Paris, au mois d'aout : je négocie ma démission de mon poste d'animatrice socio culturel.
Village berbere au mois de septembre : je me marie devant Dieu.
Paris, au mois d'octobre : je liquide tout c'est à dire pas grand chose, mon appartement et le peu qu'il contient que j'abandonne à mon cher ami et compagnon de route, Haitham.
Tanger, au mois de novembre : je commence ma nouvelle vie d'habitante de la casba.
Tanger, au mois de janvier : je commence ce journal, dans un cybercafé, une clope au bec, une bouteille de sidi ali à mes cotés, pour mon plus grand plaisir et peut etre pour partager ce plaisir des mots d'ailleurs, des mots d'ici et maintenant avec quelques cyber voyageurs.
Je ne sais trop par quoi commencer, le commencenement peut être ?...peut être pas. A voir, a vous de voir peut être ? peut être pas... à bientot.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Je n'oublierais jamais ta demande en mariage sur msn, ton visage était tellement joyeux, j'aimais tellement ta couleur caramel, tes yeux noirs, ta chemise à carreaux orange.
Oui
Tu as téléphoné à Aicha, ta maman, elle a dit "c'est pas un peu rapide" puis comme tes frères et tes soeurs elle s'est tout de suite réjouis à l'idée de préparer une petite fête. Elle a tout de suite acheté le héné, et ta soeur Fatiha m'a acheté un bague en or et un kaftan.
Quand mon avion a attéri à Tanger le 1er septembre mon coeur battait la chamade. Nos retrouvailles étaient électriques, torides, tendres, douces. Ton cousin Mustafa m'a offert des fleurs.
Et puis il y eu cette matinée joyeuse, inondée d'amour. on a pris un petit déjeuner au dessus de tes moyens à la terrasse du café central dans le petit sook de Tanger. Il y avait ton cousin Mustafa, et ta soeur Khadidja. Je les trouvais beau, comme toi. Ta soeur était génée d'être à la terrasse d'un café, et moi je me retenais de fumer des clopes devant elle.
Tu as acheter des rollers pour ton neveu Mohamed et on a pris le bus pour partir dans ton lointain village du moyen atlas. Ca a été le plus beau voyage de ma vie de voyageuse...L'amour est descendu sur nous comme une présence.
"Oh Aziz, ce n'est pas moi qui t'aime, ce n'est pas toi qui m'aime, c'est l'amour qui nous aime. Ce n'est pas moi qui te désire, ce n'est pas toi qui me désire, c'est la vie qui désire vivre, tu comprend mon amour, est-ce que tu comprend ?"
Tu comprenais, tu goutais comme moi emerveillé, surpris par cette présence apaisante dans laquelle, par laquelle nous vivions.
17 heures de trajet m'emenaient vers un ailleurs que je n'imaginais pas exister au Maroc. Des petits villages toujours plus petits, plus sauvages, des routes de plus en plus cabossées.
On est descendu à Reech, on a bu un café. Je t'ai dit "c'est le farwest ici, j'adore!". Tu étais rassuré, tu avais peur que je n'aime pas.
Le bus qui devait nous conduire à Benitajid, ton village natale étaient empli, je me suis assise sur une chaise et toi tu t'es assis entre les deux allées de chaises. On était tellement lié, tellement un, on a pleuré de cette grâce, on a juré de préserver cette amour et de toujours faire le bien pour remercier Dieu, pour que la présence ne parte jamais. Le chauffeur écoutait des musiques berberes, et moi je planais.
A middle, ton cousin Lahcen attendait le bus pour nous saluer, On a continuer notre route et à minuit, sous un ciel étoilé nous sommes arrivés dans un ville farwest ou les routes sont en terre et les maisons traditionnelles toutes roses. Ton frêre Rachid nous attendait. Il a porté mon sac. Je l'ai trouvé si beau. Dans le paysage de cette nuit bleu noir se détachaient des montagnes violettes, des montagnes riches en minerais. Je n'avais jamais vu de tel paysage, et un tel paysage ne m'avais jamais vu. "Mon Dieu si c'est un rêve des milles et une nuit, ne me reveille pas, pas tout de suite, c'est si bon"
J'ai aimé la maison qui t'as vu naitre, Aicha a enfanté ici, les femmes de ton village ne vont pas à l'hopital. J'ai aimé le jardin recouvert de vigne, le salon avec une table basse, des tapis berberes confectionnés par Aicha, et une petite télé. J'aimais tout, le treffle sur la porte, le carrellage de toute les couleurs, la terrasse sur le toit, la petite salle de bain ou on se lave au sceaux, tout respirait la pureté, la sobriété, la paix.
Le tagine aux olives étaient délicieux, et le matin Fatiha nous préparait des crépes. La journée on se promenait dans la campagne entre champs de blé, déserts rocailleux, cours d'eau asséchés pendant qu'a'mi said, ton oncle bienveillante et ton frêre Ali oganisaient la petite cérémonie.
Je ne voulais pas un mariage de vierge, je voulais un mariage semblable à celui du prophete Mohamed et d'Aicha.
Alors, un lundi soir, j'ai essayé plusieurs kaftan, tu as mis un belle arbaya blanche. Ami said et Ali avait une djelabah blanche, Fatiha s'est changé plusieurs fois, Rachid et ton cousin avaient opté pour le pince et la chemise, on a égorgée la chevre...
Avant d'entrer dans la piece ou l'on nous attendait j'ai eu peur..."Si je me marie devant Dieu et son messager, alors ils seront témoins, le prophete sera là, suis-je sincére ?" Oui je le suis, je suis prête. Ami Said et Ali on lu du coran. J'ai senti la présence du prophete et il a plu, dans le désert en septembre. Je me suis dit que notre mariage serait heureux. Nos tuteurs nous ont mariés, ton frêre Ali et ton cousin. J'ai accepté ta dotte symbolique : une bague en or, 200 diram, et une couverture berbere. Ton oncle a chanté des chants bédoouins à la louange du prophete, j'ai sorti mon diwan (receuil de poeme soufis à la louange de Dieu et du prophete), je les ai bleufé, il ne s'y attendaient pas...
Ca y est, nous nous étions mariés tout simplement. On s'est dit que notre religion était vraimment facile. c'était le paradis ce soir là, oui le paradis était là, à nos pieds. La chevre était délicieuse. Ta soeur à mis du héné vert dans la paume de ma main, du héné vert dans la paume de ta main, et tu as sérée ta main dans la mienne. J'avais du khol et des étoiles dans les yeux, et deux petites chaines indiennes sur mes pieds nus.
Le lendemain matin on a déjeuné en famille. Ton frere Ali, maladroit et adorable m'a demandé si j'avais bien dormis. Rachid m'a regardé, t'as regardé et l'on a rigolé doucement...
Le lendemain nous sommes allées voir ta grande famille dans un village voisin...
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Tu avais disparu depuis quelques mois et je me demandais ce qui t'était arrivé. Et hier, surprise, je découvre ton nouveau carnet naissant.
Je ne trouve pas mes mots et emprunterai mes mots donc à la sagesse soufie :
Si la parole que tu vas dire n'est pas plus belle que le silence, ne la dis pas.
Salam Alaikoum
bienvenue a l islam
c est une histoire qui touche...soyez joyeuse c est qq chose de rare aujourd hui au maroc...?! Les fetes sont devenues moderne..et tu as de la chance de faire une fete tres traditionnelle et tres sympa avec une famille tres marocaine et-beldienne-non moderne-...c est un plaisir...bon chance et soit prudente..bon courage
bonjour pour mon passage a tanger en camping car nous avons ete attaqués aux feux par des vandalles qui ont voulus nous devaliser et a fallu jouer des poings pour sans sortir alors je pense que tanger n, est pas tres sur peut etre que nous nous faisons une mauvaise idée rassurez nous merci a+
merci je te souhaite moi aussi plein de joie...
si un jour tu vas dans ta famille de l'atlas, et moi dans la mienne, alors on se mail et on se fait un taï...gros bisoux.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
j'avoue que ma nouvelle famille est rentrée dans mon coeur des le premier regard, tant de simplicité, d'amour et d'humilité ça ne peut que toucher...merci pour la joie que tu me souhaite, la joie c'est un état que je pratique...et c'est vrai que pour une raison qui m'échappe, dans les villes au maroc, comme a tanger par exemple on pratique plus la jalousie que la joie. il faut dire que la vie n'est pas toujours facile, au niveau social, le travail ici c'est souvent l'esclavage...a bientot charrif, sois joyeux toi aussi, c'est un état intérieur qu'on peut décidé malgrés tout le reste.
isabelle.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Il est vrai que l'on ne peut pas dire que tanger soit une ville totalement safe, ne dit on pas : marakesh aranakesh, essaouira ca ira, agadir rien a dire, safi ca suffit et tanger danger.
tanger, c'est la ville de la contrebande (une fois la contrebande entrer dans tanger elle devient légale), la ville du hashish, et à présent la ville de tout les clandestins d'afrique qui depuis les bord de la plage regardent l'espagne dont on n'aperçoit meme les maisons, avec des étoiles en forme d'euros dans les yeux...14 kilometres seulement sépare l'afrique de l'europe.
récemment une police vient d'etre supprimée, elle patrouillait la nuit. et depuis tout le monde à peur, cela m'a surpris de voir que les locaux comme les expat circulent en taxi la nuit et speed dans les coins sombres. et si je n'ai jamais eu de probleme, quelques personnes m'ont raconté des histoires d'agressions semblables à la tienne.
ceci étant dit, j'aime tanger, je ne me sens pas en danger (avant 23h, aprés je fait comme tout le monde : j'évite les coins isolés seule) et l'insécurité nocturne du a la misere, ne doit pas empécher les voyageurs de venir. ce n'est pas un guetto de soweto ni une favela bresilienne, loin de la. donc n'hésitez pas a venir.
d'ailleurs si vous venez, venez à l'hotel palace, les chambres les moins cheres sont a 4 euros, c'est trés joli, au coeur de la medina, c'est la que mon mari travail en tant que receptionniste et la que nous logeons pour l'instant. je vous ferais peut etre visiter des petits coins trop mignon qui peuvent échaper aux touristes préssés par le temps.
Isabelle.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Ce qui me plait dans ma nouvelle maison, c'est son ouverture sur l'extérieur...à l'intérieur on se sent dehors, pour passer d'une piece à l'autre on sort en pleine air, certaines fenetres n'ont pas de fenetres, certaines portes n'ont pas de portes. Au milieu de la maison il y a un jardin, au milieu du jardin il y a une fontaine, la verrierre du toit est cassée, et quand il pleut la pluie arrose le jardin. Il fait froid mais j'aime ce sentiment de vivre dehors dedans. J'aime en particulier le matin, je me pose dans une petite cour que peu de clients connaissent et tranquilement, assise sur une marche, avec ma théière d'eau chaude je fait ma toillette en regardant le ciel et les chats qui ont élus domicile chez nous. Dans la maison il y a aussi des oiseaux qui vont et qui viennent. Dans la maison il y a aussi la pluie et la rosée Dans la maison il y a des japonais, des européens, des africains, des enfants, des jeunes filles, des viellards Si un jour vous voulez venir chez moi, c'est facile, notre adresse est dans le guide du routard et dans le lonely planete, venez on boirra un thé sous la vérriére en regardant la pluie tomber et les oiseaux voler. Mon reve : racheter ce délicieux hotel, chaque jour visité par des acheteurs reveurs...1 million d'euros pour un lieu historique dans un quartier historique, on peut toujours réver Rever de retaper la terrasse sur le toit, rever d'organiser des ateliers de cuisine, rever de faire des concert de musique spirituelle un soir d'été sur le toit, rever d'acceuillir les voyageurs commes ils le méritent, réver de faire un beau salon à l'entrée, rever de reserver quelques chambres pour mes amis clochards qui pourront enfin de reposer un peu, rever de donner à la femme de ménage un salaire plus digne, rever de donner aux salariés un jour de repos au moins et des vacances afin qu'ils ne soient pas des esclaves, rever de donner plein d'infos aux voyageurs et de leur proposer des services, rever de transformer telle piece en salon de beauté et tel autre en salon de relaxation, rever de mettre un deshumidificateur pour chasser l'humidité, rever de retaper quelques chambres en suite luxueuses pleines d'antiquités, rever d'aménager des salons secrets dans tout les recoins de l'hotel, rever d'aménager la petite tour qui tombe en ruine et qui mene sur le toit, rever de proposer des cours de gi-cong, rever de faire une petite salle de priere, rever de casser les murs entre la chambre 8/9/10 et 11 afin d'y faire mon appartement et de faire des enfants, rever d'organiser des séminaires, rever du petit magazin que la patron loue mais qui appartient à l'hotel, j'en ferais un magazin de medicaments naturelle ou bien un petit café, rever de faire passer tel message de paix au voyageurs, d'être à leur service car ils seront mes hôtes... Ah seigneur si tu me donnais cet hotel, j'en ferais beaucoup de bien...1 million d'euros, on peut toujours rever.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
merci pour tes petits commentaires qui tombe entre mes mots comme un goutte de fantaisie, une ondée bienfaisante et amusante, entre ciel et terre, c'est là aussi que je vis.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Bonjour Izanora,
Merci pour ce beau témoignage d'amour...l'amour il n'y a que cela.
J'adore le Maroc, j'y vais souvent, cet automne j'ai fait le tour du nord du Maroc, et tous les beaux villages autour de tanger. J'ai adoré Tanger, j'ai eu la chance de coucher dans les dars ou riads de la casbah. Quel silence! le matin, se réveiller avec le chant du coq, c'est réjouissant. Je n'ai eu que du bonheur à Tanger, et je n'ai fait que de bonnes rencontres. D'origine Corse, je suis journaliste à Montréal et si j'ai la chance de venir encore une fois à Tanger. je viendrais voir Ton Palace.
Ton prénom est beau, est il marocain?
