My two bullfighting traditions when I'm back home in Camargue (France) and in Colombia (Caribbean) every time I return. 🤠
Details:
Bullfights (corridas) aren’t part of my two bullfighting traditions, but I respect those who attend them!!!
In these two ancestral bullfighting traditions—which aren’t bullfights—the Bulls and Toros aren’t killed or tortured, as some might think.
These are bull games where the animals return to their pastures afterward and only come back to the Arenas 2–3 times a year at most.
They spend 15 minutes in the ring for the Camarguais and 5 minutes for the Toros in the Colombian Corralejas.
They’re cared for and pampered. They’ll die of old age in miles of open fields.
The young people who face them are professionals, risking their lives to support their families and live their Passion for the Toro!!! 😄
https://youtu.be/yYKQer42HoQ
Colombian Corraleja in the link below (hope it works) 🤪
https://fb.watch/BMfmuCgQpG/
Hi everyone,
The first Camargue races in France, where men dressed in white—called "raséteurs" because they "shave" the bulls by making an arc—date back to around the 1400s.
That’s to say, it’s an ancestral local tradition that still brings together an entire community called "Bouvine" across 5-6 departments in the south of France, in a little over a hundred arenas, from the smallest to the largest.
Seven bulls make up a race.
Around ten raséteurs will face these beasts, raised exclusively in vast open spaces for the Camargue races.
These bulls, locally called "Biou" to distinguish them from the Spanish fighting bulls used in bullfights, are "bistournés" at a fairly young age (bistournage involves pinching the testicular vessels) to make them less heavy—they lose the muscle mass you see on the upper neck in other breeds.
Lighter, more agile, and thus better suited to the specific "work" of the CC (abbreviation for Camargue race).
Each bull wears attributes: a small piece of red fabric on the forehead called a "cocarde," a white wool pompom called a "gland" at the base of each horn, and beneath these glands, a string with a regulated number of turns depending on the competition level the biou is participating in.
The raséteurs, all affiliated with the Fédération Française de la Course Camarguaise (FFCC), are equipped with a hook (a sort of iron comb). The goal is to remove the attribute(s), with the prize money increasing as the bull’s 15-minute turn progresses.
The meaner, trickier, or more difficult the bull is for the men, the higher the prize money climbs—sometimes reaching 1000 to 2000 euros depending on the category of the raséteurs and bulls.
G1 (Group 1) are the pros, G2 (Group 2) are the former pros (to put it simply), G3 (Group 3) is the future (the youngest, just out of G4, which are league races). In other words, the first bulls with bare horns for these youngsters coming from taurine schools where the bious have their horn tips protected by a lead cap to minimize accidents that can happen to these young raséteurs in G5, who are around 15-17 years old.
Around 900 Camargue races take place every year, from early March to late November.
That’s to say, there’s at least one every day according to the federal calendar prepared in advance with organizers, local taurine clubs, etc....
https://www.ffcc.info/
Really interesting topic, well explained.
I didn’t know there were several types of bullfighting.
For me, I was familiar with bullfights, the *courses landaises* (bull-running in Landes), and *courses camarguaises* (Camargue bull-running), but I didn’t realize all of that was called *tauromachies*.
Very interesting topic, well explained.
I didn’t know there were several types of bullfighting.
For me, I knew about bullfights, the Landes cow races, and the Camargue races, but I didn’t realize all of that was called *tauromachies*.
Glad you find this tradition interesting!
Yep, everything involving human-bull confrontations is part of *tauromachies*—and there are plenty of other variations around the world, too.
Personally, I don’t go to bullfights because the death of the *toro* is unbearable for me, even when it’s done well. Still, it’s more noble to die in an arena with the chance to take a man down with you than to die without glory in a slaughterhouse, only to be eaten after just 6–9 months of life. A *toro* in a bullfight lives 5–6 years in total freedom on vast pastures, while those destined for the butcher rarely see a field, stuck in livestock factories instead.
Hey everyone! 🤗
If we're talking about those who are going to or have been to the Camargue, what was (or is) your goal? What did you discover, or what are you looking for in this region that’s so stark because of its climate and locals who seem to shut themselves off when you arrive?
Don’t tell me that for you, the Camargue is all about walking down the main street of Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer just to buy a *gardian* hat you’ll never wear because you’d look ridiculous anywhere else. 😅
The Camargue is so much more than that. And since the word "authenticity" is trendy these days, by digging a little deeper, you can rediscover what regional France brings to us in terms of diversity. 😊
Hi
Every year, I go to Les Saintes on June 24th and 25th to celebrate Sara e kali—that’s it. I’m not interested in the gardians or the bulls; I just go to meet up with friends and party.
Hi there,
I go to Les Saintes every year on June 24th and 25th to celebrate Sara e Kali, that’s it. I’m not interested in the gardians or the bulls—I just go to meet up with friends and party.
