransFlores), C/A. Night at Sunset Cottage (new concrete room, very serene place ; 270k for AC with bathroom ; much prefered Sunset over Lena House (more customers, more built up).
D7 : Waiterang – Larantuka via Boru and Eputobi (TransFlores ; grade A ; 115km / 2h40). Particularly liked the drink stalls (marked as Rest Area Eputobi) and the out of order aquatic park just before Larantuka (obyej wisata waiplatin). Night @ Dewy Onong Homestay, which is not advertising itself as Larantuka Beach Homestay as some contributor signals here and on goole maps review. Best breakfast of the trip (Cumi Cumi !!!) ; 275k for AC room with bathroom.
D8 : Local Boat (Kapal Kayu) from the main port to Lembata (Lewoleba). Departure 8am ; price 60k/head + 50k for the bike. Stop enroute on Adonara (where we did not stop due to fights between communities). Night @Elmany Homestay (275k for AC room with bathroom, fan room with shared bathroom also available). Whole afternoon at Pantai Hadakewa, fantastic place (good snorkeling, great views of Ile Api aka Gn Lewotolo). Road condition : A (did not expect the TransLembata to be that good…).
D9 : Loop around Ile Api (50km, 2hrs), anticlockwise. Stops enroute at Situs Tulang Paus (whale squeletton), pantai Jotona, pantai Wena (we expected to snorkel from there, but wind was very strong that day), situs Watu Nale, Selat Sonia. The western coast is far less interesting. Road conditions : bad (C) on the eastern side (up to Riangbeda), good (B/A) afterwards. Night @Elmany Homestay.
D10 : Lewoleba – Lamalera via the western and south coast (70km, 2h30). Good road (B) for roughly the first 55km (up to Tapobali), then eroded track for the last 15km (in some parts steep and dangerous) up to Lamalera (D/C). Notes : 1/ Kuma resort denied us the entry for some drink ; 2/Pantai Waijarang « complex » is abandonned but closed with fences ; you can still sneak in ; 3/ some reports advise to skip Bukit Cinta (foreigner entry fee) for Bukit Doa Watomiten (stations of the cross) ; well Bukit Cinta has also been abandonned (well spent money…sic) but remains opened with structures falling (quickly) appart. Night @Lamalera Inn (200k per head including meals ; very basic fan room + attached mandi). Planned 2 nights, spent only one, as it’s the only tenant I had difficulties with (only interested in money, initially stated crazy prices, starts loud music at 6am … and drinking moke at 8am…)
D11 : Trip to Wulandoni for the Barter Market (Saturday only). Bad road (C) along the coast. Had to report at the Kantor upon arrival, which quite surprisingly asked 100k per person (foreigner) to go inside the (outside) market. Other « local » tourists (a group from Jakarta) were not asked to pay. Well, since a market is a public space and not a zoo, we refused payment and enjoyed the activity from the kopi stall next to it. Returned then to Lamalera for the catches of the day, then to Lewoleba via the mountain road (45km, 2 hours). First 10km to Puor is in very bad condition and uphill (D/C). The remaining is on a newly constructed road (A). Note : Air Panas Sabutobo is abandonned and falling apart (again…) but there are still some water pipes along the river that you can enjoy (depending how lucky you are, just with the forest sounds as companion). Night @Elmany Homestay
D12 : Chill day alond the northern coast (Batu Payung, Pantai Hadakewa with lot of snorkeling, drove till Wailolong and backtracked to Pantai Lewolein for more snorkeling (nice canyons there !) and another fantastic sunset over Ile Api (see GMaps pictures)). Night @Elmany Homestay
D13 : Monday weekly market at Pada, southwest of Lewoleba. Renowned but honnestly dont plan any itinerary specifically for it, just an ordinary Kampung weekly market. Returned to Larantuka and Flores with the 12pm local boat (the same boat that leaves from Larantuka at 8am). Same prices as the first leg. Night @ Dewy Onong Homestay
D14 : Larantuka – Waiterang along the northern coast (100km, 3h) via Pantai Kawaliwu, Tewuk Lewokluok (trail is easy to find, very nice snorkelling in a lagoon), Pantai Lato (to my opinion the most beautiful beach on Flores and you’ll be the only visitor, as opposed to Pantai Koka) and Pantai Hia, until rejoining the TransFlores near Nebe. Grade C on the costal eroded road / track. 3 nights @Lena Guesthouse (booked ahead as it fills up quickly, but we prefered its neighbour Sunset Beach Guesthouse)
D15 : Snorkeling trip organised by Lena Guesthouse (200k per head excluding NP fees and lunch)). The drop-off near Pulau Babi is a very nice spot.