Anne Antomarchi
Blog: anne autour du monde
Salam Alaikoum
isa.., merci pour ces mots chaleureux...la vie ce n est pas facile aussi en europe, il ya aussi en europe l exclavage non vue...au maroc, on dit qu il ya de l exclavage que ne l on appele pas l exclavage..la vie au maroc est simple et delesieuse, on gout le tout et avec un peu on peut vivre par ailleurs en europe si tu n as pas de l argent tu es presque mort...la vie est tres dificile qu au maroc je crois...et les gens en europe perdent vitement leurs consiences et doivent apprendre des pauvres marocains qui presente tjs de l hospitalite....merci isa...bye bye
re bonjour charif,
oui, l'esclavage existe en europe et le sort des gens de la rue en europe est un scandale, il y a les problemes de papiers avec les étrangers qui deviennent vite des esclaves, de plus beaucoup de personne ont un travail et n'arrive pas a avoir de logement,
mais ce n'est pas une majorité. j'aimerai rester au maroc et vivre ici mais parfois je perd espoir. tu vois mon mari il gagne a peine 200 euros (7/7 et pas de vacances comme tout les receptionniste des hotels de routards), donc pas de quoi se loger (200 euros un studio a tanger), et je connais plein de gens comme lui. les gars sur les chantiers, et tout cela tu dois le savoir si tu es marocain, ils bossent comme des fous pour 180 euros, 1800 diram, comment se logent ils, je me le demande. et pour les gens qui gagnent des smics, ca devient meme dure de se marier...donc on peu vivre avec peu, ben c'est ce qu'on fait en ce moment, on peut, oui, mais avec peu il vaut mieux ne pas tomber malade. donc c pareil si t'as pas d'argent tu meurt...en tout cas, de tout mon coeur j'espere que bientot je te dirais le contraire et que mon mari et moi on va continuer notre vie ici, inchallah. enfin voila mon point de vue et j'espere me tromper.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
aziz me laisse avec le minimum pour ne pas m'encombrer : 10 diram pour l'entree, 1 diram pour le savon noir et ma serviette que je n'aurais qu'as laisser avec mon sac au vestiaire.
il entre chez les homme. intimidée j'entre chez les femmes, c'est la premiere fois que je vais au hamam.
la femme de l'entrée me parle, me crie meme dessus en arabe. "ma fahemt, je ne comprend pas lala, arabia walou"
une femme me traduit "elle veut pas que tu viennes, elle dit que ca va fermer"
je sors vite fait mais aziz est déjà entrer chez les hommes. je vois une femme qui arrive, paye et entre. je reve !!! donc je rentre de force, je vais pas attendre dehors, il caille, je file 10 diram à la dame à l'entrée.
au vestiaire une autre dame me crie dessus. "ma hahemt, je ne comme pas lala, arabia walou"
une femme me traduit "elle veut des sous pour le vestiaire". je lui donne mon diram tant pis pour le savon. elle crie toujours. "ma fahemt, je ne comprend pas lala, arabia walou".
on me traduit "elle veut plus". ben elle aura pas, mon mari m'a dit que c'était gratuit.
je lui laisse mon sac. je rentre. je vois que toutes les femmes ont des sceaux. je vais demander un sceaux avec mes mains aux dames de l'entrée. elle ne veulent pas comprendre le langage des mains. j'enrage. "traduit lui que si elle ne me donne pas de sceaux je vais la tuer".
une autre dame prend pitié et rammasse un sceau par terre.
comment ca marche ici ? je suis perdue. encore d'autres dame me crient dessus. j'en peu plus "je comprend rien espece de grosse vache a poil laisse moi tranquille"
une grosse dame vient et me masse le dos "la choukron, ma andish flous". elle insiste, me masse le dos de force, veux de l'argent. "mais putain, c'est un viol, ca, lache moi, j'aime pas qu'on me touche". elle continue, je la pousse violement, elle rigole...
j'en peux plus. je prend de l'eau. une femme me crie dessus. je ne lache pas. "quelqu'un peu me traduire" finalement la dame voit que je ne lache pas et me dit dans un français parfait "il faut pas prendre de l'eau directement avec ton sceau, c'est sale, il faut utiliser ce récipient"..."ben merci de l'expliquer avec autant de miséricorde"...
les pestes.
quelques minutes plus tard, ca recommence. "ma fahemt, mais je veux comprendre, vas y recommence doucement". Dans un français parfait "fait attention tu m'éclabousse j'ai fait mes abblutions et je suis pure" " tu ne vas pas perdre tes abblutions tu es toute mouillée" "oui mais je vais faire ma priere en sortant" "tu sais le plus dure à purifier c'est le coeur, et là je vois que tu es mal barrée" et la comble de la finnesse elle me répond "oui, je sais ma mere vient de faire une crise cardiaque"...je ne parlais pas de son coeur de sang et de chair, mais laisse tombé, on n'a pas le meme hal...j'abandonne...
je sors, pas du tout détendu. je regarde toutes les grosses dames qui m'ont pourrie enfiler une djelabah, et comble de l'hypocrisie un voile sur la tete et un voile sur le nez comme si elles étaient de bonnes croyantes.
aziz arrive tout zen "c'est génial chérie le hammam, n'est ce pas ? un moment de paix, de sérénité et de solidarité entre les hommes"...
je fond en larme de colére, "je déteste les femmes, ne leur donnez pas de pouvoir, surtout ne leur donnez pas l'égalité social elles vont déclencher une guerre civile"
Depuis je prend des cours d'arabe dialectale et continue d'aller au hamam avec un neud dans le ventre parfois, et a chaque fois je regarde d'un oeil amusé les bagares éclatées. J¨'apprend l'arabe, je découvre la complexité de la société marocaine, Et à chaque fois mon mari sort apaisé rassuré sur la nature humaine...
moralité : mesdames n'allez pas au hamam seules, messieurs ne loupez pas le hamam.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Salam Alaikoum
c est vraie c est dur de vivre avec 200 euro, faire des petits et avoir un foyer...mais je te dit qu ily a beaucoup des marocains qui vivent de moins de 200euro..le smics au maroc est 1800, 00dhs mais pas 7/7, 40 heures par semaines et un conge d un mois par annee..mais comme il y a des couchons-Boss-qui faient l esclavage -que Dieu les brules-ca peut toucher les uns ou les autres
Apropos, n esiter pas de faire un foyer a tanger ..prochainement tanger va voir une exploration des prix..tous les richards, commercant et negociants visent tanger..et les prix d ici la 3 ans au maximum vont devenir presque comme Marrakech...?
Penser a acheter un lots ou bien un appartement...et je propose d essayer de trouver un travail..pour vous ca sera facile comme europeenne et a tanger sa bouge un peu ou bien faire un saut vers Marrakech ..tu trouveras certainement un travail et sourtout avec les entreprises francaises ou dans le domaines touristique...il y a plusieurs organisations francaises qui aident les francais qui vient de s installer au Maroc...bon courage isa....salam Alaikoum
merci izanora
tu m'as rapeller de bons moments !
ton recit m'a fait rajeunir .
mais moi je suis rentré enfrance aprés mon mariage a cause des problémes de travail
mais j'ai 1 amie qui s'est mariée elle aussi avec 1 marocain, ils sont restés au maroc .
ils ont pu acheter 1 petite maison dans 1 village qu'ils transforme en chambres d'hotes,
ce n'est pas facile, mais vous etes jeunes !!
je te souhaite plein de bonheur,
francia
le mérite d'un homme réside dans sa connaissance et dans ses actes et non point dans la couleur de sa peau ou de sa religion!
Khalil Gibran
merci chariff, les cochons de boss comme tu dis, nous on a surnomé le patron du palace abou lahab...m'enfin...sinon je sens bien en effet que Tanger est en plein effervecence, que quelque chose va se passer ici, je ne sais quoi, mais du coup j'ai envie de rester...a bientot.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
coucou anne, mon prénom izanora est un surnom pour voyage forum, un mélange entre mon prénom isabelle et le prénom nora. donc je te dit a peut etre bientot à Tanger.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
merci francia, ca me donne de l'espoir...disons qu'on a une chance sur deux de rester au maroc...allahmoradallah, j'arrette de me prendre la tete et je me laisse porter par les flots...
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Hehe..hehe..aboulahab ..super..c est vraie comme ca ou bien encore mieux Faraoune...ou bien Isa, tu peux faire des saut provisoirement en france si tu aura de logement chez tafamille et travailler qq mois en economisant pour aider uo bien ameliorer ta situation familiale...moi aussi je vise tanger pour acheter un appartement in schaaAllan...merci
Hey isa...tres bonne histoire de hammam...c est vraie que la dame donne de bakchich pour entrer au hamman..eh, je crois pas ca..je l ais jamais remarquer ca..je suis presque tjs le dernier qui rentre et je ditje veut soulement faire une douche c.a.d seulement le savon...je paye 8 dirhams et le mec qui garde les sacs me donne du savon noir (Saboun el beldi) Et a la sortie je lui donne 2 dirhams(30 ou 40 centimes du saboun comme ca..il y apas de regle au hamman, dans les 8 dirhans, la garde des vetements est inclu normalement mais on donne tjs qq dirhams...et uoi bien voila Isa c est une bonne histoire de ta premiere fois au Hammam...bye
C'était fin juillet. Je me souviens qu'Abdelghani m'a attendu plusieurs heures à l'aéroport avec une pancarte "Isabelle", puis il m'a déposé à un hotel. Il m'a dit si tu veux Asma va venir te voir à 19h et vous vous baladerez.
J'étais ravie. Je me souviens que je venais d'arrêter de fumer et que le cendrier de l'hotel flandria me disait fume, fume.
Je me souviens que l'hotel flandria, même avec 50 pourcent de réduction était au dessus de mes moyens.
Avec Asma nous avons remonter le grand boulevard en se racontant nos vies. J'étais heureuse de faire sa connaissance, et c'était réciproque.
Comme nous sommes passés devant la place des canons, avec sa vue plongeante sur la baie tangéroise, l'Espagne à l'horizon, ses cafés, sa végétation, la médina à gauche, je suis tombée amoureuse. Je me suis dit je pourrais vivre ici.
Je ne savais pas à ce moment là que quelques mois aprés dans l'hivert tangerois je prendrais mes petits déjeuners sur cette place. L'hivert il y a de la brume, la mer est grise, bleu, argentée et on ne distingue pas la brume, de la mer, ni la brume du ciel. On a alors l'impression que les gros ferry qui sont une attraction à Tanger volent dans le ciel.
Quand nous sommes arrivés a sook barra, cette grande place ovale, avec sa porte de la medina, son sook, sa mosquée, le cinéma riff, le tribunal et son jardin abritant un arbre caoutchou géant, quelques batiments années 50 et au centre sa grande fontaine, j'étais fichue. Définitivement amoureuse de Tanger. Rare sont les villes m'ayant fait cet effet, une effet indescriptible comme si la belle Tanger cachait sous son manteau un mystérieux trésors gardés par des marins, des contrebandiers et des aristocrates.
Nous sommes posés à l'hotel continental, un hotel arisokitch pour un thé agrémenté de longues discutions en regardant l'activité portuaire.
Asma et son mari Amza sont devenus touristes avec moi, et nous sommes partis à la rencontre du palais du roi, des tombeaux sacrés, des sook, de la casba, de la grotte d'hercule à cheval entre l'altantique et la méditérannée et nos journée se succédaient dans la joie et l'amitié. De nous on aurait pu citer ce haddith : "le prophete à envier les croyants et les croyantes qui s'aiment en Dieu". A chaque nous nous rencontrions, la présence tombait du ciel. J'ai fait connaissance de leurs amis Habib et de sa femme Fatiha. Ensemble nous avons mangés une bissara (soupe de pois) et des brochette de viandes dans un café perché sur une colline, entouré de foret. C'était le bonheur estival.
Entre temps j'ai éssayé plusieurs hotel toujours moins cher pour attérir finalement au palace hotel, un palace qui répondait à tout ce que j'attendais pour me poser et plus, tellement plus.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Enfin les journées ralongent et chaque jour on peut éspèrer que le temps sera meilleur et surtout moins humide. C'est donc une sorte de primtemps et dans l'hotel palace, cela se voit, il se passe plein de choses en ce moment, des choses plus ou moins roses, plus ou moins joyeuses, témoin de la vie et de sa dureté.
Dans le style l'assomoir de Zola
Il y a ces quattres jeunes filles au visages un peu dur, au look banlieu parisienne mais elles sont cent pourcent d'ici au Maroc. On les a placé dans une chambre tout au fond de l'hotel tellement elles sont bruyantes. On se croirait au hamam quand on s'approche de leur ante. Elles attendent un fausse carte de résidentes espagnoles pour aller récolter en Espagne. En attendant elles n'ont plus d'argent, alors elles s'amusent avec Ahmed le receptionniste...et pour 100 diram, 10 euros elles font des galipettes avec leur nouveau pote. Menali une client permanent s'est incrusté dans leur jeux, au début elles voulaient pas, c'est qu'il est pas trés beau le menali avec ses chicots pourris...mais finalement appat du gain facile. Je me demande quel sera leur choix en Espagne entre une journée dans les champs payés au rabait et un petit coup vite fait, qui leur rapportera pour le coup des euros plus qu'elles n'en espéraient.
Il y a cette dame, trés jolie, sa soeur et sa fillette de 12 ans. Une ado bizzare qui se tortille dans tous les sens quand elle parle. La gamine vient de fuguer, et moi je l'ai vu dans la rue se promener avec un client de l'hotel d'au moins 20 ans son ainé. Mon mari a balancé la sauce à la maman en panique. La maman n'a pas encore prévenu le papa. C'est qu'elle n'est que la deuxiéme épouse d'un homme qui l'a envoyé à l'hotel le temps de faire de travaux de peinture dans la maison, et qui sait de profiter de sa premiere épouse en monogame.
Il y a une autre gamine, qui attend d'aller en Espagne rejoindre son mari qui l'attend, et comme elle n'arrive pas a avoir de visa bien que mariée elle compte clandestiner. Elle ne mange pas à sa faim en attendant et franchement je soupçonne son mari agé de 40 ans (elle en a a peine de 20) de l'avoir épousé pour pourvoir la culbuter.
Dans le moins sordide,
Il y a ces clients qui prient dans le couloir au lieu de prier discretement dans leur chambre comme s'ils voulaient nous rassurer sur leur pieuseté. Mais à chaque fois, moi il me font peur, j'ai peur de leur marcher dessus, de leur passer devant.
Il y a quelques jeunes hommes qui écoutent de la musique toute la journée dans leur chambrette pas cher et sans fenetre, en fumant des clopes.
Il y a Ahmed, un prof de francais sans travail de prof, il vient de Meknes pour travailler dans un centre d'appel. Bientot il vous appellera pour vous vendre des forfait sfr, se présentera en tant que Michel Smith et vous jureras si vous lui demandez qu'il n'est pas au Maroc, mais en France et qu'il est anglais d'ou son accent. Mais franchement vous reconnaitrez son accent. Il vous promettera de vous vendre le meilleure des articles du monde, du super top. Il est super motivé et cherche sur internet des cours de marketting.