Hey,
I get you because I spent my early childhood with the Gitanos of Montpellier, especially Luis, the oldest of Manitas de Plata’s kids. Back then, the Spanish Gitanos, as we called them, didn’t mix with the others from the East (the Manouches).
My childhood was filled with swimming at the Pissière du Lez with them, songs, guitars, dances, improvised flamenco, and hedgehog stews for the poorest (and above all, freedom) 🤘
Times have changed today. Whether in Camargue or anywhere else in the world, what matters most is taking selfies and being able to say "I was there" 😅. It’s lame, but that’s what the new generations are into—superficial stuff.
How many people have I heard say when they land in Les Saintes, "But where are the pink flamingos?" Even though the keyword for many travelers is "authenticity"—that’s what they’re looking for.
The Camargue Courses, formerly called "Free Courses," are the only "show" in the world today where men face wild animals that can take their lives in a second if an artery is hit or severed by the horns (the danger is always present for our young people—it’s in the air and in our thoughts). Yet, in the stands of the Arenas, you often hear tourists laughing their heads off because they don’t understand anything and don’t grasp what’s happening in the sand and dust (normal—they don’t know what a wild animal is). And that’s with all the respect and love we have for our bulls, who return to the fields after the races.
When it comes to authenticity, these races, which date back over 700 years in our region, are as authentic as it gets. These bull games became a sport for affiliation with a French federation (FFCC) and insurance to cover accidents and deaths that come with it.
The chill that runs down your spine when an "action" is really tight—tourists will never know that. The world is miles away from understanding who the Camarguais really are. In my family, across at least four generations, my grandfather and uncles practically all made a living facing bulls, even during the war in clandestine races because the Germans banned them. We fought against the church and priests for decades because in some of our villages, arenas were built right next to church walls, and people deserted masses to go "to the bulls" next door (the priests were furious 😅). Even today, the Arenas of Saint-Laurent-d’Aigouze in the Gard have their bull pen in the sacristy (photo attached). My cousin, a "raseteur," just left the top group of champions after a career of over 10 years in the bulls. In other words, I was born right in the middle of it all 😊
When I was young, I took part in bull-running games several times (like the "bulls in the pool" events). You could win prize money to make some pocket money 😏.
If I’d been from the area, I might’ve become a *razeteur*… ;)
When I was young, I took part in "taureaux emboulés" (pool bulls) several times. We could win prizes to make some pocket money :)
If I had been from the region, I might have become a "razeteur"...[;)
That’s a brave "counille"! The "taureaux piscine" don’t involve bulls but rather young cows whose horn tips are protected to minimize accidents—though the main goal is to entertain the crowd. Still, taking a "boîte" even from the females can leave lifelong scars. 😄
PS: I edited my previous post to add a few anecdotes and a photo of an arena with the toril in the church (just to annoy the priests of the time). 😄
Regarding the Colombian Corralejas (a kind of ancestral bullfighting tradition without killing the bulls), which is the other bullfighting event I attend in the north of this beautiful country.
The constitutional court has unfortunately just ruled for the total ban of Corralejas (among other things) within a maximum of 3 years (a deadline for the thousands of locals who live off this tradition through small jobs to start retraining).
It’s a real catastrophe for the Corralejeros, of which I am a part.
The anti-bullfighting and anti-everything groups are attacking us from all sides in the name of so-called animal welfare, about which they actually know nothing (we’ve seen the huge mistakes they’ve made by releasing bears and wolves).
Our Camargue Courses are also at risk—one day, they’ll come after us too!!!
From what I remember... The games were indeed with young cows, and I used to win all the prizes. So they made the challenge harder by releasing a bull—well, a small male with sawed-off or blunted horns, not a real bullfighting bull!—and that’s when I didn’t just "take a hit" but did a full "sun"—that was the term they used. And the "sun" also earned you a prize, but that "incident" cooled me off, and afterward, I hesitated to go back into the arena. 🐂
The Camargue is a land of macho men full of pride and arrogance. Those who end up in wheelchairs after getting roughed up by those little cows never talk about it and stay hidden in their homes forever.
From family memories, my great-grandmother forbade her daughters from hanging out with the bull shavers—considered troublemakers, they were "looked down upon" by the community.
But as a woman, how could you resist these modern-day gladiators, especially when they’re good-looking too? 🤩 No contest compared to some office clerk! 😄
Two more countries where bullfighting culture (Corridas and Courses Camarguaise) has fallen into disuse: Morocco and Algeria.
I remember that the King of Morocco used to bring in Camargue bulls to attend these events (he probably also attended Corridas in his own country).