D16 : scooter day trip around the Egon Range (too lazy to hike it…), through nice Sikka villages (route : Watublapi, Umauta, Bola, pantai Doreng, Nakatoli, foot of Gn Egon, Air panas Blidit). The track from Natakoli to the foot of Gn Egon is very steep, damaged and wet (with moss) ; I would recommend not to attempt that in case of bad weather.
D17 : Waiterang – Moni (130km, 3h30, transflores grade A/B) via Pantai Koka (refused to pay the mafia entry fee…) and Jopu (some rumah Adat Lio). Stopped at Museum Bikon Blewut, south of Maumere. Very nice artefacts (especially wooden statues from Papuan, great ikat collection) although very disorganized and sadly non-visited (hence masterpieces fall into oblivion). 2 Nights @Liahz Lodge (150k for fan room, basic bathroom… but right next to Air Panas Liasembe (free, no closing time) !!!).
D18 : Sunrise from Kelimutu with a nice weather (stayed until 8.30am). I don’t know if the sunrise is really worth it (lot of people ascending and watching the sunrise – a lot but nothing compared to e.g. Gn Bromo), nearly everyone going down around 7am, then there is virtually nobody. Trip (20km one way, good road B) to Kampung Adat Nggela (Lio). Although the village is habited and mostly out of the beaten path, I have mixed fillings due to the fact that most ladies (some are pushy) try to sell you (bad) pieces of ikat.
D19 : Moni – Ende via Detusoko paddy fields, Kampung Adat Saga (Lio) and Puncak Ndona ; 75km 2h30. We really liked Saga (nice setting on the mountain, friendly villagers, no selling, mix between traditional and more modern houses in that lively village). Sunset from Bukit Raja, on the peninsula with a 360 view on Gn Iya, Gn Meja Kota Ende and the mountains behind. Note : at the end of the road (search for Gunung Meja Tourist Info Center), there is a (sand) track leading to the path. 1/ only intend the track if you have off road driving experience ; 2/ dont trust the walking time stated by Maps.me. Took us 45mins on a steady pace to reach the summit. Night @Hoja Homestay, 300k for a comfortable AC room with bathroom.
D20 : Ende – Bajawa, via Air Panas Mengeruda ; grade A, 120km, 3 hours. Note : don’t plan to short in Mengeruda (Soa), very easy to spend a half day there, especially if playing with local kids. Stay @Cinnamon GH, 250k for double with fan and hot shower (cheaper options with shared hot shower availlable).
D21 : First day in Bajawa : Watu Nari Wowo (Avatar Hill, sic…), Kampung Adat Ngada Tololela & Gurusina (very very friendly people, complementary views of Gn Inerie & Wolo Deru). Sunset from Puncak Manulalu (well… Heaven’s door Bar & Restaurant)
D22 : Second day in Bajawa : Kampung Adat Ngio (hardly visited, best view on Gn Inerie), Air Panas Malanage, Kampung Adat Bena (the most visited Ngada village (after Bela ?) in the area, we went there at the end of the afternoon to avoid tours, early morning would be fine too), and Gunung Wolobobo for a terrific sunset
D23 : returned to Gunung Wolobobo for sunrise with Gn Ebulobo in the distance (search for a track on the eastern slope, near the communication antenna). You can circuit the rim to the usual viewpoint (westside, sunset spot), the path is easy to find. Then took again the road to Aimere, visiting Kampung Adat Belaraghi enroute (the setting is maybe less rewarding than all the previous villages). 56km ; 1h30. The road to Belaraghi is fine, except the final part.