Il y a ce viel anglais voyageur permanent entre son angleterre et son maroc, qui attérit souvent au palace, se vante de trouver des billet aller retour a 45 euros au lieu de 300 euros avant, il remercie toujours l'acceuil chaleureux des receptionnistes, mais ne laisse jamais de pourboire.
Il y a Jacquelyne, retraité en voyage permanent qui laisse des pourboires, elle et du cappucino à chacun de ses passages.
Il y a des baba cool qui fument du hashih avec Mohamed, un client permanent qui vend à la tirette des conneries au touriste "muy barato, muy barato". Et comme en ce moment y a pas beaucoup de touristes Mohamed passe sa journée à nous préparer des bons tagines.
Il y a Aicha (aicha c'est moi) et Aziz qui chante du sama en cuisinant, observateurs impuissants de la misere humaine.
Et il y a toujours les oiseaux, les chats, les belles caligraphie sur les murs, le jardin intérieur, quelques japonais, les volontaires espagnoles qui bossent dans l'hopital psychiatrique d'en face tenu par des pretres de la pénisules, Zambrotta qui taxe des tunes devant l'hotel, et cette présence qui nous suit comme un oeil bienveillant au dessus de nos tête, comme un oiseau...
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
C'est l'histoire d'aller retour incessant entre l'adoul (une sorte de notaire sois disant un religieux qui enregistre les mariages), la waliya (la mairie), le tribunal, la préfécture, la police du quartier et d'autres administration dont les noms m'ont échappé et ou à chaque fois régne en maitre le chaos.
Ca commence par une liste de documents à fournir pour faire un mariage franco marocain, pas moins de 14 documents pour les quelles ils faut parfois des dizaines d'autres documents pour les obtenirs.
Une fois obtenue les documents le chauchemard commence, l'adoul veut des sous, le fontionnaire du tribunal veut des sous, les autres fonctionnaires veulent aussi des sous, "sinon ça risque d'être long". Trés vite on comprend qu'il ne faut surtout pas leur donner des sous, sinon c'est encore plus long, car tant qu'on peut te gratter des sous on ne te lache pas...et en plus c'est illegal ça la corruption dans la religion, heureusement qu'on est dans un pays musulman.
Le plus gore à été l'enquete de police à la prefecture. J'avais l'impression d'entrer dans le bureau d'une gestapo. Ca fume clope sur clope et au lieu d'enqueter au service de la vérité, les enquetes se font au service des pots de vins à gratter.
Nous on veut juste se marier parcequ'on s'aime on veut pas devenir président de l'amérique...mais si le fonctionnaire de police, celui avec les paupieres qui lui tombe sur les yeux tellement il a vu des choses qu'il aurait pas voulu voir il se dit : si je prouve qu'il couche ensemble avant le mariage, alors je peux leur compliquer la tache pour se marier et peut etre qu'il me fileront des milliers d'euros pour ne pas que j'envoie le promis en détention pour proxenetisme et la promise pour prostitution.
J'ai souvenir aussi de la secretaire du quaid. Tout le monde attend le quaid car ici c'est le principe maximale de de la pyramide, les actes les plus banaux doivent etre contre signé par le qaid et il est toujours en balade. Sa secretaire est assise dans une petite piece ou l'ampoule a griller, mais comme personne n'est payé pour la changé, alors elle reste sans lumiere. Assise comme un arbre sur un pot, elle attend. Elle ne sait pas quand revient le qaid. Elle est payé pour ca, ne pas savoir, ne pas voir, et les gens attendent. Souvent ils ont peur de gueuler.
Moi je suis française, donc j'ai l'habitude de raler aprés les fonctionnaires. Du coup Aziz ça l'inquiete et il ne me laisse au cyber café quand il va faire les démarches. Il fait des démarches et moi je fait des carnets de voyages. Chacun sa mission.
Donc dans la petite waliya du quaid il y a deux espions. ces deux la, je vous jure, il marche toute la journée cherchant qui taxer, quoi rapporter. Leur travail tout savoir sur tout le monde.
L'un d'eux vient et demande a mon mari "on nous demande de donner ton avis sur toi, mais comment on peut savoir que t'es quelqu'un de bien"...je ne peux m'empecher de lacher "parcequ'on va pas te donner d'argent pour que tu le dise et qu'on va te laisser faire ton travail d'espion"...
Bon allez je vous laisse, je vais manger chez darma une association communautaires de femmes crées par des missionnaires...il y a une petite tarte au citron bonne comme celle de maman et un couscous bon comme celui de la maman d'Aziz, du coup tout le monde est content.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Pour completer, je vais te raconter en direct comment je me suis fait voler hier le contenue de mon portefeuille, tout en douceur, ou presque.
Assise sur un banc de ma place préférée, la place du 9 avril, je fume une clope, histoire d'ennuyer les hypocrites...je ne vais pas fumer en cachette quand meme au pretexte que je suis une femme alors que Dieu voit tout.
Donc un mec arrive. Il me propose des portes feuilles en cuir de chameaux. je souris car Mohamed, un des clients permanents de l'hotel fait le meme boulot, la vente sauvage au près des touristes.
Tu sais combien ca, dit il en me vantant la marchandise, 10 dirams.
la je doit bien reconnaitre que c pas cher, et je me dit que ca ferait un beau kdo pour mon ami alawi.
En l'espace de 2 secondes, le prix passe à 1 euros, puis à 5 dirams.
Je sors mon porte monaie pour attraper 5 dirams. Pendant ce temps il met le porte feuille en cuir de chameux sur mon porte monaie, et subtilement, sans que je vois rien, attrappe tous les billets qui s'y trouvent.
En meme temps arrive son cousin, meme tête, il me taxe des tunes assez sauvagement, me taxe un clope...Les deux parlent en meme temps et là bizarement je me sens un peu agréssée et me mets à crier "la la, mais laissez moi tranquille !"
Mister portefeuille en cuir de chameau pars avec les 5 dirams : il me dit, "para comer"...ok, je me dis "tant pis, de toute facon le porte feuille n'était pas si beau"...ils partent...je m'en vais au cyber café et au moment de payer, misere je m'aperçois que je n'ai plus que quelques piecettes dans mon porte feuille.
voili, voila, tanger danger à encore une fois honorée sa réputation.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
La nuit est tombée dans les ruelles tangéroise. Un vent léger comme un souffle fait s'agiter doucement le drapeau des mosquées, le linge qui flotte sur les terrasses, il est semblable une caresse sur nos cheveux...quelle douceur. Le vent me donne une ame de poéte, "ce vent mon amour il est le souffle de Taha, il est miséricorde". Aziz acquiesque, lui non plus ne se souvient pas d'avoir déjà ressenti pareille brise "peut pendant mon enfance à Bénitajid". "Ah oui, moi aussi je me souviens de ce vent, quand enfant à l'automne je jouait dans le jardin de mes parents à la nuit tombante". Sur le toit du palace hotel nous regardons le vent. je me souviens les paroles du cheik Khaled "Dieu est partout, il est dans l'alignement des arbres..." Ce soir il est dans ce vent. Avec le vent descend une présence, une paix. C'est incroyable. Cette présence est semblable à celle qui suit la nuit sacrée du destin, quand aprés des heures de prieres, les croyants rentrent chez eux dans la douceur d'une nuit bénie. Nous ouvrons grand la fenetre de la chambre comme pour inviter le souffle de Taha à nous bercer cette nuit. Plus tard nous apprenons que la terre à tremblé ce soir à Tanger et nous comprenons. Dieu aurait pu encore une fois détruire toute la création, mais il n'a pas resséré sa main, ce vent est témoin de sa miséricorde. Les petits tremblements de terre évitent les grands tremblement de terre. La brise améne la pluie, cette pluie que depuis des mois les priants demandent à la mosquée tous les vendredi. Depuis il pleut. Mais c'est une pluie toute douce, une pluie qui ne mouille presque pas mais arrose tous. Enfin la pluie tant attendue. La brise est toujours là, elle accompagne la pluie et à chaque fois que nous prenons conscience de la brise, nous prenons conscience de la présence divine. Est-ce la brise qui est porteuse d'espérance ou serais ce nos conscience qui se sont elevées ? Je ne saurais dire. Une majdouba à prédit que Tanger connaitrait des boulversement exceptionnelles et bienfaisants entre 2008 et 2010. L'expo unverselle en sera-t-elle un vesteur ? Moi je veux croire que cette brise est l'annonce de cette paix prédits pour Tanger.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Merci Izanora pour ces morceaux de vie que tu partages avec nous
Il ne fait aucun doute qu'il existe un monde invisible. Cependant, il est permis de se demander à quelle distance il se trouve du centre-ville et jusqu'à quelle heure il est ouvert (W. Allen)
Hier soir nous sommes allée au Hamamm de val fleury, mieux, plus propre, moins chaud, moins de mégères, le savon noir est à 50 centimes de diram au lieu d'un diram, et la dame du vestiaire est souriante. Au hamam une dame à eu une grosse envie de chier et sous mes yeux ahuris elle à fait caca dans un sceau collectif. C'est décidé je vais acheter mon sceau perso.
Ce matin, j'ai posté une lettre à mamie, et comme d'habitude j'ai demandé à ce qu'on mette le tampon immédiatement, expliquant que sinon les lettres n'arrivaient pas. Le personnel de la poste à feind de ne pas être au courant, et encore une fois il a fallu que ce soit la directrice qui se déplace pour me mettre le coup de tampon. Décidémment les marcocains ne savent pas délégués les responsabilités et ne sont pas prêt de passer du management pyramidale au management par le cercle.
C'est vraimment le primptemps maintenant, la mer est belle comme un soleil bleu et le ciel brille comme un bijoux doré. Il est venu avec un mois d'avance le primptemps. Dans la route on croise des touristes européens en tee shirt, nous on n'ose pas encore enlever les manteaux. C'est que nous sortons de plusieurs mois de froid humide sans chauffage, avec nul autre moyen que le hamam pour se réchauffer. Au mois de décembre janvier quand on se couchait dans le lit, on sentait les ressort gélés du matelas...alors enlever les manteau c'est pas pour demain.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Voici quelques photos datant de l'époque ou mon numérique fonctionnait :
légende des photos dans l'ordre : tanger la place du 9 avril, la meme place, aziz et isa et la chevre de leur mariage, isa dans un petit village, le jardin à l'interieur du palace, les mariés sur un tapis berbere.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Merci pour les photos 🙂 Le petit jardin intérieur est comme je me l'imaginais.
Il ne fait aucun doute qu'il existe un monde invisible. Cependant, il est permis de se demander à quelle distance il se trouve du centre-ville et jusqu'à quelle heure il est ouvert (W. Allen)
BONJOUR IZANORA Merci pour tes récits, tu nous fait rêver un peu. les photos sont superbes, c'est un peu comme je l'imaginais et j'ai aussi reconnu la chemise à carreaux d'Aziz.continue à nous faire partager ton quotidien au palace, de nous emmener au hammam, j'adore !!!
Merci Framboise, un message de framboise c'est du bonheur...pas comme les messages d'o...lol
Il en faut peu pour être heureux, un brin de soleil, une brise, des yeux pour regarder l'harmonie des couleurs, des oreilles pour entendre les oiseaux au reveil...
Les femmes de la chambre 16 (celle dont la gamine deux fois fugueuse est à chaque fois rattrapé par la maman et la tante desespérées) semblent devenir une cliente permanente.
Pareille pour les quattres ados qui à mon avis se sont fait carrote leur 4000 euros pour aller en Espagne récolter des fruits avec une fausse carte de résident.
Du coup les femmes ont sympathisées et investie l'espace : ce vendredi elles font un grand ménage, sortent les tables de leur chambre, installe des cartons par terre dans le couloir et s'active à préparer le couscous du vendredi...Il régne un air de fête ce vendredi devant la chambre chaise, au dessus du jardin intérieur.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
La technique du khol pour envouter votre prince charmant :
En mettre une grande quantité le soir avant de dormir, passer le baton sous les paupiéres supérieures et inférieures, et déssiner généreusement une ligne à l'extérieur des paupieres supérieures et inférieurs. N'oubliez pas l'extrémité intérieure et intérieure dezs yeux. N'hésitez pas à forcer sur le trait, à l'allongé, le prolongez...Soyez généreuse avec vous même.
Dormez...
Réveillez vous, c'est tout naturelle, ça fait briller les yeux, et ça donne naturellement de grands yeux de gazelle.
Prochainement : le mode d'emploi du hamam et le petit truc en plus pour garder une peau toute douce toute la semaine, pour régaler votre prince charmant.
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Dolma, tu me demandes de t'expliquer l'amour de l'amour...l'amour de l'amour ça à l'air compliquer mais en réalité c'est plus simple que l'amour. C'est aimé en ayant conscience que dans le jeux amoureux nous sommes en présence nous pas de deux mais de trois : l'Amour, l'amant et le bien aimé
C'est un peu comme si tu passes un degré, comme si tu transcende l'amour du bien aimé. L'amour, il se nourrit de l'amour et il peut grandir infiniment...l'amour est insatiable, jamais satisfait, il n'a pas de fin. Plus je t'aime, plus tu m'aimes, plus je te désire, plus tu me désires...l'amour et le désir, un couple c'est pour moi trouver un équilibre entre les deux, une complémentarité du féminin et du masculin dans cet équilibre.
L'amour de l'amour, c'est comme une présence qui descend du ciel, cette présence c'est l'Amour, aimer cette présence, c'est aimer l'amour, aimer l'amour de l'amour.
Pour illustrer mes propos imagine la pluie tombant sur tes cheveux (ou autre chose pourvu que vous soyez trois ou plutot, peut etre, deux et Un) : il y a la pluie, il y a l'effet de la pluie tombant sur tes cheveux, et il y a quelque chose, comme une conscience peut etre, qui regarde la pluie tomber sur tes cheveux, et qui voit, qui sait que c'est la pluie qui tombe sur tes cheveux...
Ou encore pour rester dans le théme du voyage, il y a le voyage, l'effet qu'il a sur toi, et toi qui regarde l'effet que le voyage à sur toi...Cette présence qui peut descendre quand tu trouves une harmonie dans le voyage c'est encore l'amour de l'amour du voyage. Car qui aime ? Est-ce-toi qui aime le voyage, ou est-ce le voyage qui t'aime...me concernant, je ne saurais dire, car je ne sais plus rien maintenant que mon regard s'inverse sous les vagues de mon délire d'amour.
