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Hi everyone!! My partner and I just got our very first motorhome!! It's second-hand and not exactly new (1987), but it runs well: it's a Trafic T1300 van with a Pilote R320 coachbuilt body (CE model: the one with 4 berths, a double bed up front on the dinette and 2 single bunk beds at the back). We're total beginners in this area (my partner knows a bit about car mechanics but not motorhomes) and we don't have a user manual. So, we're a bit lost—we don’t know what all the buttons on the control panel do. Can you help us???? We know what the bottom left one and the battery test do (except the one with the lightning bolt), but not the others.

What’s the red wire near the batteries for (it’s not connected)?? What exactly does the coupling/separator do (I’m a woman, lol)?? How do we operate the fridge—I think it’s original but not sure (Electrolux brand)?? What should we do when the motorhome is parked for the winter—any safety tips and tricks to prevent freezing, etc.?? Do we need to empty the water tanks, for example? I’m really new to this!! Other questions are pending, but we’ll see about those later. Thanks so much in advance for your help!!

PS: Where can we find cheap sites to buy accessories?? For example: screw cover seals, sealant, window frames, trimix fridge, chemical toilets... (aside from Leboncoin, of course!!)???

Hi, I need to buy about ten pairs of babouches. Do you know if there are any shops around Ouarzazate or Agdz where I could find them? Maybe even cheaper than in Marrakech?

Thanks.

Hi there, I was wondering if anyone is heading to Cuba soon and could bring me some over-the-counter Sildenafil (viagra) tablets—available at Varadero Airport, among other places.

I live in the Quebec City area. Thanks

Hi everyone,

I usually travel abroad in the summer, but given the circumstances, I think this year I’ll be staying in France. I’d love to know which places you’d recommend for the most stunning mountain landscapes and the best hikes.

Thanks in advance for your help!

😉

Let’s catch up with a new travel journal from July 2024—only 6 months late, no biggie!

We’ll be talking about this gorgeous island, its tail end, wildlife (old habits die hard), and the sheer joy of it all 🙂

Why bike (MTB) along the canal between the Two Seas: the lateral canal of the Garonne from Bordeaux to Toulouse, and the Midi Canal from Toulouse to the Mediterranean?

This canal was created to connect the Mediterranean to the Atlantic without going around Spain, and along its entire length, there’s an old towpath (used to pull barges). Since this path is closed to traffic (except for service vehicles from Voies Navigables de France), no cars drive on it—it’s dangerous, noisy, and polluting. The Canal between the Two Seas was built for transporting goods, so it passes through many towns you can explore without dealing with traffic. You can stock up on supplies or spend the night. You’ll discover the varied landscapes of the countryside, always in the serenity brought by the calm and slow flow of the canal’s water. Most of the time, you’ll be in the shade of trees planted to stabilize the banks with their roots. All you have to do is follow this blue—or rather green—ribbon without needing to consult a map. But the biggest advantage is that it’s flat! Of course, on the Canal du Midi, water flows from the watershed divide at Naurouze eastward to the Mediterranean and westward to Toulouse. On the lateral canal of the Garonne, water flows toward Bordeaux. But this slope is almost imperceptible, which is a huge plus when you want to travel by bike for several days with luggage.

When I say "bike," I really mean MTB because, while the towpath has been replaced in some places by a paved bike path, it mostly resembles a dirt trail—sometimes smooth, sometimes rocky, and often cluttered with roots from the magnificent trees lining it. Since the canal was classified as a UNESCO World Heritage site, improvements have been underway, but it won’t be tomorrow that you’ll be able to ride from Bordeaux to Sète on a road bike. And I’m afraid the first sections of the path will be worn out before the rest is finished. You might even run into construction work for this bike path. That’s what happened to me during the spring of 2007.

Sunday, 03/11 – Valence d'Agen 08:15 to Toulouse (Rangueil) 16:30 97 km in 8h15 (6h on the bike) I started on the recently paved path along the lateral canal of the Garonne. The first locks appeared, and as I approached Moissac, the path turned into a billiard table until Castelsarrasin. After the Cousteau port, I was back on the classic dirt towpath with its rocks, roots, and nutria holes. But not for long—soon, I hit ruts left by backhoes and bulldozers, which, fortunately, were resting for the Sunday. A pile of rubble taller than me blocked the entire width of the path. I didn’t want to turn back to find the previous bridge and ride on the other bank, which was just as impassable (dense grass). It wasn’t easy to carry a bike with full panniers, so I lifted it over several mounds. I kept going, sometimes on foot, unsure how far the construction extended. Another bulldozer—luckily, the ground was dry. The work went all the way to Montech, making the path impassable. I recommend taking the N113, which runs parallel (that’s what I did on the way back). In Montech, the famous water slope was at rest, waiting for tourists. For many kilometers, I was back on the traditional towpath. The closer I got to Toulouse, the better the surface became, and the more cyclists and pedestrians I saw—until the city center, where there was nonstop bike traffic, especially students heading to Rangueil.

Monday, 03/12 – Rangueil 09:10 to Revel 16:30 86 km in 7h20 (5h30 on the bike) As soon as you reach Toulouse, you make a 90° turn to follow the connection between the lateral canal and the Canal du Midi. Heading east, you pass the barge selling the famous Toulouse violet souvenirs. A real bike path has been built for 50 km to Port Lauragais. It’s a true joy for Toulousains and travelers. Restrooms have been installed or shared with highway rest areas, allowing you to refill water (of course, bikes are banned from ASF rest areas, but cleverly placed racks let you secure your bike and walk in). At Port Lauragais, it’s another rest area shared by highway users, cyclists, and boaters. You’ll find a cafeteria, restaurant, hotel, and a shop selling regional souvenirs. But the real pleasure is reaching the watershed divide at Naurouze, where water flows toward the Mediterranean on one side and the Atlantic on the other. There, I decided to leave the Canal du Midi, which continues toward Castelnaudary with a much rougher towpath, to follow the *Rigole* that feeds the canal with water from the Saint-Ferréol basin. For me, it was like returning to the source—a bit like a pilgrimage in honor of the brilliant Pierre-Paul Riquet, the designer of this magnificent work. I followed the service trail along the *Rigole*. It’s actually a variant of the GR 653, leading to Revel alongside this artificial waterway. It’s fed by water from the Montagne Noire, and I was worried about a steep climb. But that wasn’t the case—the *Rigole* winds for 40 km, flowing gently under the trees. It was better than a dream: a smooth dirt path with the crunch of pine needles under the wheels, where I only crossed paths with a few fishermen... And to soothe sore buns, the last kilometers were on packed earth—a paradise (ATVs, stay away!). More walkers and cyclists appeared there.