In France, many young Moroccans and Algerians have "embraced" our local traditions. Perfectly integrated into the bullfighting world and the realm of Toro bravo, some have become Toreros, raseteurs, gardians, or are simply involved within the Federation.
When you see the rejection of France by many kids in the neighborhoods of big cities, they should take a trip to our Camargue or to southern countries like Spain and Portugal, etc., which are examples of integration for Algerian and Moroccan immigrants who are also our children today (we cheer for them from the stands of Courses Camarguaise and Corridas) 🤲. Note regarding Corridas with death finishes: many Moroccans are Toreros (Matadors). To my knowledge, there are no Algerians in this discipline, unlike in Courses Camarguaise where descendants of immigrants from these two countries are much more present.
The cultural side of bullfighting with the *toréadors* should be put into perspective, since all of that dates back to the second half of the 19th century. Eugénie de Montijo, the wife of Napoleon III, was Spanish, and that’s what explains the import of these barbaric customs.
For me, things like bullfighting, boxing, football, and MMA are just tangible proof that human evolution is still at a pretty early stage.
« 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
The cultural side of bullfighting with the toreros should be put into perspective since all of that dates back to the second half of the 19th century. Eugénie de Montijo, the wife of Napoleon III, was Spanish, and that’s what explains the importation of these barbaric customs.
For me, things like bullfighting, boxing, football, and MMA are just tangible proof that human evolution is still at a very early stage.
Hey, regarding bullfighting, you say that because you don’t know it (or you’ve only seen it through screens). And that way, you’re not really experiencing it at all (no intensity).
Bullfighting is a whole experience (music, costumes, rituals, atmosphere, etc.).
But above all, it’s a fair, balanced fight between a wild animal and a man with his bare hands (or almost). Just a piece of cloth as a lure against a 500–600 kg beast whose horns can kill in a second.
And when I say it’s a fair fight, I’m not entirely convinced—because the torero has no weapon to defend himself, while the bull does. Only the cape or the muleta makes me say it’s fair, because faced with the bull’s desire to kill brutally, the torero uses his intelligence by putting the cloth forward.
It’s the only current fight in the world between a wild animal and a man who risks his life at every moment 😊
I probably don’t fully grasp all the forum’s nuances yet, but I have to admit I’m struggling to understand how a long-time member can get my replies deleted—especially when they follow VoyageForum’s editorial guidelines.
Jojoone1 recently wrote: « To me, things like bullfighting, boxing, football, and MMA are just tangible proof that human evolution is still in its early stages. » Interesting. Even more so since his profile says he’s passionate about football and rugby, among other things. That’s what you call a contradiction... or a finely tuned sense of paradox.
So, was it because I dared to point out this inconsistency that he felt entitled to have my reply removed?
The same thing happened in the thread *« Whatever Happened to Them? »*, where my message—polite, no less—mysteriously vanished.
Jojoone1, you once told me:
« Who loves well chastises well. »
Fair enough. But your way of “chastising” looks a lot like abusing the *report* button. A reflex that kicks in a little too quickly, maybe, whenever someone disagrees with you?
And since you seem to equate certain passions with signs of human regression, let me clarify:
Fans of bullfighting, football, or other sports aren’t necessarily mentally stunted cavemen. You can love a sport, a tradition, or a culture without having missed a step in evolution.
I hope that in the future, our exchanges will be a little more open and a little less “moderated” in every sense of the word.
On my end, no hard feelings—just a desire to discuss without a gag. 😛
The real problem is that you state a lot of things without knowing. But you're more sure of yourself than someone who actually knows. It's not a big deal, we're all a bit like that, but sometimes you have to force yourself to slow down.
What I do know is that I never reported you and I never deleted any of your messages.
« 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
The real problem is that you state a lot of things without knowing. But you're more sure of yourself than someone who actually knows. It's not a big deal, we're all a bit like that, but sometimes you have to force yourself to slow down.
What I do know is that I never reported you and I never deleted any of your messages.
Neither you nor anyone else will make me slow down—as long as I stay within the rules of this forum. As for the rest, I don’t believe you (and you make me laugh, judging that certain people and cultures are barbarians).
As for writing nonsense about bullfights and only finding dates from the 19th century when tauromachy has existed for over two thousand years (and you dare tell me I state things without knowing), you’re really something, man 😄
Who’d like to share their best and worst travel memories in a few lines?
For me, it’s watching the TAJ MAHAL at sunrise and getting chased by dogs at the top of a mountain pass in GREECE on the way back from ISTANBUL.
THANKS GUYS
"It seems to me that poverty would be less painful in the sun" wrote Aznavour...
Not sure...😕 Who can prove that people in hot countries are happier than others?
What do you think?
Is it better to live in Montpellier than in Lille?
Are the Pygmies happier than the Inuit?
Are Canadians less happy than the people of Louisiana?
Are there more French expats in hot countries?