"Je t'aime de l'amour que le Un à pour le deux..." cet extrait d'un poéme d'Ibn Arabie (traité de l'amour) pourrait illustrer mes propos...
"J'étais un trésor caché, et J'ai voulu me faire connaitre, alors J'ai crée le monde et les créatures pour qu'ils me connaissent et qu'ils m'aiment" (hadith qudsi)...Ce trésor caché, c'est peut être bien l'amour, et ce hadith est peut être bien une clé de la Connaissance de l'amour.
encore un exemple tirer des tes propos "un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage", on pourrait dire que c'est le voyage qui vient à toi par le chemin et la caresse du vent...
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Merci d'avoir pris de ton temps pour cette longue explication qui me fait dire "bonté divine"... Oui, c'est ce qui me vient à l'esprit en te lisant ; il se pourrait bien que je sois quelque peu hermétique à tout ça...
Je ne me moque pas Izanora, je respecte tes idées et je te souhaite d'avoir fait le bon choix.
Dolma
Je précise juste un truc : en amour je préfère 1+1=2 à 1+1=3 🙂 !
un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage...
comme c'est beau Izanora,
l'amour a ce point la, c'est de la passion, est ce que ça s'appelle l' Agapé, je cherche dans le dictionnaire !!!
en tout cas j'ai ressenti il ya 10 ans la meme chose que toi, ça a duré tres longtemps et il en reste une enorme tendresse et de
merveilleux souvenirs, mais en effet il faut penser que 1 + 1 peuvent etre egal a 3 ou 4 ou plus !!!
continu ton récit ça fait du bien,
je retoune au Maroc en avril, mais je vais dans le sud sinon je serais passé te dire 1 petit bonjour !
1 autre fois peut etre!
francia
le mérite d'un homme réside dans sa connaissance et dans ses actes et non point dans la couleur de sa peau ou de sa religion!
Khalil Gibran
bonjour Izanora
Je viens tout juste de rejoindre voyageforum et de m'inscrire. Ton histoire est merveilleuse et tes photos magnifiques. L'amour est une force, un roc qui permet de réaliser de grandes choses et toi tu as fait le bon choix en suivant ton coeur. Continues à nous raconter ton journal car il réchauffe les coeurs de ceux qui croient encore à la vie et à l'amour. Je connais peu Tanger sauf pour y être passé lors de mes voyages. Je suis plus proche de KENITRA et notamment de RABAT, mais je sais que Tanger est une belle ville, riche d'histoires et à mon prochain voyage je ne manquerai pas de m'y attarder.
merci francia...ben si ca se trouve on se croisera dans le sud, car nous coutons rendre visite à la famille d'Aziz, dans son village du moyen atlas à l'occasion de la fete du mouloud...
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
croire à la vie et à l'amour, ah oui il faut y croire plus que jamais, meme si les temps n'y sont pas propice, justement parceque les temps n'y sont pas propice, parceque c'est quand l'amour manque que la moindre vibration d'amour aquiert plus d'Acuité. Merci pour ton message qui me pousse a me surpassé moi meme dans ma quete de l'Amour...
et oui Tanger est vraimment une trés belle ville, un souffle de mystere la traverse, a Tanger on est comme en suspenct, en attente de quelque chose de merveilleux et d'étrange...pourquoi je ne serais le dire, pas plus que ceux qui ont perçut cela, mais on l'a vu, il y a quelque chose à Tanger, la question pourrait être quoi, et devenir un jeux rigolo...Quel smilblik se cache à Tanger, mais qui connait la réponse ?
"La liberté de la graine réside dans l'accomplissement de sa nature qui est de devenir un arbre"
Rabindranath Tagora
Une expert comptable pour qui 1+1=pas tjrs 2 et qui s'emmêle les pinceaux, moi je dis "y a un truc" 😛 !
Si tu veux, pour te changer des doigts de pieds en éventail, je t'emmène avec moi à la recherche du vent, tu sais, tout là-bas, où vivent les gens d'en haut et les gens d'en bas........ 🙂
Dolma
"Il faut rire avant que d'être heureux de peur de mourir sans avoir ri" ...
La Bruyère
un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage...
bonjour, izanora, je me permets de prendre de tes nouvelles . je suis un peu inquiète de ne plus lire ton journal, j'espère que tu vas bien ainsi que Aziz. donnes nous de tes nouvelles ..... A BIENTOT
Tanger: 14 kilomètres des côtes espagnoles, le détroit de Gibraltar, un lieu de passage, de trafic, Matisse, Kerouac... Je ne parvenais pas à mettre des images…
Et bien voilà, je suis de retour d'une semaine passée à Marrakech. Avant le voyage, j'avais pu lire beaucoup de choses - que ce soit sur internet, mais surtout…
C'est mon deuxième carnet de voyage, la première faisait suite à une croisière ici c'est un circuit en voiture pour un périple à travers une partie du Maroc.…
De la soupe de pois chiches du café Hafa aux cocktails de fruits du El Minzah (1) Tanger, ville des paradoxes, explose sous les projets pharaoniques de M6…
Je débute un nouveau carnet de voyage de mon dernier séjour qui m'a amené des 2 capitales du Maroc (l'économique Casablanca et l'administrative Rabat)…
"So, my little wanderers, back at the decks? What’s this mystery destination you’ve got in store for us at the start of the year?"
Yes, the schoolyard bell’s ringing again! We’re hitting the road... or rather, the skies! At first glance, our destination might surprise more than a few. First off, simply because I was here exactly twenty years ago, and I don’t usually like retracing my own footsteps. Secondly, because the name of this place screams mass tourism—basically the opposite of what Flo and I look for.
Despite that, in this land of backsheesh, I’d promised myself I’d come back one day to experience it my way. And since Flo told me, during our wanderer chats, that this destination straddling Africa and the Middle East was in her top 2 travel dreams, the stars aligned for this roots-style trip to quickly make it onto our pharaonic festivities program! Unless you’re totally clueless in general knowledge, you’ve probably guessed by now—we’re off to Egypt! Of course, a few classics will be on our itinerary, but above all, we want to soak up a culture that can’t be appreciated in four-star resorts or on a Nile cruise boat. And let’s be clear, these next two weeks won’t be a walk in the park—neither for our two daughters who are joining us, nor for our bodies!
And that’s clear from the get-go: after our first flight, eight hours of trying (and failing) to sleep on Milan airport’s metal seats, our second flight, landing, passport stamps, our Uber ride, and our first Cairo kilometers, we finally drop our exhaustion at the little guesthouse we booked in Giza. Doesn’t all that energy deserve a little reward?
Oh, absolutely! And here it is: a full-on slap in the face for everyone! But just look at this view from our hotel terrace? For 20 € a night for four, even with this incredible view, I figured the room must be pretty shabby, right? Nope... Is the staff rude, then? Nope... Okay, so what’s the catch? You’re gonna tell me breakfast is included too? Well, yes! Honestly, this Egypt trip is off to a great start.
And the rest of the afternoon, spent rubbing shoulders with locals, only confirmed this vibe. After digesting our pyramid view, we dove into the hustle and bustle of our neighborhood with the goal of exchanging money, eating at street stalls, and testing the hospitality of the locals. Ten out of ten!
Eight little sun breads with baba ganoush and falafel? 80 pounds, or 1.5 €. A dozen Middle Eastern pastries? Same! 80 pounds! Two hawawshis, those little pita breads stuffed with meat and spices? 10 pounds each, or about twenty cents! Not to mention all those smiles and free "welcomes" left and right!!!
What a welcome! We end this first day with a sunset over the three sisters of Giza—where we’ll obviously be gawking tomorrow...
It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather,
A season that only exists in the southwest of America,
I remember very well what I told you that morning
A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago...
We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...
Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!
To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"
As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...
I hope this travel journal might interest some people, but since we were completely self-sufficient (tent, sleeping bag, pot, cooking over a wood fire…) almost every day, I don’t have many hotel addresses or great restaurant tips to share! Sorry!
We used the Maio map at 1:50,000 scale. It’s part of the Boa Vista/Sal/Maio map. Bought on Amazon, but currently unavailable as of the latest news.
The people of Maio are extremely welcoming and warm, and we were always more than well received in the villages where we pitched our tent!
We’re usually big hikers, but since Maio is a beach island (gorgeous ones, at that!), we alternated a few hours of walking in the morning with some relaxation in the afternoon: beach, reading, fishing, resting…
1 euro = 110 escudos
Day 1 (Friday) Transfers by plane: Fogo-Praia-Maio
We opted for the plane to save some time on transfers, as the boat connections between Fogo and Praia take a while, and those between Praia and Maio are almost nonexistent.
You should budget around 40-50 euros per flight per person.
There are 2 flights per week between Praia and Maio—on Tuesdays and Fridays when we were there (January 2016), but currently on Mondays and Fridays.
A bit of a delay leaving Praia, but we arrived on Maio without any problems around 4 PM.
We took an *aluguer* (shared transport, 200 escudos per person) to the center of Vila do Maio, but it’s totally doable on foot with a backpack.
Since it was already a bit late, for this first night, we dropped our bags at Big Game Maio. A standard European-style hotel run by a very nice Italian family. It’s a bit pricey for us (5500 escudos for 2 people with breakfast), but after our 2 weeks in a tent on Fogo, we were happy to find a little comfort. And the breakfast is ultra-generous, with fresh products (cured ham, fruit, cheese, bread) and top quality. The hotel restaurant offers dishes that are a clever mix of Italian and Cape Verdean cuisine. Excellent!
Little tip: We didn’t try it, but Big Game Maio offers big-game fishing trips, diving, and quad rentals.
The hotel is 2 minutes from Vila’s beautiful beach, and we went for a dip at sunset and took a stroll around town. They’re redeveloping the waterfront with pretty sidewalks and light stone walls.
Vila beach
Sunset behind Santiago
Day 2 (Saturday): rest day + fishing
After 2 weeks of hiking and since Vila is such a peaceful place where it’s nice to take your time, we decided to spend an extra day there. We took the path heading south along the coast to reach Ponta Preta beach in 20 minutes. The path isn’t very pretty because there’s quite a bit of construction going on, which prevents you from really walking along the shore. Lots of real estate agencies, especially Italian ones, have taken over the land. But Ponta Preta beach is a stunning black-sand beach where we had the whole place to ourselves. We decided to go fishing from the rocks.
At 1 PM, the sun was blazing, so we headed back to Vila and dried the fish for the following days.
At 6 PM, we went fishing again, but this time at night from the rocks at the end of Vila beach.
8:30 PM: back to shower and eat at the restaurant.
The rocks and sea at Ponta Preta
Day 3 (Sunday): from Vila do Maio to Calheta de Baixo, via Monte Batalha (path 101) Hiking time: 5h
Since there aren’t many “summits” on Maio, we decided to head to Calheta de Baixo but via Monte Batalha. We left at 8:20 AM and somehow made it to Monte Batalha by 11 AM (2h40 of hiking). But the path is really hard to find in the middle of the dry grass and acacia trees. We kind of cut through randomly, aiming for the summit. Even though it’s not very high (around 300 m), the view is amazing—you can see all of Maio at 360°!
Short 30-minute break. The descent through the “forest” of acacias is even worse for finding your way. We oriented ourselves a bit by the sun to find the road connecting Vila to Calheta. We arrived around 1:30 PM at Calheta de Baixo. A very pretty little seaside village with colorful houses. An idyllic beach, a newly renovated square, and super-friendly people. We pitched our tent facing the sea on the terrace of an abandoned house (after asking the locals for permission).
We cooked some of the dried fish we’d caught the day before, along with fresh beans we’d brought from Fogo (and were still carrying!).
At the summit of Monte Batalha
Calheta
Calheta de Baixo
Day 4 (Monday): From Calheta de Baixo to Morrinho on foot. Hiking time: 3h. Then hitching a bus to Cascabulho, and a car to Pedro Vaz.
We left around 9:30 AM heading north (path 201), following the coastline where the beaches just keep coming—each one wilder and more beautiful than the last: Praia de Soca, Calheta Braca, Ponta de Pau Seco, Calhetina. We reached the dunes of Baia de Santana. There’s no real path, so you have to follow the coast, then go around the dunes, and when you spot the 3 coconut trees, head east toward them to find the track leading to Morrinho. Again, we discovered a village with a Wild West vibe, with colorful houses lined up on either side of a paved road. Just enough time to accept a drink offered by a local before jumping onto the passing school bus that took us to Cascabulho. There, we waited for a ride. A political delegation of 10 cars drove right past us without stopping. Luckily, one of the cars had a flat tire and came by 30 minutes later—and that one, thankfully, gave us a lift! They were heading to the inauguration of a water pump in Pedro Vaz. So that’s where we stopped too. After getting permission from the school principal, we pitched our tent in front of the village school… and became the attraction for all the kids who kept us company until nightfall! A woman gave us 2 jugs of water, but with all that company, it was tough to take a peaceful shower!!
Dinner: pasta with beans.
We were woken up by rain during the night and had to rush to bring all our stuff inside the tent!
The beaches just keep coming...
The dunes
The 3 coconut trees, a landmark to find the track
Day 5 (Tuesday): Rest day and fishing at Boca da Ribeira beach
We packed up at 8 AM because the kids had school. We filled the 2 water jugs that the woman lent us and headed down to camp at Boca da Ribeira beach, which is a bit further east of Pedro Vaz. It took less than an hour to get there. This time, we really were alone in the world! We pitched the tent and spent the day fishing, reading, playing, and swimming regularly because the sun was beating down hard!!! We caught a nice fish that we grilled over the fire in the evening. With the crabs and shellfish we gathered, we made a seafood rice! Yum! What a feast!
That night, once the tent was zipped up, we felt something like rain on the tent fabric. I decided to go out and gather our things, and then—shock!!! It wasn’t raindrops we were feeling and hearing, but bugs attracted by the light!! Not just a few bugs—a huge swarm of them!!! Thousands of bugs covering the whole tent, the ropes, slipping into the seams and hems! Everywhere! The blue tent had turned green!!! After that, it was a real struggle to get back inside without letting any in! A real challenge, and there were always 3 or 4 that managed to sneak in anyway. Total war!!!
Boca da Ribeira beach
Day 6 (Wednesday): From Boca da Ribeira to Ribeira Dom João. Hiking time: 3h30
We woke up leisurely and waited for the sun to dry our things, damp from the dew. A man passed by, and we gave him the water jugs we’d borrowed, which saved us a trip back to Pedro Vaz to return them to the woman.