Tuesday, 03/13 After a restful night in Revel, I started the morning with a walk around Lake Saint-Ferréol. A very pleasant 10 km hike, but I don’t recommend it for mountain bikers unless you’re used to mountain terrain and have strong calves. Otherwise, you can take the road—there are at least two hotels near the lake. In the afternoon, I began the return trip to Tarn-et-Garonne via the same path, with the same pleasure.

Total: 378 km of suffering and bliss, for which I must thank the departmental and regional councils for their funding, Voies Navigables de France for maintenance, and the volunteers who mark the hiking trails. And don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit with your 378 km of bliss and the paradise of the *Rigole*?

Okay, fine—it wasn’t always idyllic. Sometimes the path was downright *pierrique*... but I had great weather, and the landscapes were so beautiful (water, sun, vegetation). In the rain or mud, it would’ve been less fun. What does *pierrique* even mean?

*Pierrique* is worse than rocky. I know a Pierrick, and he’s tough. And why *Facteur4*?

It’s France’s goal to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by a factor of 4 by 2050. I’m doing my part by biking to work 3 out of 4 times. And your cassoulet?

Guilty as charged. I ate the best cassoulet of my life at the Hôtel du Midi in Revel. But it was very productive in methane. My stomach hurt so much I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing my postcards between 3 and 4 AM. So many great memories!

Curious travelers all share the same wish: to discover a country or region by stepping off the beaten path and avoiding tourist traps. Who wouldn’t agree with that?

But does that mean we should skip the tourist sites that guidebooks and local tourism offices tout as must-sees? Of course not!

On the Greek island of Rhodes, Lindos, the "Pearl of the South," is undoubtedly the most visited village. Making the trip there is enough to understand its appeal—and I’ll admit, I too fell under the spell of this enchanting place. Through this post and these photos, I want to share my memories, impressions, and a lot of my enthusiasm.

First, there’s that stunning panoramic view you get from the road when arriving from the north of the island. The urge to stop is irresistible.



Perched on a rocky spur, an imposing citadel overlooks a village with that classic Greek charm—whitewashed houses. At the foot of the hill, you can see a perfectly curved bay (the arc is almost flawless) with deep blue waters bordering a lovely stretch of light sand...

With an artist’s eye, you could say this landscape is an ideal painting, and what a beautiful palette of colors! A photographer’s eye will be delighted by the balance of the composition, and any traveler who loves beautiful scenery will simply be captivated by this exceptional view.

This plunging viewpoint is a delicious preview of the site, making me eager to discover more and see Lindos in every detail.

The road winds along the mountainside for about two kilometers before reaching the destination—well, you quickly realize you can’t drive into the narrow alleys! No, you have to leave your car in the parking lots near the village. Spaces are already filling up with private cars and a neat line of tour buses—so we won’t be the only ones visiting Lindos this morning!

The main street, at the heart of the village, is a succession of cafés, tavernas serving ouzo/feta/moussaka, and souvenir shops (T-shirts, pottery, trinkets, flags...). At peak hours, it’s the usual tourist hustle and bustle—easy to imagine.

Fortunately, just a few steps down a side alley, and you quickly find calm and almost solitude.



Aren’t there any cats in Lindos? Not really—domestic felines are everywhere in the village’s alleys. Here are two: a black-and-white one resting on a windowsill and another, all white, heading toward a dead end. In that narrow lane sits an elderly man, his face weathered by the sun, with a salt-and-pepper mustache. Our eyes meet, and I greet him with a "Kalimera" (good morning in Greek, one of the few words I know in the local language!). That earns me a hint of a smile, followed by a question. He’s asking for a cigarette—sorry, my friend, but I don’t smoke!

Wandering, observing, even getting lost in these narrow alleys—that’s how to truly appreciate Lindos. Dazzling white walls, beautiful homes (some dating back to the 15th century), entrances framed by Gothic arches, and wreaths or bouquets of dried flowers adorning the facades. Here and there, muffled conversations can be heard through half-closed shutters, and an ajar door offers a glimpse of lovely inner courtyards where the reds and purples of bougainvillea contrast with the white walls. The locals also add beautiful decorative touches to the floors of patios or stair steps, with black-and-white pebble mosaics forming geometric patterns.

At times, the silence of the alleys away from the center is broken by the puttering of a scooter or hybrid vehicles—half-scooter, half-van—that barely squeeze between the walls of the narrow lanes!



After crisscrossing this real labyrinth, I arrive in front of the village’s main church, the Church of Panagia. A beautiful building dedicated to the Virgin, restored in the 15th century by the Knights of the Order of St. John.

Looking up to admire the bell tower of this Greek Orthodox church, I catch a glimpse among the clustered rooftops of part of the fortifications overlooking the town—the next step in my discovery of Lindos’ heritage.

To reach the citadel’s rock, you’re offered "Lindos taxis" at every corner—donkey rides. The effect is guaranteed for tourists discouraged by the 115 meters of elevation to climb to reach the ramparts: bursts of laughter, donkey hooves slipping on the cobblestones, and the capricious moods of these sometimes stubborn animals. Hee-haw!



You guessed it—I chose to walk up the path along the mountainside. The route reveals magnificent panoramas of the village and the coast, lined with pink oleanders, and you breathe in the fresh air among the olive trees—though sometimes the unmistakable smell of donkey droppings fills the air, with the sea breeze helping to disperse it.