D24 : Aimere – Ruteng (105km, 3h30). Nice detour by the paddy fields of Wodo (southwest of Golo Loni) of Sunset from Golo Curu (nice encounters with locals). Night @Tange GH, 130k for room with outside (private) bathroom, no breakfast.
D25 : Surroundings of Ruteng (paddy fields north and east of ruteng ; Maps.me has funny tracks starting from Kenda), and the rather pleasant city itself (pasar, churches, lapangan). We finally skipped Liang Bua.
D26 : Ruteng - Labuan Bajo (130km, 3h30). No visits of the waterfalls close to the TransFlores (entry fee (with bule prices) + mandatory guide etc…). Sunset from Bukit Hercadi with very few locals (Bukit Sylvia & Bukit Amelia, just south, were packed). 2 nights @Wellamas Homestay, away from the harbour and its advantages/disadvantages. 230k for comfortable AC room with hot shower.
D27 : New road to Golo Mori Convention Center (another big money well spent…), with nice views on the strait separating Flores from Pulau Rinca. Some empty beaches (e.g. Pantai Pasir Pajang ; we were there on a weekday perhaps frequented by people from LBajo only). 30km (40 mins) one way, perhaps the fastest road of Flores…
D28 : Morning on the peninsula north of Labuan Bajo before taking a flight to Jakarta in the afternoon. On Google maps, the asphalt road only goes to Teras Langit ; it now (august 2026) continues to Puncak Basok and is still in progress towards the eastern part of the peninsula. On the way back, two other nice Bukit where you can enjoy nice views on the bay (and the resorts…) : Bukit Lontar & Bukit Beta. Note : we only found one public (and nice and quiet) beach in the area ; tagged as Sunset Point Beach on Gmaps. All the rest was closed by fences ; they are privately owned (although the Indonesian consitution grants the coastline as public space).
We're a family of five: one dad, one mom, and three kids aged 10, 15, and 18.
Before diving into each stop in more detail, here are a few general thoughts:
We wanted to sample a bit of everything Japan has to offer in terms of landscapes, accommodation, and transport. We were after walks, temples, restaurants, shopping, and some downtime—but no "all-inclusive experiences" or museums for this first visit.
Three medium-sized (60x42x25) canvas suitcases, plus a duffel bag and a few small backpacks. 23 kg in the hold on the way out, 60 kg on the way back. 36 kg of shopping, without even trying. I think this is the maximum suitcase size if you don’t want to stress on the Shinkansen: they fit easily in the overhead racks.
Round-trip with Cathay Pacific, layover in Hong Kong: no need to collect luggage in Hong Kong—we checked it in at departure and picked it up in Tokyo, and the same on the way back (checked in Osaka, picked up at our final destination). This let us explore Hong Kong without worrying about our bags. Food and entertainment were pretty good—meals included a little Häagen-Dazs on each flight, and the entertainment had way more Asian cinema than you’d find on a Western airline, which was a nice way to see how much weight Western culture carries in Asia.
The original plan was to fly directly from Ishigaki to Hong Kong, but due to Typhoon Dolphin, we had to cancel the Ishigaki leg. Cathay didn’t bat an eye about swapping the Ishigaki-HK flight for an Osaka-HK one, even though it was twice as long.
We were a bit too attached to the idea of ending the trip with some beach time and replaced Ishigaki with Shirahama. It was a mistake—we should’ve visited Hiroshima or spent a little more time in Tokyo instead.
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
Hello and welcome aboard this new travel journal!
We’re heading off to Ireland together—a country I’ve wanted to explore for a very long time.
The moment has finally arrived.
We’ll be traveling as a family—my wife, my husband, and our 7-year-old daughter.