We left around 10 AM. We followed the sea to Alcatraz, then headed toward Pilão Cão. The path runs alongside the small hills on our right, and we passed above Lagoa Cimidor. The terrain is arid, and the path is hard to find among the many goat tracks.
After 3h30 of hiking, we reached Ribeira Dom João with 2 young people we’d met along the way.
Since it was a public holiday in Cape Verde, the kids didn’t have school, and with the principal’s permission, we pitched our tent in the kindergarten. She even kindly opened the school toilets for us. The neighbor gave us the water we needed to wash up and cook. We cooked beef steaks on charcoal. A nice change from fish!! Charcoal is a widespread artisanal product on the island. People almost never cook directly over wood but always with these big chunks of charcoal.
The hills on our right
Ribeira Dom João
Day 7 (Thursday): From Ribeira Dom João to Vila do Maio. Hiking time: 3h30
We woke up at 6:30 AM to clear out of the school by 8 AM. The neighbor made us coffee to save time. It took us 2 hours to reach Barreiro, another Wild West-style town! Since we didn’t want to walk on the road, we took the old track and reached Vila do Maio in 1h30.
Last night before taking the plane back to Praia the next day.
Barreiro
The old track
The church in Vila do Maio
That’s where this trip ends!
Maio is truly a magical island! A remote, isolated place with incredible, wild beaches and villages with a Wild West feel—colorful houses on either side of well-paved, well-maintained, and decorated streets. And the locals are so warm and welcoming.
Even for hikers like us, it was a great discovery, and we were able to alternate hiking and relaxation with great pleasure! Too bad the area around Vila do Maio is being overrun by real estate construction—ongoing, unfinished, abandoned…
Alright, this year, we're heading back to South America!
The initial plan was to retrace the route we imagined in the summer of 2020: a trip to northern Argentina starting from Córdoba.
Unfortunately, the flight to Córdoba no longer exists, and airfares to Javier Milei’s country are both outrageously priced and involve multiple layovers.
So, I tweaked Google Flights every which way and finally found a flight within my budget—departing from Clermont-Ferrand!
Not to Argentina, though...
Our transatlantic flight will cross the snow-capped Andes, landing in Santiago, Chile, with a return from Lima!
In between, two domestic flights and a big road trip loop starting from the coastal city of Arica to explore the treasures of northern Chile.
Our mode of transport: a pseudo 4x4 that won’t take us through sand dunes or devilish tracks but will let us tackle the entire secondary network, including unpaved main roads, while still being insured.
Is the suitcase packed with all-season clothes?
Are the driver’s license and passport ready?
Bank cards and a few euros too?
Off we go for just over 3 weeks of southern wanderings!
--/--
To keep all my esteemed readers on track, here are a few maps outlining the Arica-Arica loop!
1- From Arica to San Pedro de Atacama via Pica and the Salar de Huasco
2- Around San Pedro
3- From San Pedro to Cariquima
4- From Cariquima to Putre
5 - From Putre to Arica
Gas stations in this part of Chile are located in Arica, Iquique, Pozo Almonte, Pica, Calama, and San Pedro de Atacama.
Traveling with just one spare pair of underwear, considering a hot shower a miracle, never staying in the same place too long by sleeping wherever night catches us, taking whatever local, improbable, and rickety transport we can find—this is the DNA of us wanderers. Except this time, the script for our movie is going to be a whole different genre. On paper, the destination doesn’t exactly scream epic adventure: Réunion! And what’s more... we won’t be two, or four, or even ten. We’ll be a solid thirty. All from the same family. Yes, thirty. At this point, it’s not just a trip—it’s a summer camp on the move! Why inflict this on such a peaceful island? Because my brother decided to get married there with his lovely bride. A great idea, you might say... especially when it involves relocating the equivalent of a small Ardennes village 10,000 kilometers from home for three weeks! So who’s stepping up to be the guide and wave the little flag?
So, for an exceptional trip, exceptional stories! Don’t worry, the debates at the supermarket over whether to choose plain chips or roast chicken chips, the beach picnics washed down with ti’ punch, and other rougail sausages to digest by the pool will only make it into the family archives. Here, I’ll stick to the tales of our beautiful escapes, the ones where we explore the wild corners of this little volcanic rock planted in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So where exactly are we headed?
For the first week—the subject of this first installment—we’re taking it easy. We’ll start by rediscovering the coastline, from the Souffleur in Saint-Leu to the Hermitage lagoon, before a little trip to the Cirque de Cilaos and its legendary road with 400 turns, just to get our legs warmed up.
"How about a Christmas market this year, huh? A little romantic weekend getaway...
- Yes! That’d be cool! Strasbourg? Colmar?
- Feels a bit déjà vu, doesn’t it? Plus, slim chance of snow there... And I’d love something a bit more exotic with a touch of originality..."
"Okay, Google, give me the list of the five most beautiful Christmas markets in Europe.
- In fifth place, the Christmas market in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania.
- Save your breath! Lithuania, here we come!"
We wanted cold, and cold is exactly what we got the moment we set foot in this new, unknown land. As for landscapes, forests and lakes stretch as far as the eye can see across this vast plain, its vegetation scorched by the frost of a winter that’s clearly already well underway here.
Lakes, in fact, set the scene for our first visit to Trakai Castle, whose brick-red towers and walls rise proudly against the azure sky of our first day. Lakes, because this castle was built on an island and is only accessible on foot via a series of walkways spanning half-frozen lake offshoots. I couldn’t have picked a better spot to build my castle! Translation: We’re totally sold! Proof is we spend two hours hiking around the area, alternating between forests, reeds, and cozy houses tastefully decorated for Christmas.
Hi everyone, we're back from a DIY USA road trip we organized from July 31, 2026, to August 26, 2026.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say.
Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed...
Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.
It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.
We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂
At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe).
In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko.
I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip.
Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest.
The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days.
As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.
Transportation:
An ICOCA card is essential.
I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.
Accommodations:
Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.
Meals:
For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés.
For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen.
Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima.
Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima.
A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto.
Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi).
Tempura and gyoza.
Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal.
One omakase meal (9 different dishes).
In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef.
Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.
The Itinerary:
Day 1: Departure from Brussels
Day 2: Arrival in Osaka
Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki
Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi
Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido
Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima
Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade
Day 8: To Miyajima
Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto
Day 10: Southern Kyoto
Day 11: Northern Kyoto
Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa
Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago)
Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima)
Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto
Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko)
Day 17: To Tokyo
Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura
Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong
Day 20: Arrival in Brussels
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of three years at most in Thailand, and I’m not a big expert on the country.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to piece together a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who miss it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guards for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big property, be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t really made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though, are much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been broken for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the side of the road, sometimes right on the road. When you arrive, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, which reminds visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. Seeing a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you might think it’s best not to cross paths with them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at temples on the brink of death, enduring terrible suffering. No one did anything about it. The image (and the smell) of one of them, dying and emitting the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The well-fed animal quickly became a happy, enormous beast with its own garden. Yet, it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water in them for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not a gimmick—it’s just that these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”
This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...
Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.
Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!
La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.
Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.
Some practical info:
- The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side.
- We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €.
- The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen.
- Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day.
- Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.
Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!
If I close my eyes and think of the Sultanate of Oman, I first smell a light scent of incense, feel the warmth of a sunbeam on my skin, before sand slips through my fingers. I taste the sweetness of a date, a real candy, then the flavor of coffee with a hint of cardamom and rosewater... I hear the desert wind whistling in my ears, the distant call of a muezzin, then the murmur of water. I open my eyes to see smiles, welcoming gestures, a turquoise sea, rocks ranging from ochre to purple, deep wadis where torrents burst forth, orange dunes, white sandy beaches where tiny crabs scurry at full speed. I see incredible oases emerging between arid mountains. I see abandoned villages that I’d dream were full of life, imposing fortresses overlooking valleys, and lively souks where offers are delicate and negotiation is a mutual courtesy.
All that, and so much more.
This is what I tried to capture in my illustrated travel journal, which I’ll fill in here and there with photos.
I drew this journal “cold,” after my return (actually, I made it this summer, while our trip was last winter). It’s a pretty special format—I bought it in Japan without really knowing what I’d do with it. Well, it found its purpose! Below is a photo of this accordion-style journal: here, it’s only partially open, because when fully unfolded, it’s 5 meters long!
For drawing enthusiasts: The accordion format is both a constraint (each sheet is 9 cm x 27 cm) and a freedom (you can create a fresco). The paper is also a bit special: it doesn’t allow for fine lines, but it takes ink well (liner pen). However, everything has to be done almost in one go (with a very light pencil sketch) because it erases poorly. It absorbs too much water for coloring with markers or watercolors (unless you avoid soaking it), but it works well with oil pastels and their use with a brush and solvent. Since it’s yellowish, it allowed me to create contrasts even with white pastel.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Oman is one of the world’s largest producers of frankincense resin. Incense burners are everywhere, from the simplest clay ones to the most precious handcrafted silver ones...
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
My buddy Christian and I (Patrick) are off for 28 days in Argentina in March.
We’ve already shared several trips as a duo (Bolivia Peru, Namibia, Laos, Costa Rica).
Since we’re starting from the idea that at our age (65) we won’t be coming back here—there are just too many other corners of the world to discover—we did the "grand tour" of Argentina, with 6 domestic flights to make the most of our 28 days.
Here are our stops:
1) Departure from Brussels to Buenos Aires via Madrid
2) Arrival and first contact with Buenos Aires
3) Early morning flight to Ushuaia. Boat trip on the Beagle Channel
4) Ushuaia: hikes in Tierra del Fuego National Park
5) Ushuaia: last hike and flight to El Calafate
6) El Calafate to El Chaltén by bus. First hike
7) El Chaltén: hike
8) El Chaltén: hike
9) El Chaltén: hike and bus back to El Calafate
10) El Calafate: Perito Moreno Glacier
11) Flight to Bariloche. Car rental and surrounding areas
12) Seven Lakes Region
13) Nahuel Huapi National Park region
14) Flight to Salta. Car rental
15) To Tilcara
16) To Humahuaca
17) To Purmamarca
18) To Jujuy via the salt flats
19) To Cafayate
20) Around Cafayate
21) To Cachi
22) Back to Salta
23) Flight to Iguazu
24) Waterfalls on the Argentine side
25) Waterfalls on the Brazilian side and flight to Buenos Aires
26) Buenos Aires
27) Return flight
28) Morning arrival
Happy reading!..
We landed in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, and headed straight to Kasane in Botswana to pick up our car.
Our vehicle is a 4x4 because in Zambia, it's practically impossible to use anything else, especially in the national parks. I’ve already had the pleasure of visiting South Luangwa National Park—it’s one of the reasons for this trip, the main one being to travel in Africa with one of my sons.
First stop: Livingstone on the banks of the Zambezi River. Along the way, we discovered a lovely restaurant at Socrates with a super-friendly owner (we’ll actually stop there again on our way back). We spent our first night in the rooftop tent after a stunning sunset, accompanied by the grunting of hippos in the river.
The next day, we set off early, heading to Kafue NP. In fact, we’ll always leave early—waking up between 5:00 and 5:30 AM and hitting the road an hour later. Kafue is a lesser-known park, mostly forested, and the animals are skittish because they’re not used to human presence. We crossed the park from south to north and came across various antelopes. Near Lake Itezhi-Tezhi, there are plains where wildlife is easier to spot.
After Kafue, we headed to South Luangwa. This journey requires stops in Mumbwa and Petauke. Two pleasant stops where we found lodges (a nice change from the rooftop tent) at affordable prices and met welcoming people.
For me, South Luangwa is Zambia’s most beautiful park—the river is stunning, the landscapes are gorgeous, and there’s a wide variety of wildlife, including, of course, big cats. A tip for those, like us, who aren’t with a guide: if you’re staying near the park for several days, don’t hesitate to do a "game drive" to scout out where the animals are so you can return the next day with your own vehicle. Of course, in the dry season, you’ll want to focus on waterholes to see the animals—and you’ll need a bit of luck too. The elephant population is growing, and we were lucky enough to see around sixty elephants crossing the Luangwa at dawn, spread across several groups. South Luangwa is the westernmost point of our trip, and we’re now heading east to Lower Zambezi.
Lower Zambezi is Zambia’s side of Mana Pools on the Zimbabwe side. We took a boat ride on the Zambezi to see elephants, hippos, crocodiles, and a multitude of birds living along the water and on the river’s islands. The sunset there is also magnificent.
To explore the park, we followed the waterways parallel to the Zambezi, mostly on the western side (see our route). Lower Zambezi is the last park we visit, and the final leg of our trip will be Victoria Falls.
Victoria Falls—or Mosi-Oa-Tunya ("The Smoke That Thunders")—are truly impressive, even during the dry season. We saw the falls from both countries: in Zambia for the overall view and the bridge that serves as the border, and in Zimbabwe to get as close as possible to the most spectacular parts of the falls.
This marks the end of our trip, which, despite a blown tire on the road, went off without any major issues. Zambia is a beautiful country that immerses you in wild, still-preserved nature.
The latest travel journal about Turkmenistan dates back to 2019. Here’s a quick update on this vast desert country, which is now a bit easier to visit than before.
This is my first travel journal. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. The country is slowly opening up, but it’s still possible to visit sites where you’ll be completely alone. In five days, I saw two Hongkongers, a few Germans, and a Chilean at the crater, ten Chinese people in a capital bazaar, and that’s it!
It’s possible to visit Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan. The easiest and most economical way is to take a taxi to the border from Bukhara. The trip takes a little over an hour.
Crossing the border takes quite a while because many Turkmen bring back items bought in Uzbekistan to resell in Turkmenistan. For example, diapers, baby products, or beauty products.
It took me over 2.5 hours to cross the border. To visit Turkmenistan, it’s mandatory to have a guide and go through a travel agency. British agencies often offer three-, five-, or seven-day trips for over 1,500 or 2,000 €.
But if your budget is more limited, you can contact a few Turkmen agencies directly by email, and they’ll make you an offer between 700 and 1,300 € for three to seven days. I took a five-day trip from Turkmenabat in the northeast of the country to Dashoguz in the north. The goal was to visit the main UNESCO-listed sites, including Merv, and archaeological sites like Nisa or Gonur Tepe.
Your guide will also be your driver. They’ll pick you up at the border. The formalities are very long because customs officers have to stamp multiple documents, and obtaining the visa you previously requested from your travel agency requires several checks. But the process goes relatively smoothly, even if each step takes a while.