Climbing the fortress steps is like traveling back in time. Here, the testimonies of Lindos’ rich history unfold before visitors’ eyes.

First, the imposing ramparts, built in the Middle Ages by the Knights of the Order of St. John—master builders of defensive structures whose primary mission was to aid and care for pilgrims wounded during the Crusades.

Within the fortifications, you’ll also find the remains of a Byzantine-era church from the 13th century, with its frescoes and murals. Further up, at the top of the rocks, you encounter ancient Greece: the acropolis and the temple dedicated to the goddess Athena. According to historians, the first inhabitants of the site were the Minoans, around 1200 BCE. An ambitious architectural restoration program aims to bring this past back to life.



But once you reach the ancient esplanade, most visitors head straight for the ramparts. The view through their openings is simply breathtaking and dizzying. On the sea side, the cliff drops steeply, and at the foot of the cliffs lies another bay, its shape reminiscent of a heart. Turquoise waters and a small white chapel surrounded by oleanders.

Seeing this panorama, you tell yourself you absolutely must visit it before leaving Lindos.



On the village side, the view is just as stunning—a true aerial perspective of the entire town and its charming white houses. You can easily spot the church with its red-tiled roof. Among the cluster of houses, some have flat rooftops—these belonged to the captains. Lindos was once an important commercial port, strategically located on the maritime route from Europe to the East. From their terraces, these famous ship captains could watch the comings and goings of their vessels.



Back then, Lindos was the capital of Rhodes and had nearly 17,000 inhabitants—far more than the 700 current residents. But these locals proudly claim Lindos is still the capital of Rhodes—well, a tourist capital, at least!

From the vantage point of these ramparts, you also overlook the tiny beach below. The sight of it can only make you want to take a dip—my next stop, a welcome break after the historical and cultural visit.

Walking back through the village via different alleys, I pass some beautiful homes and new chapels, like the one I’m in front of now—a white dome, a classic example of Greek island religious architecture. Dedicated to St. George, it dates back to the 14th century.

Time for some beach fun—that’s Lindos too! A chance to take a dip in crystal-clear, delicious waters with that unmistakable view of Lindos as your backdrop.



Now, heading toward St. Paul’s Bay—the one I spotted from the citadel. Seen from ground level, it’s even more charming, with its little white chapel nestled against the cliffs. The bay and the church are named after the Apostle Paul. History—or legend—tells of the religious figure stopping here during a journey between Ephesus and Syria.



These days, the chapel is a hit with newlyweds—celebrations seem to be back-to-back this afternoon. The idyllic setting is perfect for a beautiful keepsake photo, as any amateur photographer would agree!

As the hours pass, the flow of day-trippers thins out, and Lindos regains a sense of calm and authenticity that suits it so well. As if by magic, the fading light bathes the village in a golden hue—worth admiring without restraint.



Though Lindos is well sheltered from the sea, nestled in its protective cove, its entire past is oriented toward the open water. To etch this unique site even deeper into my memory, I want to see Lindos again from the sea.

The boat, "Captain Manolis," is ready. This morning, we’re at the pebble beach of Vlicha, just a short distance from the village.



The start of the voyage takes us along stark rocky cliffs—a mineral world animated by seabirds, which is classic, but also by goats, which is more unusual. These sure-footed caprins navigate the cliffside along the rock strata—no fear of heights here!

Then, your gaze is drawn to Lindos again, always Lindos—a viewpoint that’s also worth the detour: perched fortifications, white village, and a broad expanse of deep blue in the foreground.



A palette of blues enriched by the waters of the bay just south of the village. The play of light, the reflection of the sky, the transparency of the sea, combined with sandy seabeds, create a breathtaking result: an unreal, almost magical shade of blue. The deep blue!



Puff! Puff! Puff! The boat’s engine slows down. Our captain seems focused and attentive as we navigate through a narrow corridor of jagged rocks. These impressive cliffs have sparked sailors’ imaginations, and our captain points out the lion. A wild feline in the area? Not exactly, but a rock whose shape might suggest a lion’s head—why not, from a certain angle? Just as you start to see the resemblance, the image fades—a fleeting lion, like a mirage.



Twilight also offers visitors fleeting and magical sights. As the deep blue envelops the atmosphere, the lights enhance Lindos’ panorama.

And to add an original and aesthetic touch (as if it were needed!), the amateur photographer in me plays with my camera’s aperture to make the bay and village sparkle with dozens of stars. Isn’t Lindos called the "Pearl of the South"? A pearl that sometimes shines brilliantly!

LINDOS ISLAND OF RHODES (GREECE) May 2011

Tips: To avoid the crowds of tourists arriving (by boat and especially by bus or car!) for a day trip, it’s best to arrive before 9 AM. Also note: the visit to the Citadel/Ancient Ruins starts at 8:30 AM and closes at 3 PM. Ticket to access the site: 6 €. In the late afternoon, the lighting is beautiful over the village—a splendid viewpoint from the road leading to St. Paul’s Bay. Boat excursion with "Captain Manolis": daily departures (May to September) from Vlicha Beach (a bay 3 km north of Lindos), 25 €.

Hello forum,

Did any of you feel the same things we did in China?

We spent a good twenty days there in August. First, we traveled solo around Chengdu, then joined an organized tour for 12 days (Beijing, Pingyao, Xi'an, Guilin, Xingping, Yangshuo, Shanghai, Wuzhen) and extended our stay by 4 extra days to visit Zhangjiajie.

The landscapes were stunning, and we have unforgettable memories... but we were really disappointed by the following points:

- The food: way too spicy. Lacking in flavor, not much taste. I’m speaking "in general" because we did enjoy some good steamed dumplings, smoked pork, and other dumplings... But compared to Thailand, Cambodia, or India, Chinese cuisine didn’t impress us at all.

- The behavior of the Chinese: disrespectful, rushed, agitated. You constantly have to fight—people push, crowd, and overwhelm you... At the entrance to the Terracotta Army (and other sites), it’s a human tidal wave... and I mean that literally. We were carried by the crowd without even touching the ground. It was like a situation where you have one bowl of rice and 20,000 starving people diving for it...