Here’s our itinerary:
24/07: Flight from Marseille to Dublin, overnight in Dublin
25/07: Dublin, overnight in Dublin
26/07: Dublin, overnight in Dublin
27/07: Pick up rental car, drive to Dingle, overnight near Tralee on the peninsula
28/07: Visit the Ring of Kerry
29/07: Adare, Bunratty Castle, Galway, overnight in Outheragh, near Galway
30/07: Cliffs of Moher, overnight in Outheragh
31/07: Connemara, overnight in Outheragh
01/08: Drive to Sligo via Westport and Downpatrick Head, overnight in Sligo
02/08: Slieve League, Silver Strand Beach, Glencolmcille, overnight in Sligo
03/08: Drive to Derry via Glenveagh National Park, overnight in Derry
04/08: Giant’s Causeway, Dunluce Castle, Portrush, Derry, overnight in Derry
05/08: Drive to Belfast, visit Belfast, overnight in Lisburn (Belfast suburbs)
06/08: Game of Thrones filming locations: Dark Hedges, Carrick-a-Rede, Ballintoy, etc., overnight in Lisburn
07/08: Drive to the Wicklow Mountains, visit Wicklow Mountains National Park, overnight in Blessington
08/08: Drive back to Dublin and return to Marseille.
Cost breakdown:
Flights:
Outbound flights with KLM via Amsterdam for 3: 175 € + 40,000 Flying Blue miles (so essentially a free ticket)
Return flight with Aer Lingus for 3: 489 €
Rental car:
10 days booked with Enterprise via Carigami: 443 € including zero-excess insurance.
Accommodation:
Dublin: 3 nights at Maldron Hotel New Cross: 394 €
Tralee: 2 nights in a caravan (Ocean Trail Oasis): 292 €
Outheragh: 3 nights Airbnb, family room with private bathroom: 430 €
Sligo: 2 nights at Clayton Hotel: 456 €
Derry: 2 nights at Belfray Inn: 255 €
Lisburn: 2 nights at Temple Golf Club: 232 €
Blessington: 1 night at Baltyboys Lodges B&B: 158 €
That brings our total to 3,325 € for three.
On the ground, visits, fuel, and food cost around 2,500 €.
So this was quite an expensive trip.
A few price examples:
1 liter of unleaded fuel: 1.89 €
3-day pass in Dublin: 18 €
1 scoop of ice cream: 5 to 6.5 €
Castle visit: 15 € per person
A coffee: 3-4 €
A glass of wine at a restaurant: 8-10 €
A half-pint of Guinness: 7-12 €
Now, here’s the day-by-day account of our adventure in Ireland:
Our decision is our decision. And it’s firm and final. Next winter, our plane will spread its great wings toward the island of Ceylon! "Wait a minute... Ceylon... Ceylon... that name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it on the globe Grandma gave me for Christmas! Ceylon... Oh right, I’ve got it: Ceylon is the name of my tea!" Exactly. But the name on your pretty tea box is also the one used until 1972 for this island nation, a speck on the Indian Ocean at the southern tip of the Indian subcontinent: Sri Lanka!
For this new adventure, I’m exceptionally leaving my Flo behind, cowardly replaced by a double dose of testosterone. To write the book of this journey with me, I’m bringing along my brother, who’s used to this kind of thing, and... a guest star: My model of resilience. My dad! All aboard! Or rather, all aboard our tuk-tuk! Yes, you read that right: A real tuk-tuk, a little colorful rolling box that putters along at two miles an hour. The idea? Well, Sri Lanka and its winding roads overlooking the vastness of lush nature are tailor-made for this kind of vehicle. And since it’s one of only two countries in the world that allow foreigners to rent and drive these mini speedsters, we’ll be crisscrossing the island in our two-square-meter rolling box. Plus, adopting this mode of transport is a surefire way to connect directly with the locals, who’ll surely be curious to see a foreigner driving their iconic vehicle. Not to mention the... let’s say... spicy anecdotes it might generate. I mean, heading into a subtropical zone with my jet-black dad and his unpredictable digestive flora while deliberately choosing the tuk-tuk as our *only* means of transport? That’s the winning combo for an unforgettable adventure! "More seriously, Dad, Sullivan, I’m already loving the idea of living this adventure together, the three of us—brothers and father..."
So, does the intro to this new adventure get your salivary glands going? Yes? Too bad. Because unfortunately, the program handed out by the lady at the entrance has been slightly... let’s say *crumpled*. Some might even say "scrunched up and nearly tossed in the trash." First, six days ago, as the countdown echoed in us like a call to adventure, Cyclone Ditwah grabbed Sri Lanka, played with it like a rag doll, and left it battered on the ground. The toll is devastating: over a thousand dead, thousands of homes wiped out by relentless rains, roads and railways swallowed by massive mudslides. A country wounded once again, after the civil war, the 2004 tsunami, and the post-Covid economic crisis.