Once on the other side, the first surprise is the brand-new highway all the way to Turkmenabat. A very long line of trucks stretches for several kilometers on the Turkmen side to cross the border into Uzbekistan. According to my guide, Turkmen trucks transport gas and cotton (though not this season, since the harvest is in September), but they mainly fill up their tanks because fuel is much cheaper in Turkmenistan. A full tank for a car costs about 3 €, which is unbeatable.
From the Farap border post, the goal is to reach the city of Mary, which is home to the UNESCO-listed site of Merv in its suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. This city is known as a foundation by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC under the name Alexandria of Margiana. Several fortresses are visible.
After more than three hours on the road, we have lunch at a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin. Several quotes from the president are visible along the highway, but the road is in good condition, and we move along easily. This will be by far the best road in the country—things will get much worse later.
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
Here we go!!!
I left home at 4 AM on October 31st and headed to Barcelona. Driving through Barcelona on the ring road stresses me out a bit, but at 6 AM the traffic is smooth, and I arrive at the airport without any issues. I call the valet, who quickly comes to pick up my car. He takes photos of it from all angles before letting me go.
Baggage check-in hasn’t started yet, and there are already several of us waiting.
Once free, everything happens very quickly. The flight to Abu Dhabi is on time and goes smoothly. I’ve never had any problems with this airline, which I’ve been using for several years.
The flight to Bangkok arrives at 7 AM as scheduled. This is my first time in Thailand and Bangkok. I’m used to traveling in India, and I notice that everything here is well organized—the customs process is quick, and the luggage is already on the carousel.
I booked a taxi on Booking. All I have to do is find the right exit and door based on the agency’s instructions. A large sign with the names of people who booked is posted on a wall. A hostess greets me and calls the taxi, which arrives 5 minutes later. I booked one night at the Lost Inn BKK hotel in the Phra Nakhon district, and we arrive at 9 AM. The welcome isn’t warm, and I have to wait until noon, sitting on a chair, before I can check into my room. I’m exhausted, and sleeping sitting up isn’t ideal. Noon finally arrives—the room is small but clean, which is fine for one night. I quickly take a shower to wake up because I plan to spend the afternoon visiting the Grand Palace. First, I need to exchange some money, and the banks are all close together on the same street, which is very convenient. When I enter one, a hostess gives me a ticket and invites me to sit down. There are about twenty counters, and I wait quietly until my number is called. The exchange is quick, so I can head out to find the Royal Palace. It’s actually very easy, and the walk is pleasant.
Entry to the Royal Palace (500 baht).
It’s magnificent and grand, and there are quite a few of us visiting. The sky is gray, it’s very humid, and a shower interrupts the visit. It’s a vast complex of temples and palaces. The buildings are colorful and sparkling, with a great sense of serenity (without the tourists, of course). I quietly enjoy the place and try to take photos without tourists, which isn’t easy.
Very close to the Grand Palace is Wat Pho, one of the oldest Buddhist temples in the capital.
It’s very famous for its 46-meter-long reclining Buddha statue.
Walking around the temple, you can see different representations of Buddha, all covered in gold leaf.
Inside the temple, on one side, monks recite their prayers, while the other side is reserved for tourists who come to meditate in silence.
Before returning to the hotel, I have dinner at an Indian restaurant. I go to bed early because tomorrow’s wake-up call will be very early again.
Saturday, November 2nd
Wake-up at 4 AM, departure from the hotel at 4:30 AM. The taxi I booked via Booking is waiting for me and takes me to the airport. The trip is fairly quick—he takes small roads, and at this hour, there’s no traffic.
The flight to Phnom Penh is on time. Before boarding, I realize I left my fleece jacket on the carousel, but it’s too late to go back for it.
The flight goes well, and customs is quick.
At the exit, I take a tuk-tuk to Julieka’s GH near the museum. The welcome is friendly. I won’t be able to check into my room until noon, so I take the opportunity to exchange some euros on the market street. The street is lined with restaurants, and I’ll have my first meal there.
The museum is right across the street, so I don’t waste any time visiting it.
The representations of Hindu deities are very different from those in India, and I don’t recognize them. Many beautiful Buddhas are on display.
The museum is very pleasant, and there aren’t too many people, which is a plus.
At the exit, I return to the GH, settle into my room—which is decent and clean.
The Royal Palace is 1 km away. I walk along a garden, and at the end of the street is the Tonlé Sap, but I turn right. I arrive at a large esplanade and see the buildings with tiered roofs and glazed tiles. The entrance to the palace is a little further away.
At the entrance, I notice there isn’t the same crowd as at the one in BKK.
Khmer architecture is magnificent. The complex consists of gardens, palaces, pagodas with golden roofs, and slender spires.
The Silver Pagoda houses the small Emerald Buddha, which is actually made of jade. The silver flooring is covered with carpets. Photos are not allowed.
The walls surrounding the pagoda are covered with frescoes depicting scenes from the Ramayana.
My partner and I traveled from Sunday, July 5, 2026, to Wednesday, July 22, 2026.
We spent a long time debating whether to rent a car or use public transportation. In the end, after reading so many posts about travelers getting scammed by police or rental companies—even those recommended by blogs and reviews—we decided to stick with public transport. It worked out really well. Sure, we had a little less freedom to go where we wanted, but it was way less stressful for us.
Sunday, July 5:
Arrived at Cancun Airport. Withdrew cash from the ATM in the terminal just before exiting. The ADO bus counter (they pronounce it "A-Jee-O") is right behind you when you're facing the ATM. Bus to downtown Cancun cost 145 pesos per person.
Stayed at "Rose 5," booked on Booking. The studio was super clean and perfect for one night. The owner’s instructions for accessing the place were very precise, with photos included. Check-in was self-service with a code. The ADO bus terminal isn’t far, and there are shops and restaurants nearby. We really appreciated that the AC was already on when we arrived. By the way, I’d recommend always booking places with AC—it’s *really* hot in Mexico.
Monday, July 6:
Bought a SIM card with data from a TELCEL store. My partner, who’s on Free Mobile, was able to use her regular plan. Just so you know, I found the network pretty unstable. As soon as we left the cities, neither of us—me with TELCEL or her with Free—had any signal.
Another thing to watch out for: roaming charges. I had to turn my SIM back on for less than 30 seconds to get a bank SMS code, and my phone apparently connected to the internet—resulting in an 8-euro roaming fee.
Left on an ADO bus to Chiquila for 278 pesos per person. During our trip, ADO buses were always on time, comfortable, and clean. The AC is *cranked* though, so bring something to cover up with—it gets cold. Some routes were fully booked even in the low season, so try to reserve 1 or 2 days in advance either via the app (when it works) or at the counter.
When we arrived at the ADO terminal in Chiquila, the ferry company counters were right next to it. Ferries leave every 30 minutes, alternating between companies, so no need to book ahead. Just take whichever one is leaving next (330 pesos per person).
When we got to Holbox (pronounced "Hol-bosh"), we’d booked a place via Booking called "Casa de Nana." It was a huge studio with a fridge, cooking plate, and utensils. The best part? The *location*. It was 100 meters from the beach and 200 meters from a Chedraui supermarket. They provided bath towels and beach towels, and the AC worked perfectly. There’s a key box so you can leave your keys inside when you go out. The only downside was that no one was there to let us in when we arrived, so we had to wait a while. The Wi-Fi was good, which was lucky because during our 4-day stay in Holbox, the phone network *never* worked. According to locals, that’s pretty common in Holbox, along with water outages.
Luckily, I’d had the good idea to download an offline map, which helped us find our way back to the place more easily. You can walk there from the dock.
The restaurant next to our place (La Barracuda) was great if you like seafood—I’d recommend their octopus dishes.
Tuesday, July 7:
We did a kayak tour in Holbox’s mangroves at 6 AM. We were looking for a sunrise kayak tour with a French-speaking guide. That’s exactly what we got with "Kayaking Holbox," where Diego, the owner, speaks English and French. He was joined by Gustavo, another guide.
We’d booked for a group tour, but we were the only ones. Diego still went ahead with it instead of canceling due to lack of participants, so we got a private tour at the group rate—really professional of him. They showed us this amazing ecosystem for over 3 hours. We saw all kinds of birds: pink flamingos, pelicans, egrets, frigatebirds... rays, a horseshoe crab, and a little crocodile that was *so* well hidden. Diego and Gustavo have a real eye for spotting animals—I could’ve passed by the crocodile 100 times and never seen it, it blended in so well. Their explanations about the flora and fauna were super interesting. We also got a little break where we tasted mangoes and bananas that taste *nothing* like the ones in France. A real treat—those little Mexican yellow mangoes! I’d definitely recommend Diego and his agency for a French-language kayak tour (1000 pesos per person).
In the evening, we walked to Punta Coco to see the bioluminescence. No need for a guided tour—if you really don’t want to walk, you can take a taxi. At Punta Coco, you have to pass the beach bar/restaurant and then go left into a kind of inlet that forms a lagoon. You have to wiggle your feet or move your hands in the water to create movement, which makes the light appear. Just don’t expect the kind of photos you’ve seen online—they’re all edited! It’s fun to see, but you won’t be dazzled by the light...
Wednesday, July 8:
Whale shark tour with "My Holbox Tours." Why recommend this agency over others for swimming with whale sharks? Simply because Valérie surrounds herself with top professionals to make your experience unforgettable. We were with Captain Fernando, who does everything to position the boat perfectly and make your swim easier. In the water, we were with Humberto, who also goes above and beyond to make sure you have an incredible time. He doesn’t just "supervise" like some guides from other companies who leave you on your own. No, Humberto reads the whale shark’s trajectory and guides you—all you have to do is follow him. He really puts in the effort, even holding your hand to guide you through this quick but intense encounter. Humberto also films the moment and will offer to show you the videos and sell them to you. His footage is really high quality.
Fernando and Humberto also prepared food for us. Special mention for their guacamole! Valérie is there to make sure everything goes smoothly on the boat and to answer your questions in French, English, or Spanish about these animals. If you choose My Holbox Tours, you can be sure you’ll get a top-notch experience.
About the tour itself: before you go, you should know that the sharks can be *really* far away. The day we went, it took 3.5 hours by boat to reach them. The boats are small, and let me tell you—on the way there, when we weren’t going with the waves, it was *rough*. Out of 9 passengers, 4 got seasick. But once you’re face-to-face with the shark, you forget all about that. Even if swimming with a whale shark isn’t exactly a walk in the park—they swim pretty fast, so you need some endurance to keep up. You’ll usually get 2 turns. Our first swim lasted a little over 4 minutes, and the second about 2 minutes because the shark was moving fast and we were still tired from the first swim. It might seem short, but when you’re swimming, it feels *long*. Either way, it’s an experience you *have* to do—but choose your company wisely. On the way back, there’s a stop at Cabo Catoche. Honestly, the snorkeling is pretty disappointing if you’ve done it elsewhere in the world. But the lunch stop at Cabo Catoche is really nice for relaxing (white sand and hammocks).
Thursday, July 9:
Short morning walk to Punta Mosquito at 6 AM. Really nice.
Ferry to Chiquila (330 pesos per person) + ADO bus to Valladolid (300 pesos per person).
In Valladolid, we booked "Casa Lucia" via Booking. The hotel is gorgeous, with a colonial style, and very close to the ADO bus terminal and downtown. It’s super quiet and clean. There’s a shared kitchen you can use with a fridge, microwave, and water dispenser, plus a big table by the pool and a nice indoor terrace. Breakfast was simple but included. The only small downsides were the tiny room and bathroom, no mirror in the room, and a noisy fan.
Friday, July 10:
Not far from the ADO bus terminal is the colectivo station for Chichen Itza. They offer a round-trip to Chichen Itza with an option to stop at Ik Kil cenote on the way back and then drop you off in Valladolid for 370 pesos per person (Ik Kil entrance included).
For the Chichen Itza visit, we’d booked a tour with a guide often mentioned in groups—his name is Juan Pat. He’s a Maya who lives near the site and speaks excellent French. He reserves spots in advance for you and queues up to be the first on-site. It cost 500 pesos per person + entrance fees. His tour lasts 2 hours and focuses mainly on the main pyramid and the ball court. He’s passionate and fascinating, even if some of his claims, as a Maya, might be a little biased. I think it’s *really* important to have a guide—otherwise, you’ll miss so much. You can contact Juan Pat on WhatsApp at +52 985 121 2381.
Afterward, we went to Ik Kil cenote (showers and life jackets mandatory, lockers available). It’s *very* crowded, but still really beautiful with its lush vegetation.
Saturday, July 11:
Since we didn’t have a car but still wanted to visit other cenotes that seemed hard to reach by public transport, we decided to book a taxi for the day. We agreed on 1200 pesos to take us to 3 different cenotes and wait for us at each one. (To find taxis, just look where they park near the ADO bus station.)
He picked us up at Zaci cenote, which we’d walked to. We got there at opening time and were the first ones there—had the place to ourselves for a while! 150 pesos per person. A pretty cenote in the city center with lush vegetation. It’s a bit like Ik Kil but without the deep cylindrical effect.
Cenote Xcanahaltun: the most beautiful cenote we visited. Entry 250 pesos per person. It’s a closed cenote with a hole that lets light in—a cave-like setting. You can kayak inside. There are little fish at the edge that nibble dead skin off your feet. Since it’s closed, the water is *freezing*!
Cenote Palomitas: entry 250 pesos per person. Another stunning closed cenote, even more enclosed than Xcanahaltun. The hole in the ceiling is smaller, so it was pretty dark when we arrived—kind of an eerie vibe. But when the staff turned on the lights, it looked like a "Gothic cathedral" full of bright stalactites.
Cenote Sac Aua: entry 290 pesos per person. The ticket includes a guided cave tour (tip-based). This cenote is really unique with its central island and way less crowded than Suytun. Just so you know, the water is *really* cold in cenotes. In these three, in July, we had the place to ourselves for a while and never saw more than 2 families at once—so peaceful!
Sunday, July 12:
ADO bus to Bacalar (536 pesos per person).
In Bacalar, we stayed via Airbnb with a host named Luli, who offers several rooms with shared bathroom and kitchen.
The room is nicely decorated in a pleasant setting. It’s ideally located near the lagoon and downtown. The shared kitchen is handy. The mosquito net over the bed is useful because there are *a lot* of mosquitoes in Bacalar. Luli provides a water jug, which is really nice. The only big downside is the lack of water pressure in the shower—we had to rinse off by filling a bucket. Also, there’s no real door separating the room from the bathroom. We never met Luli in person, but she was very responsive via messages. The terrace in the middle of the vegetation is lovely.