You’re at a ticket counter, and they cut in front of you. You’re in line for boarding, suitcase ready to go on the conveyor belt, and someone shows up out of nowhere to put THEIR suitcase down... even though they have a flight ticket with THEIR seat number and won’t be leaving before you!!!! You’re getting on the bus, and someone shoves past you just so they don’t end up behind you.

It’s like these people only think about themselves. I didn’t see a single person let someone else go first or even ask—it’s as if politeness and respect are completely foreign to them.

It’s honestly exhausting and draining...

- Communication: In every other country we’ve visited, whether in Asia or Europe, we always manage—with English, a few words of Italian, French, or Spanish. In China, I’ll be blunt: if you don’t speak Chinese, you’re screwed. And yet, a pair of kids around ten or twelve years old asked us in English where we were from :)

- Understanding: Here’s the rule. Even if the person you’re talking to speaks a little English and says they understand you... make sure they *really* do, because 9 times out of 10, they don’t. Out of pride or just cluelessness, they’ll give you a big smile and nod, but in reality, they didn’t get what you were saying.

Several times with our group, in the evening at a restaurant, if we hadn’t been helped by someone at another table who spoke a little English, we’d still be there. The classic example: the waiter brings one menu (for 10 people at the table), and we’re all trying to explain that we need 4 or more menus. Five minutes later, he’s still staring at us with that same blank smile...

In 3* or 4* hotels, you go to the front desk for a hot water or AC issue. Three or four staff members just stand there beaming at you. You try to explain with photos or a translator, but in the end, you leave with the problem unresolved.

They don’t speak—they shout... on buses, in hotels...

We were also surprised to find that self-service laundromats were almost nonexistent. We got scammed once at a hotel with an astronomical bill!

As for flights, we flew Air China on the way there and Austrian Airlines on the way back—no comparison. Air China had zero service and food that was "baby food" quality. Austrian Airlines had multiple services, a decent meal, and smiling flight attendants.

I don’t know if any of you had the same experience in this country, but I’m definitely not eager to go back. Whereas if someone offered me India, Thailand, or Vietnam tomorrow, I’d be there in a heartbeat!!!

As soon as I return to France, I catch myself thinking, "it’s better elsewhere." Wherever we’ve been, I feel this lightness of living—less restriction, less pressure, less sadness—and I start dreaming of somewhere else, of living somewhere else, a simpler life, more authentic, with colors everywhere: markets, clothes, homes...!!! Meeting kindred spirits, genuine people, gentle and kind, and letting go of all this modernism, this technological rat race, the indifference toward others, the confinement, the racism against the elderly in France, against the poor, the weak, the beautiful... fleeing the news, politics, jealousy, meanness, stupidity, greed... And in my moments of clarity, I tell myself that every country, every city has its pros and cons, and that maybe the best of all worlds isn’t down here. But I also remind myself that you have to know how to COME BACK in order to LEAVE again... yet still...!!! IS IT REALLY BETTER ELSEWHERE?😏😏😏

Second trip to Morocco, with our kids and our grandson. A trip for five that delighted us all.

First stop: Marrakech, where we landed in late morning under a blazing sun. We had lunch on Avenue Mohamed V and took a little rest before heading to Djema El F'Na Square in the late afternoon, when the temperature dropped slightly. A quick stroll through the medina and the souks, still as lively as ever. Mountains of goods, craftsmanship that amazes us, a palette of colors, and all sorts of scents...









Then, when night fell, we wandered around the square among the little stalls serving all kinds of dishes: salads, grilled meats, soups, snails... It's incredible. Everyone is super friendly. I suspect they tell the same jokes every night to the tourists passing by. But it's really fun. And surprise, surprise—here, it's already Christmas. Colorful garlands at every stall.









But, rightly or wrongly, even though we're charmed, we prefer not to dine on the square... We're afraid of ruining the rest of the vacation... But what an extraordinary atmosphere on that square. It's overwhelming!

The next morning, we left Marrakech, hoping to find milder temperatures outside the city. On the way to Tichka. The change of scenery is huge. Our grandson can't get over seeing all the vendors selling real or fake minerals, real or fake fossils, merchants who approach as soon as we stop to admire a site or take a photo. There are also apple sellers—real apples for a picnic, which is perfect.





Photo stops are frequent. At every turn, a new discovery, a new viewpoint. The villages blend into the mountains. It's stunning.

Hi everyone!

I’m especially asking those of you who’ve been to South Korea and Taiwan. Which would you pick for a three-week trip in September or October? I need to consider budget, variety of places, and the weather.

Thanks! 🙂

Here we go...

It’s been almost a month since we got back, and my head is still over there... Just like every time... For my own sake, I know travel journals are useful for travelers planning a trip to a country. But selfishly, they’re also helpful for me—to put the final stone on each journey and revisit it from time to time, just for the memories...

So, this trip won’t be any different, and I invite you to follow along on our Andean adventure, from Lima to the Southern Lipez, from December 16, 2016, to January 14, 2017. It’s a chronological journal because I don’t know how to approach it any other way. It doesn’t hold any absolute truths—just my experiences and feelings, which are obviously personal and not objective!

But if it inspires you to visit these magical countries (and I assume you’re already interested if you’re here) or gives you a couple of tips, then I’ll consider it a win!

So, let’s hit the road for the land of wide-open spaces!

Does visiting Albania (combined with Greece) require renting a 4x4? If you have any tips on beautiful routes, we’d love to hear them.

Thanks in advance.

Hi there, I live in Quebec and I’m planning a trip to Italy. We’re thinking of visiting Rome, Florence, Venice, and Tuscany. Here are a few questions I haven’t been able to find clear answers to online. If anyone can help, I’d really appreciate it—thanks in advance!

- There are different City Passes for Rome. I’ve found the differences between them, but whenever I try to simulate a purchase, I’m always redirected to another site like Tiquet. Is there an official Tourism Office website for these?