But as if this weather disaster wasn’t enough to shake our unbreakable adventurer spirit, fate decided to mess with us further by cutting our trio down to two. The victim? My brother, violently turned away because of a simple date on his passport that didn’t match the border officials’ expectations. Return to sender!
So now it’s just the two of us allowed to board the Qatar Airways Airbus A380 for this trip. If he were here, Denis Brognart would say, "And in the end, only one remains!" Except I know you’ll be with us, following our adventures! Right?
Hello everyone, I’m happy to welcome you to this new travel journal.
We’re heading to Costa Rica together—a Central American destination that dreams are made of for many French travelers and attracts crowds from France.
It was the country’s wild nature and safety that convinced us to go, since we’re traveling with our 7-year-old little one.
We didn’t have much vacation time in February 2026 (only 12 days), so we optimized as much as possible.
Here’s the itinerary:
Wednesday, February 11: Flight from Marseille to San Jose via Paris and Atlanta
Thursday, February 12: Pick up the car, drive to Poas Volcano, visit La Paz Waterfall Gardens
Friday, February 13: Poas Volcano and drive to Manuel Antonio
Saturday, February 14: Manuel Antonio National Park
Sunday, February 15: Nauyaca Waterfall and Playa Linda
Monday, February 16: Drive to Monte Verde and Santa Elena Reserve
Tuesday, February 17: El Tigre Waterfall Reserve and Treetopia Park
Wednesday, February 18: Monte Verde Reserve with a guide and drive to La Fortuna
Thursday, February 19: Sloth guided tour, Observatory Lodge Park
Friday, February 20: Arenal Volcano National Park, Termalistas del Arenal hot springs, and night tour
Saturday, February 21: Return to San Jose, flight to Paris via Atlanta
Sunday, February 22: Arrival in Paris and flight to Marseille.
That gives us a solid 9 days in the country.
Budget breakdown:
Costa Rica is an expensive country, but no more so than France. However, almost all hikes and waterfalls are paid entry, which can really add up.
For meals, sodas (6–10 €) are cheaper than restaurants (10–20 € per dish).
Flights:
We chose Delta Airlines for the price: Marseille to San Jose was 740 € per person (modifiable, with checked baggage and seat selection included).
Other direct flights from Europe were priced between 1200 € and 1600 € with more restrictive conditions.
That’s 2220 € for the family.
Accommodations:
Alajuela, first night: 139 € (1 night) at Rodeo Estancia Boutique Hotel, with personalized airport pickup, transfer to the hotel, and a briefing from Vert Costa Rica agency the next day.
Poas: 66 € (1 night) at Cabañas Tierra Fértil (entire apartment).
Manuel Antonio: 394 € (3 nights) at La Palapa Ecolodge (hotel in the jungle).
Monte Verde: Chalet Aloha Monteverde Cloud Forest (2 bedrooms): 125 € (2 nights).
La Fortuna: Arenal Dream Garden (1 bedroom): 217 € (3 nights).
Total: 941 €.
Car rental:
I went through Vert Costa Rica agency (Vincent is a French expat who set up the agency in Costa Rica and makes great YouTube videos with useful tips).
I rented a 4x4 that was delivered to the hotel the day after arrival and returned at the airport before the flight. The total was 772 €, including full insurance (zero deductible), a child seat, and a phone with a Costa Rican SIM and WhatsApp. The rental company was Poas Rent a Car. The vehicle was well-maintained—no complaints.
Gas: 100 € for the whole trip (3 fill-ups).
Activities:
To get discounts, I bought the pass offered by Vincent, which paid for itself after just one activity. It cost me 30 € (promo since I rented the car through him).