And your travels? Do you choose your destinations based on the climate?
Do you rejoice when a bit of sunshine appears?
Hi everyone, just this once I’m not posting for a travel story, but to share a thought for Venezuela.
If you didn’t know—since it’s not making headlines—the country was hit by two 7.5-magnitude earthquakes last week. Over 2,200 people have died, more than 50,000 are missing, and some coastal towns have been completely destroyed.
Maybe when the scale of the humanitarian crisis becomes clear, our media will cover it a bit more... especially since earthquakes with this many casualties usually make the front page, but there’s been nothing in France.
So here’s a thought for this country, which, whatever you think of its politics, is a true jewel of South America, both for its landscapes and its people.
hi there
I’d like to invite you to discover my coastal province in central Vietnam: Quang Ngai.
This year, my province has really improved its infrastructure—mountains, countryside, and sea are all authentic here.
No harassers or thieves, and no Russians either.
A local lunch costs around 1 €.
A *** hotel room is about 25 €, and you can find hotels right on My Khe Beach.
We have a specialty: *banh xeo*—10 crepes for just 1.5 €.
You can rent motorbikes to explore the province and maybe visit the many ethnic minorities.
I live here—I’m not selling anything, but I can help if needed (my father-in-law is a traditional Vietnamese doctor and he’s very skilled).
Hi everyone! 😉
I’m Typhaine, 35 years old. Five years ago, I left France for a solo round-the-world trip—no planes, just a van, hitchhiking, cycling, and even a canoe in the Amazon! Today, I work as a naturalist guide in Argentine Patagonia.
Wherever I go, my compass stays the same: observing and photographing wildlife, which I deeply admire and respect.
My project: I’d love to share this experience through a sustainable, authentic, and immersive nature tourism initiative. But to build something meaningful, I need to understand how other nature enthusiasts experience their own adventures.
If you:
Are over 20 years old
Have a true passion for Nature
Have already taken at least one trip lasting more than 3 nights (in your country or abroad) in your life
Promise: I’m not selling anything, this isn’t marketing. Your answers are 100% anonymous and will only help me shape this wild project.
A huge thank you to everyone for your help and kindness! Looking forward to chatting in this thread 😛
(Dear admins, this is purely a collaborative effort for my project study, with no commercial purpose. Thank you so much for your support!)
Photo: Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis), female on the left and her cub on the right. Photo taken by me in Alaska, Denali National Park.
It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.
A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question.
They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???
Not even a simple thank you!!!
From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕
Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????
I spent 3 weeks in Bali last summer (+ 3 nights on Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java). So I wanted to see what ChatGPT could suggest for comparison...
Here’s the prompt I gave:
"You’re a local expert guide for Bali.
- Plan a 20-day itinerary for Bali with a side trip to Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java without staying overnight.
- I’m traveling with my wife, and I love visiting historical sites, hiking, relaxing at the beach, snorkeling, and exploring rice terraces...
- For the duration of the stay, I don’t want more than 8 places to sleep, and I’d like to stay at least 2 days at each stop to avoid unpacking too often. Except for the last night, where I’m okay with just one night near the airport.
- I prefer neighborhoods that are walkable and try to avoid typical tourist traps, though I don’t want to miss the must-see spots. So suggest a mix of iconic sites and hidden gems.
- Recommend hotels or guesthouses with a budget of 50 to 100 € per night, including breakfast. Make suggestions in areas popular with travelers, specifying the vibe (I prefer quiet), and consider safety and proximity to attractions.
- For lunch and dinner, suggest two to three restaurants that are well-rated by customers.
- Give me a day-by-day program with details on travel times, visiting times for each point of interest, and recommendations for transportation (taxi, train, bike, etc.).
Estimate the total cost of the trip, including accommodations, food, transportation, and activities, and suggest two tips for saving money in each category.
- Don’t make anything up—be realistic about travel times, take into account the opening dates and hours of sites, and give me the entry fees for places to visit.
- Ask me all the questions until you’re 95% sure you understand what’s being asked. Don’t generate your response until you’ve understood."
The AI asked for a few clarifications:
"Great request—I can build you a really optimized and enjoyable itinerary, but to be 95% sure I hit the mark, I need a few key clarifications (this will really influence the pace, areas, and accommodations)."
In the end, it proposed a program very close to what we actually did.
I’ll skip its accommodation and restaurant suggestions...