- Is it easy to get around Tuscany by public transport, especially in the Chianti region?

- For guided tours (or not), which company do you prefer? Get Your Guide? Viator?

Looking forward to your recommendations—thanks again!

Hi there,

This question has probably already been asked on this forum. What would be the best way for me to learn how to sail a boat? I’m 45, have no experience in the matter, but I’ve got plenty of time available and I live in Marseille. I’ve tried courses at different schools here, but they’re all focused on competition—it’s not my thing at all. I’d like to learn so I can eventually think about traveling by sailboat. Thanks for your insights!

hi,

sorry for the accents, I’m in Dubai right now. I just got back from India after a short 10-day trip to the Golden Triangle (Delhi-Jaipur-Agra).

I noticed a lot of hippie-style Anglo-Saxon tourism. Sure, there’s the change of scenery, the temples, the Taj Mahal, and the low cost of living, but personally, all I saw was: misery, filth, chaotic traffic, non-stop honking, diarrhea despite eating at restaurants recommended in the *Routard* and *Lonely Planet* guides, noise, lots of homeless people, delayed trains with uncomfortable first-class carriages, pushy vendors, rickshaw drivers, and beggars, humid heat, dust, nothing worth bringing back, no sidewalks so you’re constantly on edge, questionable hygiene in hotels and restaurants, and locals who treat visitors like cash cows.

So my question: What do people really love about India for those who go multiple times, especially on the same circuit?

Personally, I think it’s just the fact that you can spend without worrying about your budget, and that’s what attracts the French during this period of low purchasing power.

Inside South Africa

The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.

* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.

* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *

You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa

What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *

Meeting in the township.



Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...

Hi there,

A group of 11 of us will be spending a week in Marrakech in May. I’d love your thoughts and advice on these excursions I’ve shortlisted—or any others I might not have considered:

- Visiting Marrakech: with or without a guide? Is one day enough for the main sights? - Essaouira: Is a day trip a good option? Is the journey scenic? - Ouzoud Waterfalls: Is the place worth the trip? - Agafay Desert: Any recommendations to avoid the tourist crowds? - Imlil Valley and Mount Toubkal: A worthwhile detour?

Of course, I don’t plan to do everything in one week, but your input will help me decide... Thanks in advance! !

Hi everyone,

I’m trying to figure out how to get from Paris to Marseille or Montpellier with non-disassembled bikes by train in early July 2025... and it’s a total flop!!! Can’t find any trains that offer the bike-on-board option! It’s so complicated between SNCF-CONNECT, OUIGO, and TER INTERCITÉS!!! Nothing’s simple! I want to take my teens and their cousins on a bike trip to the Camargue, but I’ll have to start planning way ahead to sort out bike transport!!! So glad I found VoyageForum for tips! !

Hi,

I’m looking for any info or experiences (good or bad) about this agency.

Thanks

Hi there,

I’m heading to Blau Costa Verde next February and I’d like to rent a scooter to explore the area. Are the roads around Holguín in good condition? I’m thinking of renting one for 1–2 or 3 days to visit Holguín, Gibara, and Banes on my own. Do you recommend it (I’ve got a great sense of direction)? How much does it usually cost to rent a scooter for 2 or 3 days (or a car, though I’d prefer a scooter)? Also, are there any other interesting spots nearby you’d suggest checking out?

Are there any excursions to Santiago, and how much do they typically cost?

Thanks! :)

Hi everyone, I just got back from a trip to Northern India with my family. Given the time it took to organize, I thought future travelers might find this useful.

Context: First time in India. Dates: August 5 to August 23. 2 adults + 2 boys (17 and 11 years old). Itinerary: Delhi - Shekawati (Bagar, Mandawa) - Bikaner - Thar Desert (Kaku) - Jaisalmer - Jodhpur - Udaipur - Bundi - Jaipur - Agra - Delhi. High-end hotels, travel in a Toyota Innova (like a Renault Espace) with a driver. Agency: Atithi Travels, contact: Rajeev, Driver: William. Budget: 3112 € for flights (Air India chartered by Air France and booked through Go Voyages), 1080 US$ per person for hotels with breakfast, car with driver, full-board night in the desert, camel ride, boat on the lake in Udaipur, farewell dinner, 1000 € for on-site expenses (drinks and meals—1 per day / various tips including driver (150 rupees per day) / monuments and outings / personal shopping and gifts (including 2 carpets 1x2m, 1 bedspread, a pair of curtains, 10 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 2 tablecloths, 5 scarves, 1 small piece of jewelry, and various trinkets...). In short, about 1900 € per person all-inclusive for 17 nights.

Review of Atithi Travels: Very professional and accommodating. They responded quickly to my many prep emails, accepted all my hotel choices—even those they weren’t used to working with (I picked them beforehand using TripAdvisor, VoyageForum, the *Routard* guide, and Ulysses’ Rajasthan guide). They were the only agency out of the nine I consulted that accepted all my choices. Their pricing was reasonable, in the first quartile of the agencies I contacted. They allowed payment in three installments (1/3 at booking by bank transfer, 1/3 upon arrival in India, 1/3 in Udaipur). They checked in throughout the trip to ensure everything was going well with the driver and local reps. They offered a great solution for the night in the desert. My direct contact (Rajeev) personally picked us up at Delhi airport on the evening of the 5th (a Sunday). If I had to do it again, I’d go with Atithi again without hesitation—just negotiate the prices a bit.

Review of the Driver (William): He drove very cautiously (which is super important in this country). He kept his distance from his "guests," which worked perfectly for us. No hard sell to take us to shops or restaurants. Just so you know, the driver gets 150 rupees per day for lodging and meals. When he stops at a tourist restaurant, especially on the road, he eats for free (for you, if you eat there, it’s 2–3 times more expensive than elsewhere). Some shops, especially in Jaipur, give him commissions. Overall, we had an unspoken agreement. The driver would stop halfway through the journey at a tourist restaurant so we could use clean toilets, grab a Coke, and he could eat and rest (after 2.5 hours on the road in India, it’s well-deserved and necessary). After 30 minutes, we’d hit the road again. For shops, he didn’t pressure us, and we were very clear about stopping only at places we’d chosen (via Lonely Planet, for example). Overall, we were happy with his service.