Prices are for 3 people. I’ve added stars to rate them:
La Paz Waterfall Gardens ****: 112 €
Poas Volcano National Park *: 33 €
Manuel Antonio National Park ****: 35 €
Nauyaca Waterfall ***: 25 €
Santa Elena Reserve **: 45 €
El Tigre Waterfall Reserve ****: 141 € (with meal)
Treetopia (ziplining, suspension bridges) **: 250 €
Guided tour of Monte Verde Reserve ***: 113 €
Sloth guided tour (with breakfast) ***: 115 €
Arenal Observatory Lodge (with meal) ****: 102 €
Arenal Volcano National Park *: 34 €
Termalistas del Arenal ****: 20 €
Night tour ***: 116 €
Total: 1171 €.
Meals: 600 €
My favorite restaurants:
Poas: Food court Mercaditas in Fraijanes
Manuel Antonio (near La Palapa): La Langosta and also El Patio
Near Nauyaca Waterfall: Ricar2 el Avión
Between Manuel Antonio and Monte Verde: Soda D’Calle
Santa Elena: HG’s Food
Guadalupe (between Monte Verde and La Fortuna): Soda Río Piedras
Arenal Observatory Lodge restaurant
Arenal Oasis Ecolodge restaurant
Other expenses: 300 € (groceries for breakfast, drinks, ice cream, souvenirs, etc.)
Total overall: 6065 € (about 2020 € per person).
Now, here’s the day-by-day account of this beautiful trip.
In early March, full of carefree joy and happy to return to Morocco, we landed in Marrakech under the sun.
We spent just one night in Marrakech at the Hôtel Toulousain, as we did on our previous trip. And we booked our 3 nights for the end of our trip, the second half of March... Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! But we’re not there yet...
Our first goal is to reach Magdaz, a mountain village in the Tessaout Valley, sometimes called the lost valley.
We discovered the village of Magdaz on this forum, and we were charmed by the photos and comments from travelers who came before us.
The road is easy—it’s dry, and the tarmac takes us right to the village gates at over 2,000 meters above sea level.
We arrive in the afternoon and are left speechless by the beauty of the place. A jewel of Berber architecture! Perfectly restored granaries and kasbahs!
A young man from the village guides us on the visit and opens the doors to the terraces overlooking the village.
Several magnificent collective granaries have been beautifully restored. The warm colors of the stone capture the light wonderfully. It’s stunning!
We won’t find anything decent to stay overnight there, so we head back down a bit and settle in at the Assounfou guesthouse. Lovely welcome. The place is in excellent condition and very clean. It’s spacious, but we’re the only ones there.
First day full of promise!
Hi everyone,
We (two adults, 74 and 70 years old) had already shared a travel journal about our first trip to the Philippines in February/March 2019 on this forum (https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=9377175;search_string=carnet%20philippines). We had visited Manila, the Banaue rice terraces, Sagada, the Visayas (Bohol, Siquijor, Dumaguette), and on our way back to Luzon, the Taal volcano before returning to France. Delighted by this trip, organized by the French-speaking agency Alizé, we decided to further explore this beautiful country, this time focusing on Coron and Palawan.
Before writing this journal, I should mention that these are personal comments and don’t reflect any differing opinions. Without any literary or photographic talent, I’ll stick to the facts and share a few details about the visits, hotels, and restaurants.
Preparations
We decided to return in mid-January 2025 and consulted three French-speaking tour operators to create a trip based on our wishes (places to visit, type of accommodation) and budget. Comparing three operators helped us weigh their advice and make our choices. Only our first operator respected the budget, a second came close, and the third proposed a slightly more upscale trip. In the end, we chose the agency from our first trip. Our discussions helped refine our itinerary, and when we reviewed it point by point, the document provided was perfect, full of great tips. The most debated point was a 3-day, 2-night cruise between Coron and Palawan. We were tempted but worried about being the only "older" travelers among younger people and feared two uncomfortable nights. Reassured by our tour operator, we finally opted for this "exploration." We’ll come back to that later.
Once the choice was made and dates set, we booked our international flights with Cathay Pacific for 750 € per person, which offers the best schedules (short layovers) at an acceptable price for flights arriving in Cebu. Our trip started on February 25 and returned to Paris on March 15.
International flights
The round-trip flights went smoothly. Cathay does the job well, without frills. The service quality seems to have slightly declined compared to our previous trips with them. Hong Kong Airport is huge but very practical.
Note that not all airlines serve Cebu.