Its proposal:
"Ubud (4 nights) => we did 5 nights
Sidemen (2 nights)
Amed (3 nights) => we’d planned 2 nights
Gili Meno (3 nights) => we did Gili between Sidemen and Amed
Munduk (3 nights) => we did 2 nights before Pemuteran
Pemuteran (3 nights) with Ijen => we did 4 nights
Sanur (2 nights + 1 last night) => we chose Jatiluwih instead of Sanur
It suggested "activities" (and accommodations too):
IN UBUD:
- Walk around central Ubud (1–2h)
- Campuhan Ridge Walk
- Tegalalang Rice Terrace
- Tirta Empul
- Gunung Kawi
- Massage / market / slow café
IN SIDEMEN:
- Rice terrace hike (2–3h)
- Cooking class
IN AMED:
- Snorkeling
- Japanese Shipwreck
- Beach + relaxation
- Volcano sunset
ON GILI:
- Snorkeling at Gili Meno Turtle Point, Nest Underwater Statues
IN MUNDUK:
- Jungle & waterfall hike - Munduk Waterfall + Melanting Waterfall
- Loop: 3–4h (perfect for your level)
- Ulun Danu Bratan Temple
- Twin Lakes
IN PEMUTERAN
- Snorkeling: Menjangan Island
For Kawah Ijen, it detailed the day well:
👍 from Pemuteran = best possible option
12 PM: leave hotel (we left at 10 PM)
1 PM: ferry
3 PM: arrival in Java + transfer
11 PM: start ascent
2 AM–6 AM: volcano
Return to Bali around 11 AM–12 PM (we got back at 4 PM)
👍 still very intense, but doable with an agency
💰 ~80–120 €/person all-inclusive
IN SANUR:
- Relaxation
- Quiet beach
- Proximity to airport (30 min)"
I’ve kept the habit of blowing my nose in the sink and then washing my hands—a custom I picked up in India. Sometimes, non-travelers are shocked when they catch me in the act... 🤪
Also, when I run out of toilet paper, it doesn’t bother me—unless I’ve got company over... 🤪
Just got back from walking a friend’s dog (while they’re on vacation), wearing a djellaba and Tibetan boots... 😏😏😏 Oh, for sure, if I’d run into locals, I probably would’ve shocked them? 😏
Anyway, as long as I’m not spitting on the floor at a restaurant or squatting on the side of a highway with a water bottle in hand...
After taking a little trip around the world, I came back a few months ago with an idea in mind.
I mostly do diving, and I love observing animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.
During the trip, I realized it was quite complicated to know where and when to see certain species.
For example:
where to dive with sharks or manta rays
where you might get a chance to swim with whales
I even discovered thresher sharks during my trip… I didn’t even know this species existed before, even though they’re incredible to see.
We spent a ton of time searching for info all over the place, especially on social media, without ever getting a clear picture.
So I started putting all this together on my own, in the form of a map, to make it easier to visualize where to go depending on the seasons.
I recently put a first version online (it’s called Fauneya).
There are probably mistakes, inconsistencies, or things to improve, and that’s partly why I’m posting here.
I’d really love to know how you all go about planning this kind of trip.
As part of my Master’s thesis, I’m currently conducting a public survey on a topic that concerns all of us when planning a trip: artificial intelligence and the role of human contact in travel planning.
These days, we’re using more and more digital tools to find ideas, compare options, and book trips... but is the role of human advisors still essential? At what moments? And for what types of trips?
The survey is anonymous and takes about 7 minutes.
It’s aimed at anyone who travels (or has traveled) for leisure, whether you plan everything yourself or go through an agency.
While browsing the forum to gather info for my upcoming trip to Thailand, I often see the terms "traveler," "great traveler," and also "tourist"—so what’s the nuance for you?
I've traveled quite a bit in Vietnam over the past few years—from the southern delta to bustling cities and even some small islands—but what really sticks with me is the north, the high mountains.
Up there, there's something different—maybe slower, more raw. The morning markets with ethnic groups, women in traditional clothes, the colors...
The stilt houses, kids following you and laughing for no reason, the terraced rice fields—it almost feels unreal at times, so vast and quiet, yet so human and simple.
You often hear that Sapa has become too touristy, and that's partly true, especially in the center. But as soon as you move a little farther away, everything changes quickly. The landscapes open up, encounters feel more natural, and you rediscover something truly authentic.
I think it's that contrast that struck me—the difference between what you imagine before going and what you actually discover when you take the time.
And you—what memory do you hold onto from Vietnam? A particular place that touched you more than others?
Hello,
We’re finalizing the plans for our upcoming trip to China in May 2025. The second-to-last stop will be in Zhangjiajie, where we’ve planned to stay for 2 full days before heading to Shanghai.
We’re traveling solo using local transport and have arranged to stay in the city of Zhangjiajie.
We’ve seen that there’s a lot to see:
Tianmen Mountain, the Grand Canyon and the glass bridge, Zhangjiajie National Park, and that the sites are quite far apart with fairly expensive entry fees.
We’re thinking of dedicating one day to the national park and the Grand Canyon (glass bridge) and one day to Tianmen Mountain.