From the ADO terminal to the place, we took a taxi for 40 pesos. Since this driver was honest about the price (we’d checked beforehand), we decided to use him every time we needed a taxi in Bacalar. Here’s his WhatsApp: +52 983 184 3585.
Monday, July 13:
We did a boat tour on the lagoon with "Bacalar Francophone Activities." Since we were just the two of us, it cost 3500 pesos. If we’d managed to be 4 people, it would’ve been 1000 pesos per person.
We had a private 4-hour tour on the lagoon with Steeve and his very comfortable boat. He’s from Quebec, so his French is perfect. During those 4 hours, Steeve showed us the lagoon’s iconic spots *and* places other boats don’t go. He told us about the lagoon’s history and gave great tips on where to go and where to eat. As a little bonus, he gave us a video taken with his drone during our swimming break.
Tuesday, July 14:
We went to Los Rapidos by taxi (400 pesos round trip) and entry was 225 pesos per person. It’s *very* touristy but really beautiful. You can eat there (expensive), relax, and go down the "rapids" as many times as you want. It’s worth it if you spend a few hours there. You can’t bring in food or drinks—you leave them at the entrance and pick them up on the way out.
Wednesday, July 15:
On Wednesdays, navigation is banned on Bacalar Lagoon, so we’d planned another excursion.
Visit to Calakmul from Bacalar with ABCtours (WhatsApp +52 983 319 8359).
This agency organized a trip from Bacalar to Calakmul with a French-speaking guide. Communication beforehand via WhatsApp was smooth. Mr. Checo, the driver, and Fernando, the guide (who spoke great French), picked us up on the day. Mr. Checo drove very carefully on the long road and always made sure we were comfortable. Fernando is passionate about flora and fauna—he’s a biologist with a degree in ornithology, so he knows *everything* about animals. The slightest sound or song, and he knows what it is. He’s got an eye for spotting them, from the biggest to the smallest.
During the trip, we stopped at km 27 for a short forest walk, then went to see the two main pyramids on the site. On the way back, we stopped at the bat cave for the magical spectacle of millions of bats flying out at dusk. In the end, we saw or glimpsed (some briefly) spider monkeys, howler monkeys, a toucan, 2 tapirs, turkeys, 2 deer, and lots of birds. If, like us, you’re more into flora and fauna than archaeology, I’d *highly* recommend this agency and tour with Fernando.
It’s not cheap, but the road between Bacalar and the site is *long* (3.5 hours). Price: 3900 pesos per person for 2 (3500 for 3, 3200 for 4).
Thursday, July 16:
ADO bus to Playa del Carmen (614 pesos per person).
In Playa del Carmen, we stayed in an Airbnb. The building is on the town hall square, next to the casino.
The best thing about this place is the *location*—super close to Fifth Avenue (La Quinta). The kitchen is pretty basic, but the fridge works well. There are supermarkets nearby. The rooftop pool is really nice. The two big downsides, though, are the soundproofing (you can *hear* the neighbor’s alarm and all the events on the square) and the *total* lack of water pressure in the shower. We had to fill a trash can with water to pour over ourselves. When we told the owner, he said it wasn’t normal and someone would come fix it, but we never heard back. Based on previous reviews, this seems to be a known issue that never gets resolved.
Playa del Carmen is *very* touristy on Fifth Avenue, but in a fun, musical vibe—we never felt unsafe. There are *tons* of little souvenir shops for tourists on this street. There’s a beautiful monumental sculpture on the beach (the two figures meeting in the air), next to which you can see the Voladores show (men climbing a pole, tying themselves with ropes, and descending headfirst while "flying" around the pole). The show is tip-based and happens several times a day. In our opinion, Calle 38 is prettier than Fifth Avenue—it’s lush, green, and quieter, with the sea at the end. Great for an early evening stroll. We had really good meals at great prices at "El Tio Noy" tacos, just a few meters from Fifth Avenue in a side street.
For souvenirs, we’d recommend going to Walmart instead of Fifth Avenue—you’ll find skulls, tequila, mezcal, keychains, mugs, glasses... at good, fixed prices.
Friday, July 17:
We did the excursion to Isla Contoy. Isla Contoy is an uninhabited, highly protected island. Only 200 people are allowed to land per day on a rotating basis, so only a few companies have permission to dock there. Most agencies subcontract the day to a third-party company.
We booked through VRM (Viviendo Riviera Maya), but it was Ocean Tours Mexico that handled the tour. Contoy is a little paradise. We were accompanied by multilingual guides, including French speakers, throughout the day. Steffy gave us info about the island during a short walk on the marked trails, and Leño Tlatemoa kept the mood up on the boat rides with music and dancing. Isla Contoy is *truly* stunning, and the lunch was delicious: grilled fish and chicken, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, fruit, drinks (everything is brought and taken back by the guides). The snorkeling part was pretty disappointing if you’ve done it in Cozumel, though. The stop at Isla Mujeres isn’t very interesting either—it’s too short to explore, and the island is *extremely* touristy. Still, the excursion was very well organized, and we had a great day (2970 pesos per person).
Saturday, July 18:
We wanted to go snorkeling in Cozumel but thought the prices from French-speaking agencies were too high. Plus, for snorkeling, we figured we didn’t *need* a French-speaking guide.
So we found a much cheaper solution by taking the ferry from Playa del Carmen ourselves and choosing an agency in Playa. The round-trip ferry cost 663.50 pesos per person. Then we took a taxi to the snorkeling boat (100 pesos). The agency we chose is called Mystic Snorkel—they don’t have a physical office. The tour cost 1400 pesos per person. It was a small boat, but that day we were the only ones, so we got a private tour at the group rate. We stopped at 4 different sites, all very different and beautiful. We saw all kinds of fish, corals, a nurse shark, and turtles. El Cielo, with its huge starfish, is *exceptional*. If you’re going snorkeling in the Yucatan Peninsula, this is *the* tour to do—the other sites are pretty "poor" in comparison.
Sunday, July 19:
Morning dive with Triton Diving. I chose the Cozumel dive option. Great experience.
Booking via WhatsApp was easy. On the day of the dive, Selene, who speaks French, was our guide. She’s *very* attentive to the group’s safety. The briefings are clear and precise. In Cozumel, we did 2 very different sites: the first was a drift dive with lots of life—beautiful corals and fish. The second was a wreck, the C53, a 56-meter boat you can enter. Not much marine life, but a beautiful wreck intentionally sunk for divers—still in great condition. An unforgettable moment. Selene even took videos during the dive, which the club sends you for free afterward. I’d *highly* recommend this club.
Just so you know, in Playa del Carmen, the beaches were full of sargassum during our stay, despite barriers and daily cleanup. Locals told us the problem is getting worse and the sargassum is arriving earlier in the season. Tourism has taken a *big* hit this summer, and they’re wondering if tourism can even survive the sargassum season anymore. A lot of tourists are heading to the islands—Isla Mujeres and Cozumel—to enjoy the beaches, as the west side of those islands is sargassum-free.
Monday, July 20:
Colectivo to Puerto Morelos. First, a colectivo toward Cancun that drops you off between Puerto Morelos town and Puerto Morelos beach (40 pesos per person), then another from that junction to the beach (10 pesos per person).
In Puerto Morelos, we’d booked a room via Airbnb at "Piedra del Caribe." *Best* place we stayed in Mexico. It’s an aparthotel. Our room was ready before check-in, so they let us in early. The place matched the description—spacious, with a comfortable king-size bed. The shower had *great* pressure, which isn’t a given in Mexico. The staff was super friendly and welcoming. They let us use the pool, restrooms, and rooftop shower after check-out while we waited for our ride to Cancun Airport. They even kept our luggage. I *highly* recommend this place.
In Puerto Morelos, there was *way* less sargassum than in Playa del Carmen—it was actually swimmable.
We did the snorkeling tour with the fishermen’s cooperative for 450 pesos per person for 2 hours. The reef is close to the beach (you’re not allowed to swim there), so the boat ride is short. It’s not as pretty as Cozumel, but it’s nice and affordable. On Puerto Morelos’s page, you can also access a small, not-very-well-preserved reef. There’s also a cenote in the sea where fresh water mixes with saltwater—the water is murky there. We had a great dinner and excellent cocktails at "La Choza del Puerto."
Tuesday, July 21:
Wandered around Puerto Morelos (check out the church and read everything—it’s entertaining!), relaxed by the hotel pool, and left for Cancun Airport by taxi (400 pesos) booked via InDrive to head back to France.
Our highlights:
- Holbox
- The whale shark tour
- The cenotes
- The local flora and fauna (so present!)
- Isla Contoy
- Cabo Catoche (except for the snorkeling)
What we liked least:
- The bioluminescence (barely visible despite good conditions)
- The food—we found it not very diverse in taquerias
- The constant tipping
- The lack of water pressure in showers (fixed, wall-mounted, no hose or showerhead)
Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions while it’s still fresh in our minds.
Here we go—finally, the big day has arrived! A trip the whole family (my two kids, my husband, and me) had been looking forward to for so long.
To keep it short, we left from Nice, arrived in Namibia on June 25, 2025, and left again on the 21st—four weeks later.
We used an agency for all the camping reservations, activities, and the car rental. At least that side of things was taken care of. Michaël was our contact throughout the planning and the trip itself.
We spent our first night at Londiningi BB. A bit out of the city center but very quiet. The rooms were spacious and clean, and we could eat on-site that evening. Perfect for recovering from the flight.
This travel journal is our second on VoyageForum, following last year’s where we recounted our four weeks in Vietnam.
The goal remains the same: since some members on this site share tips, experiences, and great deals that help us prepare for our trips, we do the same after returning—both to give back a little and in the hope that our experiences might be useful to others in some way.
Our route was as follows: Bangkok, Siem Reap, Krabi, Suratthani, Koh Phangan, Koh Tao, Chumphon, Bang Saphan, Prachuab Khiri Khan, Sam Roi Yod, Hua Hin, Phetchaburi, Bangkok.
Beyond rediscovering Bangkok, our objectives were the long-held dream of seeing Angkor and exploring southern Thailand, much of which isn’t overly touristy.
A quick big thank-you to Barbot, who took the time to answer several of our questions.
12/07/2013
The cheapest flight we found earlier this year was a Paris-Bangkok route with a layover in Moscow for 1440 €, total for two people.
So, this time we tried Aeroflot. Airbus A318 for the first leg, A330 for the second. Nothing particularly annoying to report—the passengers were very calm, the cabin temperature was comfortable, and we had enough legroom.
That said, the quality of the meal trays was pretty mediocre, and the flight attendants weren’t exactly comedians.
We’d like to remind everyone that it’s best to exchange as little money as possible at the airport upon arrival, since the rate is about 5% worse than at city banks.
Of course, we made sure to take the airport exit where you can catch official taxis to avoid getting scammed. So, we queued up, a little lady gave us the ticket, and off we went with the driver.
Generally, this system works well because these drivers are registered, know their duties, and the risks they face if they break the rules. Except that day, right off the bat, we got the scammer of the day. His first move was to snatch the ticket from my wife’s hands—the one you’re supposed to keep in case of a complaint. My husband saw it, but after a full day of travel, we were a bit out of it, and honestly, there was no reason to be suspicious. But once we started driving, the guy refused to turn on the meter. We insisted more and more firmly, but nothing. So, I used the famous method of opening the door and starting to step out of the car. At 40 km/h, that scares the driver more than the passenger. He finally turned on the meter, but that didn’t calm him down—quite the opposite. For the next half-hour, he ruined the ride by demanding extra fees here and there. Having dealt with several scam attempts last year in Vietnam, this wasn’t exactly new, and we were proud of ourselves for staying pretty zen. Still, this guy was a little scary—he was completely wired and aggressive. Honestly, it was hard not to think he was on something. He’d be perfect for a *Scarface* remake. When we finally arrived at the hotel, he followed us to the entrance. We paid the two tolls (25 and 45 baht), gave him the usual 100 baht extra for the ride, and stayed polite but firm. So, meter: 245 baht + 100 baht + 25 and 45 baht for tolls—we paid the exact amount, no way we were tipping this guy. He left furious, but he was already like that before picking us up... Anyway, avoid Mr. Chartree Chidchen, number 089 826 7308, car E2663!
We were so relieved to finally settle in at Feung Nakorn Balcony hotel in the temple district. 42 € per night, great reception, all the staff is friendly. The AC works fine, the bed seemed hard at first but turned out to be comfortable. The hotel is quiet, away from the nightlife, but at this time of year, many places are less crowded than in high season. Even with a nice fish pond and outdoor breakfast area, it’s a decent hotel, though we felt we could’ve found something better.
After a night on the plane, the first afternoon is always a bit of a slog. We napped for a few hours, and when we woke up—guess what—we were starving. We visited a temple across from the hotel (nothing special) and then decided to take the Chao Phraya Express, the river shuttle that serves many piers along the river. It was a really enjoyable experience. The steel gangway wobbles when you board and disembark, the boat sits low in the water, and sometimes you get splashed. During peak times, you’re packed in like sardines, but most of all, there’s that exotic urban landscape passing by, especially the temple rooftops.
At that exact moment, the boat was packed. We didn’t see a ticket booth at the pier, and we tried in vain to pay the few baht for the ride. The cashier on the boat was too busy, and another employee we called didn’t have time to help us. Oh well, we weren’t going to force the issue. Still, this mode of transport is super practical for avoiding traffic, and at the piers, the lines with station names are clearly marked, with colors matching the flags on the boats. Combined with a map like the *Routard* guide, it’s easy to navigate.
We easily made it to the restaurant *Harmonique*, located near one of these piers. It’s a unanimous favorite on this forum, and let us tell you—it’s well-deserved. What a wonderful experience that evening! We only saw the outdoor gazebo because there was no way we were dining inside. It’s not flashy, so those looking for a luxurious setting should look elsewhere.
That night, the staff was a bit slow, and we had to track them down several times to move things along. But oh, my friends—what a feast on the plate! Start with the appetizer platter for two at 250 baht, featuring four specialties, each more tempting than the last, followed by their famous crab curry for 200 baht. There’s *so much* crab in there! The dish is so delicious and rich that when you finish, you feel—how to put it—like it was almost *too* good, to the point where you’re almost put off eating for days. And also, oh yes, we *will* be back. Their satay chicken is just as amazing, and it would be a crime not to mention their generous dessert with ice cream, warm banana, and chocolate, plus their *excellent* almond milkshake.
Later, we took a taxi to Kao San Road, mainly to book a Ko Tao-Chumphon trip for 600 baht per person at the Lomprayah counter. In hindsight, we should’ve booked all three of our trips there right away.