Recommendation: Fill out your Philippine entry form within 72 hours before your flight. This can prevent issues with the airline (possible boarding refusal) and saves a lot of time upon arrival (see the Philippine embassy website).
Domestic flights
For our two domestic flights—Cebu to Coron and Puerto Princesa to Cebu—our tour operator chose Philippine Airlines and their propeller planes. No problems there.
Day 1:
We landed around 12 PM (local time) after 17 hours of travel. A driver was waiting for us at the airport exit and took us to our hotel, intentionally chosen near the airport (Mandaue, about 10 minutes away) to help us recover and get a good night’s sleep before our early morning domestic flight the next day. The Mayoo Hotel, reasonably priced, was perfect for this. Large, beautiful room in a new building—clean, comfortable, with a spa. We could relax by the pool on the 16th floor and enjoy the city view. The breakfast was exceptional, and the staff was smiling, attentive, and helpful. An ATM in the lobby allowed for withdrawals. However, the hotel is in a neighborhood with nothing to see or do. We dined at the Korean restaurant K-GOGI across from the hotel—a real attraction and a great discovery.
Day 2:
After a restful night, we were driven to the airport around 6:30 AM for an 8:10 AM flight from Cebu to Busuanga (Coron).
The flight was uneventful. Upon arrival, we paid 200 pesos per person for the Coron tourist fee before a 40-minute transfer to our hotel: Natura Resort, located outside the city in a secluded spot. The setting is stunning—a beautifully maintained tropical garden, a pleasant pool, and the option to book massages. The cottages are tropical-style with thatched roofs, simple and unpretentious.
The owner, who speaks French, told us that given the heat and our ages, climbing the 721 steps to the top of Mount Tapyas wasn’t necessary. She gave us a few rooftop recommendations to watch the sunset over Coron Bay. After a good swim in the pool and a meal at the resort’s pleasant restaurant, we hired a tricycle to go into town. We were told it costs 150 pesos one way, and depending on the return time, it could exceed 250 pesos. But our driver gave us his WhatsApp number and charged the same price regardless of the time. He just earned two days’ worth of customers.
He dropped us off at the port where bangkas (local boats) gather for day trips. It was the end of the day, so there was a rush. A few shops around the port sold waterproof bags for marine excursions at reasonable prices (compared to back home), after some bargaining. We wandered the town’s alleys looking for the Top Hotel, whose rooftop is famous. Indeed, it’s perfectly located to admire the sunset and enjoy a refreshing drink.
We dined nearby at a small Chinese restaurant, then just had to call our driver to head back.
The night wasn’t entirely restful—our hotel had a soundtrack of all the countryside animals, and it seemed they had no set bedtime! :
We’re staying at Squirrel Nest Guest House in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise. Small, brightly colored houses, narrow alleys cluttered with fishing nets. On the doorsteps, women draw geometric patterns in the shape of rosettes with a thousand varied colors. These are *, religious symbols made with rice powder. They serve as both a daily offering to the gods and a way to attract prosperity to the home and family, while also delivering a message of welcome.
The afternoon is dedicated to our first visits. Mahabalipuram boasts exceptional architectural heritage—the richest, in my opinion, of everything we’ll discover on our South India trip.
The *, the seaside temple just a short distance from the ocean, showcases harmonious proportions with its two small towers facing the sea. Dating back to the 8th century, most of the sculptures decorating it are quite eroded by time and the marine elements. A quick tuk-tuk ride later, we visit the *, five small temples delicately carved from a single block of granite, each dedicated to a god and accompanied by a giant animal serving as the deity’s mount. I recognize *, the bull, vehicle of *, and admire the monumental sculpture of a life-sized elephant, the mount of the goddess *.
in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise
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.
A little sneak peek?
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
The karst site:
(In the heart of Albergheria, on a street every visitor walks down—lovely message from an unidentified artist)
Laundry and trucks washed in the same stream.
We’re greeted dozens of times with “Hello Mister”—a daily routine in the Moluccas. Every time we stop, we pose for photos to be saved on locals’ smartphones. They don’t see tourists often.
Several magnificent collective granaries have been beautifully restored. The warm colors of the stone capture the light wonderfully. It’s stunning!