Review of the Stops: Generally speaking, in very touristy places, you’re constantly approached by touts and vendors. As soon as you move away from those spots, Indians are welcoming, friendly, and happy to chat with foreigners. Between each stop, it’s 4–6 hours because the roads are tough—average speed is 50 km/h. Keep this in mind when planning your route. We chose to stay 2 nights in most places to avoid spending all our time in the car. Delhi: Worth seeing, but rough for a first impression—loud in some areas, aggressive, but we don’t regret it. For our first taste of Indian cuisine, we dined at United Coffee House on Connaught Place, a restaurant for the Indian middle class. It was delicious, really nice, and reassured us that we’d enjoy the food. Shekawati: Amazing, off the beaten path, not very touristy, and the people are friendly. Note: Bagar, which we picked after reading an article in *Ulysses*. It’s off the usual routes. Result: we were the only tourists in this small town and had a fantastic evening. Mandawa (just an hour from Bagar) is on all the Shekhawati circuits, so it’s more touristy. But still nice because of the colorful Havelis (go see them alone, without clingy guides trying to charge you extra for every visit without giving all the details—only the rupees matter to them). Note: there’s a great, affordable cobbler on the main street of Mandawa (Main Bazaar), just before Sonathia Gate on the right. Beautiful handmade slippers for 300 rupees. By the end of the trip, I regretted not buying more pairs—the leather is so soft and comfortable. I haven’t seen any as nice since. Bikaner: Good, a necessary stop before crossing the desert if you’re heading to Jaisalmer (recommended). It lets you see the Karni Mata Temple (Temple of the Rats), a camel farm, a first Jain temple, a quiet spice bazaar (take a rickshaw for a morning), and the well-maintained fort. Kaku (night in the Thar Desert): A highlight, absolutely must-do. Nothing like what you’ll find in Jaisalmer. Simple, remote, and wild—no tourist buses, just you and the few Indians taking care of you. Watching the sunset, the starry sky, shooting stars, and sleeping under the stars is unforgettable. It’s neither too cold nor too hot. The toilet facilities are basic but hygienic. It’s fantastic, and the whole family loved it. Jaisalmer: Very exotic, at the edge of Rajasthan, right out of the Thar Desert. A magical little town. Watch the sunset near the cenotaphs, visit Gadi Sagar for a picturesque stop with a temple by the lake, lots of Indians feeding huge catfish, and pedal boats for rent. Nearby, the best lassi of the trip at "Mohan Juice Center." Don’t miss the three Havelis—take the back streets if you want to avoid the touristy areas. As for the classic camel ride at sunset, know that the dune spots are beautiful, but at the same spot, at the same time, hundreds (no exaggeration) of tourists arrive by the busload, each on their own camel (hundreds of them), with vendors selling drinks, trinkets, and impromptu shows. It kills the dream. Jodhpur: The Mehrangarh Fort is EXCEPTIONAL, very well maintained, with a great audio guide in French. The most beautiful fort/palace visit of the whole trip. The restaurant inside is excellent. Spend a morning there, and don’t forget to visit the temple at the end of the ramparts for a top-notch view of the Blue City. Around the Clock Tower, you can try delicious, fresh lassis at Shri Mishrilal Hotel, mostly frequented by locals, and grab a tasty masala omelet on the go at Vicky’s Omelette Shop—he’s always smiling and collects notebooks full of messages from his customers. We found beautiful cashmere scarves at Handloom House, a fixed-price shop with good prices. Ranakpur: Another highlight. An exceptional Jain temple in the middle of nature. We chatted with the high priest, ate in the refectory at 5 PM (meals at 5, 5:30, and 6 PM) with locals (super good, all-you-can-eat for 20 rupees per person). Our only regret: not staying overnight. For just 50 rupees more, you can sleep in simple but clean cells and attend the evening ceremony, see the temple at sunset (otherwise, it closes at 5 PM), and be alone in the middle of nowhere. It’s also a lush place full of non-aggressive monkeys that take what you give them from your hand. Don’t miss it under any circumstances. Udaipur: Unique and charming, our first glimpse of Ghats on this trip with Indians bathing in the morning and doing laundry. The lake is enchanting, and the Hindu temple is special. Dinner at Jagat Niwas Palace Hotel (where we were staying) with a stunning view of the lake. Very good food, reasonable prices, and an exceptional setting. Bundi: First regret. A charming little town off the tourist trail, but dull after Shekawati. Not much to see. Jaipur: Second regret. VERY aggressive, overcrowded, with glaring poverty in the streets, persistent beggars, relentless vendors, deafening traffic, and endless traffic jams. The Hawa Mahal is on a polluted main road, and the Amber Fort is a tourist trap. It’s poorly maintained, and the elephant ride is the ultimate tourist attraction: hundreds of tourists on elephants in a line, 550 rupees for 2 people for a 10-minute ride, with vendors shouting the whole way while the elephant handler reminds you 10 times to tip him. Tourism at its worst. Don’t go unless you’re with young kids who’ll remember riding an elephant forever. Even then, it’s possible in other cities like Udaipur. Don’t believe your driver if he says not to shop before Jaipur because that’s where the best selection and prices are. It’s false. There’s no more selection (except for jewelry), prices aren’t lower, and the quality isn’t better. It’s just a big city with lots of shops that pay commissions to touts. Still, there’s a beautiful textile shop that doesn’t look like much but has fixed prices, is affordable, and offers superb quality: SOMA (http://www.somashop.com/). The local middle and upper classes shop there for home textiles (tablecloths, bedspreads, sheets, curtains) and clothes. This shop is even mentioned by *Forbes* as one of the "World's Top Shops" (http://www.forbes.com/..._sb_1215feat_ls.html). The one positive in Jaipur: Raj Mandir, a historic, stunning cinema. You can go with your eyes closed—guaranteed atmosphere with Indians cheering, laughing, and taking sides for the characters. Even without speaking the language, we understood everything and had a great family moment. Plus, there’s an intermission to grab a snack. It’s fantastic. The theater is often full, but you can reserve. Nearby, the Galta Temple is picturesque with hundreds of monkeys and kids bathing in the pools. Fun, especially in the late afternoon. If we had to do it again, we’d skip Jaipur—too noisy, too aggressive. Agra: Just before Agra, stop at Fatehpur Sikri. The visit takes about 3 hours. It’s beautiful. I regret not staying overnight to admire Akbar the Great’s city at sunset. In Agra, the Taj Mahal is king. Our best photos were taken from the Yamuna River. From there, the Taj is stunning (its back = its front), and you can stay as long as you want (it’s free). The next day, we visited at 6 AM and stayed for 4 hours—it was peaceful and gorgeous.