Kao San Road is *ultra*-touristy—better for younger crowds, but it’s still worth seeing. There’s rock ‘n’ roll, hippies, and crowds everywhere.
We walked back to the hotel, and when we got a little lost near a canal, a really nice older Thai man spontaneously appeared out of the night to kindly point us in the right direction.
Finally, a real long night of sleep ahead—we cranked up the AC. Sweet, the vacation has begun!
Hi there,
I just got back from a trip to Sri Lanka from December 18th to January 1st with 2 adults and 2 kids (12 years old).
If it helps, here’s my itinerary.
We left on December 18th from Madrid with Qatar Airways. No complaints. I booked my tickets back in March for 800 € per person. (I flew from Madrid because I live near the Spanish border and was too worried about strikes in France.)
We arrived on December 19th at 4 PM (local time). Before leaving France, I’d booked a taxi through MyTransfer for 59 € to Sigiriya. A van was waiting for us at the airport exit.
A never-ending 3-hour drive to Sigiriya. We stayed at Samana Guesthouse—very simple, clean, with a pool and an excellent Sri Lankan breakfast. Shower and straight to bed.
Friday, December 20th: Beautiful weather, but very humid and hot. We visited Lion Rock (36 € for adults) and then Pidurangala.
I loved both sites—they’re a must-do in my opinion.
Spent the late afternoon by the pool.
Saturday, December 21st: Another gorgeous day. The guesthouse manager offered us a free 2-hour tuk-tuk tour. We first visited a lake, rice fields, the temple, and the Sigiriya market, plus the usual tourist trap—the botanical garden (no pressure to buy anything at the end).
Then we took a tuk-tuk to Dambulla Temple, the Golden Buddha, and the wholesale market.
Sunday, December 22nd: Still beautiful weather. I’d booked a taxi for 8 AM. We did all the long trips by taxi to save time. I’d ask for prices from 2 or 3 WhatsApp taxi agencies 2 days or the day before—super responsive, always got replies within 5 minutes. We headed to Ella (4-hour drive) for 22,000 LKR.
Arrived in the afternoon at Rest Full Homestay—a small, family-run guesthouse. Clean, cozy, and an amazing Sri Lankan breakfast.
In the afternoon, we went to Nine Arches Bridge. It was a Sunday, a Sri Lankan holiday, so it was *packed*—mostly locals and very few white tourists! Even though it was crowded, it was cool because it was all Sri Lankans. We waited an hour for the train. It’s worth seeing, but honestly, I didn’t think it was that amazing.
Then we headed to the station to check if we needed to book tickets for the train to Haputale—turns out, no.
Monday, December 23rd: Beautiful weather. We hiked Ella Rock—a gorgeous trek. The final stretch is steep but shaded, so it wasn’t as tough as I’d read. The whole hike is stunning from start to finish. We saw the train pass twice (one blue, one red) and lots of women picking tea.
After that, we did Little Adam’s Peak. It’s not hard, but it was *packed* with tourists—meh. Luckily, at the top, you can walk a bit farther (down one side and back up) to get some space to yourself.
What I *didn’t* like was the commercial vibe at the big café/restaurant with a pool at the entrance of Little Adam’s Peak. Loud music, all that money being made right next to little souvenir stands run by Sri Lankans or tea-picking women. Felt off.
Ended the day buying souvenirs at one of the few shops we found during the trip.
Tuesday, December 24th: Beautiful weather. Took the train to Haputale. We got to the station 30 minutes before the 9:30 AM train. We could’ve taken 2nd or 3rd class—I went with 2nd (160 LKR per person).
It was crowded, but we managed to get seats—first 2, then 3. Only a 1-hour ride, but I *loved* it—windows and doors open the whole time.
Arrived in Haputale around 11 AM, and the mist was already rolling in.
We walked to our guesthouse, The Mist Holiday Bungalow. Simple but clean, with a great view of the tea plantations. The owner’s wife is Vietnamese and used to work for French tour operators, so her French is still pretty good—helpful for us since our English is terrible. They booked us a tuk-tuk for 4:45 AM the next day (2,000 LKR) to Lipton’s Seat.
Spent the afternoon wandering around Haputale. Not much charm, but there’s a nice fruit and veggie market and a short walk through the tea plantations.
Wednesday, December 25th: Beautiful weather. The tuk-tuk was on time to take us to Lipton’s Seat. We were the first ones there—the sky was just starting to turn pink. In the end, only about ten of us watched the sunrise. The guesthouse had packed us breakfast, and we walked back down (half on the road, half through the plantations). Didn’t see any tea picking since it was Christmas, but the walk was still incredible. We took detours through villages full of kids.
After that, we visited the tea factory. The tour was really interesting, and we took the bus back down to Haputale. Such a great moment—whole families were heading to mass, dressed up and made up. All so beautiful.
At noon, we left for Udawalawe National Park. Taxi for 14,000 LKR. Stayed at River Inn Safari Cottage. *Warning*: It’s the same place as Eagle Safari Cottage. I don’t recommend it. We’d always stayed with families before, but here it was just staff—totally different vibe. The pool was nice but not very clean (water was murky). The bungalow was big and fine, but it was brand new—so new the asphalt floor wasn’t fully dry. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so we had to eat on-site. Couldn’t leave a review on Booking because they never confirmed we’d stayed, and they canceled our reservation the next day.
Thursday, December 26th: Beautiful weather. I’d booked a safari through the hotel for 5:30–10 AM for 54 USD. Honestly, yes, there are a lot of jeeps, but it was great. The kids loved it—we saw everything there was to see.
Left by taxi at 11:30 AM for Welligama (12,000 LKR).
We didn’t stay in Welligama city but at Coconut Beach, between Welligama and Midigama. *Total crush* on the guesthouse: Sky Mountain Café with View. Such a lovely family. The mom makes amazing meals at reasonable prices. The view from the hill over the sea is unreal.
Spent the afternoon walking along the beach.
Friday, December 27th: Beautiful weather. My kids are surfers. Unfortunately, there weren’t any boards their size to rent at Coconut, so we took a tuk-tuk to Welligama Bay (1,000 LKR). They surfed from 8 AM to 5 PM—rental was 5,000 LKR for the day. Meanwhile, we walked the beach and swam. Water was 29°C.
Saturday, December 28th: Beautiful weather, rain from 4 PM until midnight. Same surf day. They were so well-behaved the whole trip, so this was their reward.
Sunday, December 29th: Beautiful weather. Beach day at Coconut. *Warning*: It’s a reef break. For surfers, there are three spots (Coconut Left, Middle, and Right). The boys bodysurfed (with fins) all morning, and at 1 PM, we took the bus to Hikkaduwa.
Stayed at Hotel Universal Beach. Nothing special—right on the water, but the rooms were dark even though they were clean. The manager was super nice, but the rest was meh, and breakfast was mediocre compared to what we’d had before (2 eggs and 3 slices of toast). Plus, it was late—8 AM.
First impression of Hikkaduwa wasn’t great—way too many Russians for our taste.
Monday, December 30th: Beautiful weather. Spent the whole day exploring. Turtle Beach, then the other side of the beach (toward Galle) near the fishing port. The beach there is much wider, with scattered hotels and super quiet. It’s beautiful—I should’ve booked somewhere in that area. Ended up having a great day away from the crowds.
Tuesday, December 31st: Overcast, then beautiful, rain at 4 PM. Had to end the year (and the trip) with some surf. Rented boards for the kids (3,000 LKR per board for the day). Bad luck—the waves were on a reef break but small. Not great for them, but no big deal. They still got out of the water by 2 PM. Walked the beach (which is gorgeous), had a juice, and went for a swim. Then back to surfing in the rain at 4 PM.
Wednesday, January 1st: Left by taxi at 5 AM (18,000 LKR). Flight at 10 AM. Arrived in Madrid at 8 PM.
I could have titled my travel journal like Carmen: "Some trips are born twice." Indeed, we had considered this destination back in February 2020. However, an honest tour operator advised us against traveling at that time due to the climate. So, we gave up and opted for Guatemala instead (see "On the Mayan Lands" on this site).
So, why this title? When I was in primary school, over 65 years ago, the illustrations in my history books (Machu Picchu) and geography books (Lake Titicaca) made me dream, and those images stayed in my mind. It took until 2026 to finally make this dream come true!
We prepared our trip with Tout Pérou, a French-speaking "agency." Everything was handled via email and WhatsApp exchanges with our contact: Laurent, who was both competent, friendly, and full of good advice.
For 200 €, Tout Pérou provided us with drivers and guides whenever we wanted, helped us buy our domestic flights (cheaper when purchased in Peru), booked shuttles between airports and hotels, and got us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, as well as on the buses between Chivay and Puno and between Puno and Cusco. In short, Laurent took care of all the logistics and the Machu Picchu tickets. It was up to us to book our hotels. Tout Pérou provided a list, but we weren’t obliged to follow it. Another advantage of the package: we didn’t have to pay in advance; we paid the service providers directly day by day.
We didn’t meet Laurent in person because he was on vacation in Europe. Before his departure, he gave us a briefing, provided a summary table with the entire program, the service providers, their phone numbers, their fees, the schedules, and gave us plenty of advice (money, exchange, safety, etc.). After returning at the end of our stay, he kept checking in on us.
Lastly, we had also gathered information from Arnaud Lagadec, who runs a hotel in Cusco and offers tours of the region. He gave us a lot of useful information. Another contact: Thomas Montaigne, very friendly, who runs an agency in Arequipa (Agence Pérou Exclusif).
Day 1 – Paris to Lima
Foreword
I’ll share our trip without any pretension—I don’t have the talent of some contributors on this forum—and I’ll illustrate it with a few photos (taken with an ordinary smartphone). My comments are personal and only reflect my own views. So, please be kind! Feel free to comment on my story as you like, but let’s avoid pointless debates.
Even though we live in the south of the Paris region, true to our habits when the flight is in the morning, we chose to spend the night before our departure in a hotel near CDG and parked our car in a parking lot in Garches. This way, we avoid the stress that often comes with traveling around Paris (accidents, roadworks, traffic jams, etc.).
Check-in and border control went smoothly on that Sunday morning. Our Air France flight was uneventful. In Lima, border control took a particularly long time, and for the first time, we didn’t get an entry visa stamped in our passports.
As planned, a driver took us to the Miraflores district, where our hotel was located. We were surprised by the numerous signs about possible tsunamis, having forgotten that Peru is prone to such events and regularly experiences earthquakes. We’d see the consequences of these during our journey.
Exhausted from the early wake-up, the 13-hour flight, and the 7-hour time difference, we had dinner at the hotel before a restful night.
Note that this day was Peru’s presidential election day. As a result, we weren’t served beer—the sale of alcohol was banned that Sunday.
We did the Langtang trek (hike) from September 10th to 17th, with the first and last days being the trip from Kathmandu and back—so 6 days of actual walking. It’s a fairly well-known trek but certainly not as famous or crowded as those in the Annapurna or Everest regions, which is why we chose it.
In theory, it’s mandatory to have a guide for this trek. In reality, it seems there are ways to bypass the regulations: we met at least two people hiking without a guide—a South Korean, a New Zealander, and possibly also a couple of English women and an American couple, though we’re not sure if they had a guide.
The agency we booked with had told us it was an affordable trek for relatively older people in good shape—which is our case (I’m 72 myself). I have to say upfront that we found it quite challenging, maybe because we didn’t have good weather—it was the end of the monsoon season. To be clear, no matter your fitness level, I’d say doing this trek in the middle of the monsoon season would be suicidal.
Day 1 – Journey from Kathmandu to Syapru Besi
On Monday, September 8th, there had been violent protests in Kathmandu against the government, which had, among other things, blocked access to social media and been accused of nepotism and corruption. There were 19 deaths. The situation was very tense on the day of our departure, Wednesday the 10th. The agency warned us that public transport was very unreliable. So, we decided to take a jeep, at an additional cost of $100 ($160 minus what was already budgeted for the bus).
We left a little before 7 a.m. and it took us a good hour just to reach the outskirts of Kathmandu. Along the way, we saw several houses and vehicles set on fire by protesters.
The road to Syapru Besi is only 120 km, but it’s frankly awful. It’s always narrow, winds through endless mountains, and the shoulders range from bad to confusing to nonexistent. Several sections are just dirt tracks. We didn’t regret opting for the jeep, as we could stop several times at our convenience—if only to let Y (my Thai partner) throw up everything she had. She’d taken her usual motion sickness medication, but the constant turns, accelerations, and braking eventually made her terribly carsick.
In Nuwakot, we stopped for breakfast at a nice little restaurant, Jimbu. It was around 8:30 a.m., and we’d barely covered 60 km. The restaurant has a lovely garden overlooking the Trishuli Ganga, the river flowing down from Syapru Besi. First photo: the river in the bottom right corner, mist and clouds over the mountain on the other side.
An hour later, my second photo: the hills along the Trishuli Ganga. You can see the different crops—lush green rice paddies in the lower right and corn, already yellowed and likely harvested, in the foreground on the left. And of course, the mist and clouds through which you can glimpse the mountain on the other side of the river.
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.
Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.
Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
It’s an ancient city that breathes, a living spring.
Here, no kitschy signs like “I miss you in Fengyu,” nor mass-produced fake antiques.
The century-old houses still bear the marks of wind and rain; in the morning, you hear roosters crowing, and at dusk, smoke gently rises from the kitchens.
This city doesn’t try to please anyone—like the spring water flowing through it, it simply keeps living at its own pace.
Located in Eryuan County, in the Dali Prefecture of Yunnan, the ancient town of Fengyu is a nationally designated historical and cultural city. It’s nicknamed the “land of scholars and ink”—during the Qing Dynasty, the Fengxiang Academy produced four *jinshi* and eleven *juren* in the imperial examinations. The Bai families made studying and farming a true legacy. Even on market days, you’ll find stalls of calligraphy and paintings, while lintels and screen walls are covered with family mottos.
Fengyu was also an important stop on the ancient Tea Horse Road. It preserves the second-largest Bai architectural complex in China, just after Xizhou. The famous traveler Xu Xiake spent seven days here and compared it to the “peach blossom paradise.”
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
!
Vila beach
Sunset behind Santiago
The rocks and sea at Ponta Preta
At the summit of Monte Batalha
Calheta
Calheta de Baixo
The beaches just keep coming...
The dunes
The 3 coconut trees, a landmark to find the track
Boca da Ribeira beach
The hills on our right
Ribeira Dom João
Barreiro
The old track
The church in Vila do Maio
2- Around San Pedro
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