But we’re not sure if this plan is realistic—any thoughts would be much appreciated!
I should be serving a warming drink to the participants in the discussion about gardens and parks that provide us with beautiful photos, I could mention the delicious buttery scent wafting from bakeries in the thread about returning to France, but my heart, its powerful pulse that nourishes my entire being, is elsewhere.
Dasht-e Lut, Yazd, Esfahan, Bam, Kerman, Qeshm, Hormuz—a melody, a prayer at the heart of desire.
A dream, an unattainable fantasy? No. Not anymore.
A very serious Italian travel agency is organizing this trip for 6 people this winter. I’m signed up, I’m going, I’m living. Maybe.
"But you’re completely crazy!!!!"
I know... I know that every civilization, every society has a vital need to create scapegoats to define and justify itself, pathetically. And Iran is one of them, top of the list. I laugh or sigh, and it doesn’t bother me.
But that unchanging red, deep red and garnet, so beautiful in itself, in all the Western chancelleries repeats, whispers, shouts: don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, you’re putting yourself in danger and we can’t do anything for you. You’ll be turned into mere bargaining chips, into arguments for endless negotiations. Fear must be instilled, its power absolutely preserved, no concessions made to the enemy. The information (how many French hostages, real or fake, compared to the number of travelers?) is always lacking.
Traveling becomes a merciless confrontation between desire, the vital pulse, and anxiety, its ghosts.
Hi everyone, here’s our itinerary. Arriving on the evening of December 13th. Departing on January 7th.
Thanks in advance for your tips and valuable feedback.
Manila – 1 night
Coron – 4 nights
Coron to El Nido cruise – 2 nights
El Nido – 4 nights
Port Barton – 5 nights
Flight from Puerto Princesa to Vigan
Vigan – 2 nights
Sagada – 2 nights
Banaue – 2 nights
Bagabag – 1 night
Manila – 1 night
I’ve only booked the flight to Manila and the Manila/Coron flight so far. Is it possible to book boat trips, accommodations, and the Puerto Princesa flight last-minute?
Really disappointed with Costa Rica! Pura vida? The scam of the century!
(Costa Rica pure emptiness).
The country where animals are free and people are in cages.
3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer.
Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness.
My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place.
On the main routes, we visited:
San José
Alajuela
Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side)
Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side)
And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched.
He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown.
What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor.
At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José:
It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken.
On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox.
From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire.
Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets.
Bars with security guards out front.
I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel.
The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses.
The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in.
A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park.
Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further.
We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it.
A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces.
A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures.
But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business.
Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse!
According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable.
Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos.
A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park!
A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park.
The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color.
Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded!
Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30.
The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches.
As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves.
A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!"
For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex!
The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for?
For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places.
In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs:
Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you.
For everyone else: run!
Hello,
Since the war between Russia and Ukraine, nothing is simple anymore for traveling to Belarus due to sanctions.
No more direct flights from the EU to Minsk.
Driving is a huge hassle, especially crossing through Poland at the only open border in Brest—you can wait 2, 3, or even 4 days just to get through by car.
The least painful driving option is to come via Lithuania and cross at the only open border, with a minimum wait time of 8 hours, sometimes up to 20 hours or more!!
Controls are very strict and annoying on both the Lithuanian and Belarusian sides. Avoid bringing alcohol, food, or cigarettes—everything will end up in the trash, especially when leaving Belarus for Vilnius, where the Lithuanians are tough, even with EU citizens.
The joy I once knew when visiting my wife in Minsk is sadly over—it’s now a real ordeal.
The fastest solution is to fly. My wife travels to France by taking a bus to Kaunas in Lithuania, where you can catch a flight (though not daily) to Paris Beauvais or Charleroi in Belgium with Ryanair, for example.
For the return trip, it’s the same: a flight to Kaunas and then a direct bus from the airport to Minsk.
The bus crossing is quicker than driving—the 250 km journey, including border checks, takes about 6 to 8 hours for buses leaving Lithuania around midnight, but controls are still strict at the border.
The biggest challenge is finding flight schedules that align with the bus routes between the two countries, given the unpredictable border crossing times.
Now, my wife travels via Charleroi in Belgium (near Brussels), and you can take a train to Paris. Alternatively, you can fly into Beauvais and take a bus to Paris (Porte Maillot).
For those driving, note that EU insurance and assistance policies no longer work in Belarus or Russia. You’ll need to get local insurance, usually limited to third-party liability (I don’t think full coverage exists?), as well as mandatory medical insurance. This is available at the border.
You now have to pay highway tolls—no more BELTOLL boxes. Instead, you pay a flat fee for the duration of your stay. Stop at the first gas station after crossing from Lithuania to fill up on fuel and cigarettes.
From what I know, Lithuania bans carrying more than 60 € in cash, but there’s no limit for USD (though it’s capped at $10,000??).