Overall, we would’ve liked one more night in Ranakpur, one more in Udaipur, one in Fatehpur Sikri, and just one in Jaipur to see the Hawa Mahal and go to the Raj Mandir.

Review of the Hotels

Delhi / Amaraya Haveli: Clean and nice, run by two French people in a quiet neighborhood of New Delhi. Comfortable rooms, good breakfast, clean, a bit pricey. Satisfaction rating: 3 out of 5

Bagar / Piramal Haveli: A charming stop, a Haveli from the early 20th century, with very large rooms, warm and attentive service, and a GREAT dinner. All for a modest price since it’s off the tourist trail. Highly recommend. Satisfaction rating: 5 out of 5

Mandawa / Desert Resort: Outside the city, at the edge of the desert. Rooms are in "traditional" huts with all the comforts. There’s a pool, and it’s very quiet. Breakfast is mediocre. Avoid dinner—it’s a rip-off (three times more expensive than elsewhere and not good). Satisfaction rating: 4 out of 5

Bikaner / Lallgarh Palace: Former maharaja’s palace, well maintained, gorgeous rooms with marble everywhere, a large art-deco indoor pool, good restaurant, very classy. Worth the price. Satisfaction rating: 5 out of 5

Jaisalmer / Gorbandh Palace: Large modern hotel mimicking local architecture. Big pool, but the rooms are poor—noisy and small. Mediocre breakfast. Satisfaction rating: 2 out of 5

Jodhpur / Ajit Bhawan: Former residence, very classy, Hollywood-style pool with waterfalls and fountains, comfortable rooms tastefully decorated. Great breakfast. Satisfaction rating: 5 out of 5

Udaipur / Jagat Niwas Palace: By the lake, very charming, good food, restaurant with an exceptional view, very romantic, but the room amenities are mediocre. Satisfaction rating: 5 out of 5

Bundi / Braj Bhushanjee: The best hotel in Bundi, in a beautifully decorated old Haveli. The rooms are mediocre and very noisy. Breakfast is average, but the welcome is warm. Satisfaction rating: 2 out of 5

Jaipur / Samode Haveli: Exceptional, very comfortable, gorgeous pool, spacious rooms, attentive and non-pushy service, free Wi-Fi, beautiful restaurant, great breakfast. Satisfaction rating: 5 out of 5

Agra / Howard Park Plaza: A mid-range chain hotel with a small pool. Comfortable enough, limited service, terrible breakfast. Satisfaction rating: 1 out of 5

If this feedback was helpful, feel free to leave me a message.

Thierry

Hello,

I came across a series of photos I took at the Moussem of Moulay Abdallah Amghar four years ago. This moussem takes place about ten kilometers south of El Jadida, by the sea. Little known, if not unknown, to foreigners, it’s actually one of the most important popular cultural events in Morocco. Like the old great Breton pardons, it blends religion and secular celebrations. It’s said to draw over 200,000 participants/pilgrims and nearly 10,000 horsemen. It happens in the summer, usually in August.

First, a moussem is a religious festival in honor of the local saint—in this case, Moulay Abdallah. The heart of the village is occupied by the saint’s tomb, topped by the mosque’s minaret. Two additional tombs belong to two of the saint’s wives.

Hi there, Here’s our plan: traveling to CHIANG MAI from BANGKOK, passing through AYUTTHAYA and SUKHOTHAI, all by tandem bike with a trailer and a child. What do you think of this route (distance, scenery, elevation, challenges, etc.)? Any great tips for lodging or other advice are welcome. Thanks in advance.

Hi everyone, I’m Pierre, I’m 19, and I’m looking for a baker position in Canada—could you help me out, please? I’m really passionate about this trade. I’ve been in it for 3 years now, including 1 year as a qualified worker. I’ve got a huge thirst for knowledge, whether it’s in my job or discovering the world. If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate—I’m not really sure how this works here! :)

Hi there,

We’d like to travel overland from Turkey to India in our converted van, but there are very few options these days. Crossing Iran seems risky and not particularly safe. Has anyone here done it? If so, which route did you take to minimize safety concerns?

Thanks for your replies, Julie 😎

I’ve been busy—here’s another travel journal on Rajasthan, with some new discoveries as always.

Thursday, January 25: I left home at 4:30 AM and headed to Barcelona airport. The roads weren’t blocked by farmers yet, so I made the trip without any issues. I arrived at the airport at 7:10 AM, called Parkvia, and someone picked up my car 15 minutes later. All that was left was to check in my luggage. My Etihad flight was at 10:25 AM, which gave me time for breakfast. We landed in Abu Dhabi at 7:30 PM. The flight to Delhi was at 10:15 PM, the transfer went smoothly without any stress, and we arrived in Delhi at 3:00 AM. I couldn’t waste any time upon arrival because I had a flight to Jodhpur at 6:55 AM. I got to customs, and what a nice surprise—the hall was empty. I went through immediately, had my passport and visa checked, and everything was fine. I grabbed my bag quickly and looked for the transfer to T2, which is outside. You have to walk along the taxi parking lot and take the long corridors—it’s well signposted, and the transfer took 10 minutes. At first, I was a little stressed, not knowing how long customs would take, but in the end, I was early for my 6:55 AM flight. I’m even glad I booked this one, as it got me to Jodhpur at 8:20 AM.

When I arrived, I took an auto-rickshaw to Jodhpur Palace GH, which I’d booked on Booking. The welcome was nice, and I was given a room right away. I was hoping to rest a bit, but unfortunately, it was very noisy. I settled in, took a shower, and was ready to go out and explore the city. The owner stopped me as I was leaving and told me I had to change rooms—I had to repack my bag before heading out. He showed me the way to the clock tower, which is about a 15-minute walk away.

A market lines the street leading to the tower, and the traffic is intense.



I set off in search of the stepwells and Gulab Sagar, a large basin with three water jets and a great view of Mehrangarh Fort. And yes, more baoris!



Toorji Ka Jhalra Bawdi isn’t far away. It’s a meet-up spot for tourists, with restaurants and terraces lining the area. The place is nice.





I looked for Mahila Bagh Ka Jhalra, went around in circles a bit, and finally found it right across from Gulab Sagar, where I’d already been. It’s not in good condition—it’s a shame it hasn’t been restored.



I went back through the clock tower area, found a currency exchange with a good rate, and booked my train tickets for the whole trip. The street was lively, with heavy traffic.





I was tired and headed back to the guesthouse. When I got there, I realized my phone wasn’t showing the right time, which gave me a chance to rest before going out for dinner. The Indigo restaurant is nearby and will be perfect.

Good evening everyone, I hope you're all doing well despite this very unusual time… Here’s a new travel journal to get you back on the Kenyan trails.

It was a really great idea to buy those flight tickets to Nairobi back in December. When Benoit suggested this new safari in February, I hesitated a little (very little): it was the season with particularly high temperatures, and the short rainy season in November/December had been very heavy, raising concerns about the state of the tracks… Given the current situation, no regrets, of course… We quickly organized the safari with our usual guide, and we booked the accommodations ourselves directly. (If we’d waited just a few more weeks, we might’ve regretted it…)

For once, we were able to leave from the airport near where we live (Lorient - Lann Bihoué), which is really convenient: no driving, no parking… We left home at 2 PM on Tuesday, February 18th, and arrived in Nairobi at 6 AM the next morning—perfect. (With a layover in CDG, of course 😉) Upon arrival, after a forehead temperature check by airport staff, we got our visas very quickly (forms filled out before departure). The customs agents congratulated us on our passports full of Kenyan stamps… but we still had to pay the 40 € for the visa.

All that was left was to collect our luggage, and we’d be ready to leave the airport shortly after landing. But there was a small issue: the baggage conveyor belt was broken… Eventually, the suitcases and bags were brought out by hand… Hakuna Matata, as they say here—no problem, as long as they’re all there. Benoit sent a message to Félix, our guide, to come meet us in the airport parking lot. After catching up with our respective families, we set off toward the Mombasa road, heading to Voi.

Traffic in Nairobi is still as heavy as ever, and the pollution is very noticeable (cars, but also cement factories…). The current lockdown has changed things. On social media, Mount Kenya and Kilimanjaro seem visible from Nairobi now!…

The first stop on this safari was a place we hadn’t visited before: the LUMO Community Wildlife Conservancy lumoconservancy.com/. It’s a small reserve located west of Tsavo West and near the Taita Hills. The reserve is managed by the local community, and entry fees are lower than in Tsavo’s national parks. We had initially planned to spend three days in Tsavo East, but since the accommodation wasn’t available for that long, we ended up choosing this option, which turned out to be a great discovery. Since the reserve is small, I think it’s hard to spend more than two days there. The advantage is that, since it’s not a national park, activities like walks or night safaris can be offered.

Alright, here are a few images to set the mood.







Elephants, but also hartebeests and lots of giraffes in a light we really liked.

Hello everyone! This trip dates back to late 2021, but since Voyage Forum reopened for writing, I haven’t seen many travel journals about Tanzania, so I decided to repost this one, which I originally shared on another well-known travelers’ site—even though I prefer Voyage Forum’s user experience. It’s also a chance for me to relive this exhilarating trip... So, if you’re up for it, let me take you on a classic adventure: Tarangire - Ngorongoro - Serengeti, plus a little bonus—the small Arusha Park. First off, yes, as the title of this journal suggests, we were lucky enough to spot *tons* of lions. The power they exude is incredible, even if most of the time they just look like big cats napping or strolling around. But lock eyes with one, and you’ll be glad you’re in the jeep.

But let’s not forget the rest of the wildlife—and the landscapes, which are absolutely stunning, with those iconic tree silhouettes.







I remember before leaving, I was a little worried I wouldn’t feel that same sense of wonder I’d experienced two years earlier in Botswana (see my travel journal). That fear was unfounded—the magic worked its charm once again! Note: Since we had limited time, we focused our trip entirely on safari, so this journal is 100% animals and landscapes—and 0% Maasai. Next post: TARANGIRE

(October 2018).

This account of a short stay in Kenya was originally meant for our friends and family, but to pass the time—for both us and you—and to add some content to the increasingly quiet columns of Voyage Forum during these weeks of confinement, when travelers can only journey in their minds, we decided to share the 25 pages of my ramblings, illustrated with Yolande’s photos, from an extraordinary stay in the Maasai Mara National Reserve. We waited until the two previous discussions on this same topic, filled with stunning photos and started by Régis and then Claire—sometimes in agreement, sometimes differing but always full of insights—had quieted down a bit before jumping in. Well, we’ll give it a try.

Let’s clarify: one of us claims to be a beginner photographer, and the other is just an unrepentant dreamer and modest writer. We often pursued our passions separately—Yolande with her mentor and me with an incomparable tracker—so sometimes the photos don’t quite match the text, or vice versa.

We hope you enjoy reading this lengthy post, which is longer than usual in VF’s sections (except, of course, for Mr. Voyajou). A thousand apologies for straying off the beaten path.

Alright, here we go!