With a Visa card, you can now withdraw 1,000 rubles per week (about 270 €)—two months ago, it was only 500 rubles!!
For now, you can still pay by card in shops and gas stations.
However, major retailers like KORONA (which may be Russian-owned??) no longer accept foreign Visa cards.
Unfortunately, the additional sanctions announced by the U.S. on August 5, 2025, against Russia—and possibly Belarus—aren’t promising for the future.
After 20 years of visiting Belarus, I’m truly saddened to see the joy of living in this country with my wonderful wife turn into such a bleak situation, all because of human folly.
Hi everyone!
I’m putting together our travel itinerary for Veneto at the end of April. And the more I look and research potential sites to visit, the more I find!
We’ll only be there for a week—my family and I—including 3 days in Venice. So we have to make some choices...
I plan to rent a car when we arrive in Venice and head straight to Bergamo, which would be our first stop. We’d leave the car at the airport when we return to Venice so we can explore the city at our leisure.
What do you think:
1 night in Bergamo (a 2h15 drive from Venice airport),
1 night in Garda,
1 night in Verona,
1 in Padua, and
3 in Venice—would that be doable?
Thanks in advance for your tips and experiences! :)
Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here.
It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.
First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.
My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year.
I told her:
“Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.”
“But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.”
I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk.
“Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.”
I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).
July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen.
“Mamido, I did it!”
My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no!
“Congratulations, sweetheart!”
A little shyly, she said:
“Is the India trip still on?”
And me, replying:
“Of course it is!”
And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.
We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint!
But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out.
Personally, that works just fine for me.
Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me.
But I promised.
The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.
It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back.
My little girl will go home to her parents.
As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.
How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special?
That’s the mystery of love, I guess.
I’ve visited the U.S. four times myself, including two long road trips. The last one was just this past August...
I won’t be going back. I already felt guilty last August, but recent policies have finally convinced me: the humiliation of Zelensky, authoritarian excesses, Gestapo-like methods for detaining people of foreign origin, the murder of innocent people (a mother shot dead), corruption, insane "tariffs," skyrocketing healthcare costs for Americans, the abduction of foreign figures to secure oil, the requirement to disclose social media accounts, and now... threats and blackmail to forcibly take Greenland—a region that belongs to Denmark and thus the European Union!
The reality is that simply posting this could get me denied entry to the U.S.!
In this context, I just can’t keep spending money there. I loved my trips, but there are so many other countries with stunning landscapes to explore.
So I get why you’d want to travel there. I did, and I loved it. But once a country no longer respects any of the values that made us love it, why go?
How can we even consider traveling to a country that threatens to take one of our territories by force?
Hello everyone,
Controversial topic? Not necessarily—maybe just a reflection on a world to come.
I spent the last 15 days of August on a cruise in Greenland, from Kangerlussuaq to Tasiilaq.
I was utterly amazed by this unique world of rock and ice, the little houses in every color, a simple life that’s also complicated by isolation and climate, among other things...
I carry in my heart the kindness of the people I met, the raw and gentle majesty of the icebergs, the colors of the sky...
So, I can’t even imagine a massive presence of raw material prospectors, heavy machinery requiring roads to be built—if that’s even possible—changing their way of life... putting sled dogs out to pasture!
Do fast food and Greenland’s northern lights really mix?
I wouldn’t trade my memories for an ESTA!
All opinions are respectable, which is why this isn’t a controversy—but I’m sorry, I have a soft spot for *my* Greenland.
We’re a couple aged 58 and 63. We’ve just returned from a wonderful trip to South India in Tamil Nadu and a few days in Kerala. We traveled with a local French-speaking guide and his friend, the driver. They both live in Pondicherry. We spent 3 weeks with them in the most authentic way!
We covered just over 2,500 km and visited not only temples but also archaeological sites, museums, and small artisanal businesses making tiles, tea, sculptures, bronze, and silk spinning. We were lucky enough to visit a public school, attend a wedding, and even a death announcement in a small countryside village. We were fully immersed in the culture, food, noise, and colors—it was incredible!
The hotels and guesthouses we chose were very clean and mostly quiet. We’re returning from India with amazing discoveries!
We’re happy to share more info if you’d like!
M-Claire and Jean
This catchy and somewhat mysterious title comes from several questions I’ve been asking myself.
VF has been back open for a reasonable number of weeks and months now.
The number of visitors overall matches past averages, but the number of members online in the last 24 hours seems relatively lower than what we used to see.
Yet, to my surprise, I’m seeing fewer travel journals, way fewer messages, and way fewer questions.
I don’t see many new registered users online, and I notice a number of members who are logged in but either aren’t participating or have stopped participating.
Something’s not adding up for me because, in my opinion, VF is still appealing, and I don’t see which other sites could really compete.
Was there a real break between pre- and post-Covid?
Does it just take more time for some people to discover the site or learn that it’s active again?
Do people now prefer quick consumption on sites like FB or others I’m not familiar with?
Where have the site’s old-timers gone, and what are they doing with their time now?
What’s really going on here?
This isn’t exactly a traveler’s question... I’d like to know who handles the technical side of this forum?
I run a similar forum on a different topic (unrecognized children), and we’re dealing with a few technical issues that are slowly killing our forum... so I’d have one or two questions to ask 😊.
Also, I was wondering who created this forum... who the administrators or moderators are, etc.
I think this forum is great. Much better than Facebook, which I’ve been using since it shut down (so I’m happy to see it’s working again...)
Hi there, I’ve been traveling for 18 years now, at least 6 months a year, and as the years go by, I actually enjoy coming back to France more and more—a feeling I struggled with at first. I mean, we always think the grass is greener elsewhere.
But in the end, I find meaning in that saying about how there’s no place like home. I still love traveling just as much, but now my trips are shorter, and I enjoy spending more time in our beautiful country, even though I don’t hesitate to criticize it.
How about you? How do you handle coming back from your travels?
A few years ago, I went with a group of friends to lend a hand at a small rural school near Thiès, Senegal.
It was a relaxed but hardworking atmosphere—hands in the mortar, laughter, exchanges, and everything that a COOPERATION project can bring.
Today, the little project is flying on its own.
Wanting to explore Senegal’s riches, we set off for some tourism in the Siné Saloum. One girl in our group fell ill (a malaria attack), and we decided to take her to see a doctor at a large tourist complex nearby. Despite her condition, we had to "show our credentials" (if I may say so) just to get in. She was treated and has been fine since.
This "stop" at a Club Med-style resort with a Teutonic twist—resembling Le Grau-du-Roi but fancier—was a horror show for us: pools, massive artificial basins dyed blue, pink, or green (!!!!), animators shouting around wet T-shirt contests or coconut tree climbing, and sunburned (or sun-pinked) *toubabs*.
The entire hotel was surrounded by a huge wall, behind which a small souvenir-seller slum had sprung up, worthy of Dakar’s outer neighborhoods.
On leaving, we saw a minibus of guests returning from an "excursion," loaded with masks, fabrics, and djembés—African souvenirs?
Maybe those will be *theirs*?
What impression did the kids clustered at the hotel gates get?
What about the Black servers in "traditional African costumes," serving cocktails and ice cream nonstop?
For me, who experienced Africa very young and in the bush, this remains a haunting image.
On VF, this kind of vacation doesn’t seem to be the norm among users, and that’s exactly why I signed up.
Have you ever experienced this kind of interstellar travel?
Do you understand the Martians?
Are their motivations peaceful?
Hi everyone,
The first Camargue races in France, where men dressed in white—called "raséteurs" because they "shave" the bulls by making an arc—date back to around the 1400s.
That’s to say, it’s an ancestral local tradition that still brings together an entire community called "Bouvine" across 5-6 departments in the south of France, in a little over a hundred arenas, from the smallest to the largest.
Seven bulls make up a race.
Around ten raséteurs will face these beasts, raised exclusively in vast open spaces for the Camargue races.
These bulls, locally called "Biou" to distinguish them from the Spanish fighting bulls used in bullfights, are "bistournés" at a fairly young age (bistournage involves pinching the testicular vessels) to make them less heavy—they lose the muscle mass you see on the upper neck in other breeds.
Lighter, more agile, and thus better suited to the specific "work" of the CC (abbreviation for Camargue race).
Each bull wears attributes: a small piece of red fabric on the forehead called a "cocarde," a white wool pompom called a "gland" at the base of each horn, and beneath these glands, a string with a regulated number of turns depending on the competition level the biou is participating in.
The raséteurs, all affiliated with the Fédération Française de la Course Camarguaise (FFCC), are equipped with a hook (a sort of iron comb). The goal is to remove the attribute(s), with the prize money increasing as the bull’s 15-minute turn progresses.
The meaner, trickier, or more difficult the bull is for the men, the higher the prize money climbs—sometimes reaching 1000 to 2000 euros depending on the category of the raséteurs and bulls.
G1 (Group 1) are the pros, G2 (Group 2) are the former pros (to put it simply), G3 (Group 3) is the future (the youngest, just out of G4, which are league races). In other words, the first bulls with bare horns for these youngsters coming from taurine schools where the bious have their horn tips protected by a lead cap to minimize accidents that can happen to these young raséteurs in G5, who are around 15-17 years old.
Around 900 Camargue races take place every year, from early March to late November.
That’s to say, there’s at least one every day according to the federal calendar prepared in advance with organizers, local taurine clubs, etc....
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