Récit de 9 jours de découvertes du lac Baïkal et de la Sibérie hivernale.
Tout démarre par un coup de téléphone de ma maman. Elle m’annonce avoir trouvé sa future destination de vacances. Je souris en coin, moi aussi. Un reportage du magazine Géo a focalisé mon attention sur le lac Baïkal. J’écoute son récit : j’ai vu un reportage télévisé, la traversée du lac Baïkal en hiver !
Incroyable ! Il n’en faut pas plus pour nous lancer dans l’aventure. Le compagnon de ma maman ne souhaitant pas nous accompagner, nous partirons à 3. Ma maman, Jeannette, 54 ans, mon compagnon, Adrien, 33 ans et moi, Estelle, 29 ans !
Nous choisissons un parcours sur mesure, organisé par l’agence russe Artel Troïka. Plusieurs mails avec cette agence francophone basée à Moscou nous permettent de finaliser notre voyage. Départ le 3 mars 2018 !
Viens ensuite une étape que nous avions sous-estimée : les visas. Commence un long et pénible travail administratif. Pour ceux qui préfèrent éviter la paperasse, passez ce paragraphe. Nous nous enregistrons sur le site de VFS.Global, qui permet l’obtention de visa russe en Suisse. La liste des documents nécessaires est horriblement longue. Il nous faudra plus de deux semaines pour obtenir toutes les attestations nécessaires auprès de nos assureurs (maladie-accident-rapatriement). Nous complétons ensuite un formulaire long comme le bras sur le site, puis nous fixons une date de rendez-vous à l’ambassade de Bern. Jeannette se dévoue à faire le déplacement, nous lui fournissons des procurations pour qu’elle puisse également présenter nos dossiers. Viens ensuite la très douloureuse facture : 118 CHF par personne ! ça passe plutôt mal, mais nous n’avons pas le choix. Nos passeports sont déposés à l’ambassade, nous les recevrons par courrier deux semaines plus tard. Astuce pour faire quelques économies : l’ambassade facture 45 CHF par passeport pour un renvoi par la Poste. En fonction du nombre de voyageurs, il peut être plus économique de refaire le déplacement jusqu’à Bern pour les récupérer en main propre.
Nous nous retrouvons le 3 mars à l’aéroport de Genève, nos valises pleines à craquer d’habits chauds. Sur recommandation de l’agence, nous partons avec nos bottes d’hiver aux pieds et des habits chauds dans nos bagages à main. Il neige à peine, mais suffisamment pour créer un certain chaos. Notre vol décolle avec 1h30 de retard. Nous avons 2h d’escale à Moscou, la tension monte. Nous atterrissons à Moscou avec 40 minutes de retard sur l’horaire, le pilote a bien comblé le retard. Pourtant habitués des aéroports, nous nous plantons royalement. Il nous faudra longtemps pour comprendre que nous arrivons sur un vol international et devons repartir avec un vol national, ce qui implique un passage de frontière. Nous sommes bons derniers dans la file de la douane. Nos passeports sont tamponnés puis nous piquons un sprint à travers l’aéroport. Quel bonheur de courir à l’intérieur avec des bottes d’hiver rembourrées et une doudoune ! Nous suons à grosses gouttes, mélange de stress et de surchauffe vestimentaire !
Lorsque nous atteignons la porte d’embarquement, les passagers prennent déjà place dans un bus. Adrien présente sa carte d’embarquement, rejoins le bus, suivi de près par ma maman. Arrive mon tour, on me demande d’attendre car le bus est plein. Je tente d’apercevoir mes compagnons de voyage pour les prévenir, sans succès. Dans le bus, ma maman s’aperçoit de mon absence. Adrien est coincé au fond du véhicule par le flot de passagers, impossible de ressortir. C’est donc Jeannette qui revient sur ses pas à ma recherche. Nous communiquons par gestes à travers les deux portes vitrées coulissantes. Rassurée, elle se retourne au moment où le bus démarre. Elle se retrouve coincée sur le tarmac, gesticulant pour tenter de faire fonctionner le détecteur des portes. Amusée par la situation (il fait tout de même -10 °C dehors), je préviens l’agent au guichet. Sa collègue se retourne et fonce vers le tarmac au pas de charge. Ouverture des portes, remontrances (vous ne devez pas rester là, c’est dangereux !), elle abandonne ensuite ma maman entre les deux portes vitrées. Nous rions de sa mésaventure. Un second bus arrive, nous embarquons ensemble et retrouvons Adrien dans l’avion.
Nous sommes le 4 mars et il est 8h30 lorsque nous atterrissons à Irkoutsk. Nous avons volé durant plus de 10h heures et franchi 7 fuseaux horaires depuis Genève. Le pilote baragouine en anglais, impossible de comprendre la valeur de la température locale.
Dans le hall d’arrivée, nous rencontrons Olga, notre guide francophone. Un rapide détour aux toilettes pour enfiler des habits chauds, puis nous récupérons nos valises. Il manque celle d’Adrien, il remplit donc avec l’aide d’Olga un formulaire pour déclarer la perte. Nous croisons les doigts et espérons la récupérer demain.
A peine sortis de l’aéroport, le froid nous saisit. Olga nous regarde avec un sourire et nous annonce : Bienvenue à Irkoutsk, aujourd’hui il fait moins 24 °C !
Petite pensée pour notre entourage, qui n’a pas compris notre souhait de découvrir la Sibérie en plein hiver : « Vous êtes toujours aussi cinglés ! La Sibérie, en hiver…. Mais pourquoi ? » A leur décharge, nous avons parcouru le Groenland en kayak lors de nos dernières vacances (voir notre carnet « Kayak au Groenland ») et nous nous étions promis de partir au chaud. La vie est pleine de surprises !
Nous montons à bord d’un minibus surchauffé et commençons un tour de ville. Un premier arrêt pour découvrir le quartier des 3 églises (orthodoxe et chrétiennes)
et les rives fumantes de l’Angara.
En amont, un barrage réchauffe l’eau du fleuve, qui fume au contact de l’air froid.
Nous continuons notre visite, découvrons plusieurs monuments puis une courte marche nous amène au pied de la statue d’Alexandre III. Après un court trajet en minibus, nous rejoignons le musée des Décembristes. Petit résumé historique : Les insurgés de 1825 furent condamnés au goulag et à une vie entière en Sibérie. Ils furent pardonnés lors du couronnement du tsar Alexandre II en 1856 après des décennies d’exil.
Visite intéressante sur une époque importante de la Russie.
Nous visitons ensuite une petite partie du centre-ville, désert en ce dimanche matin.
Un trajet d’une heure en minibus et nous atteignons le musée Taltsy, reproduction des différents bâtiments historiques datant du dix-septième au vingtième siècle.
Malgré un froid mordant, nous découvrons les différentes architectures et sommes conviés à une représentation musicale d’une artiste locale. Nous découvrons également de superbes toboggans de glace et ne résistons pas à l’envie de nous élancer, assis sur de fines planches en bois souple. Nous nous réchauffons ensuite autour d’un repas, dans un petit café. Nous reprenons la route à travers de magnifiques forêts de bouleaux pour atteindre l’embouchure de l’Angara. Ce fleuve est le seul qui sort du lac Baïkal, alors que ce dernier possède 336 affluents permanents !
Nous admirons la vue splendide sur le lac gelé et sur le fleuve qui ne gèle jamais à l’embouchure. Sur la rive opposée de l’Angara, nous apercevons le village de Port Baïkal, distant d’un kilomètre.
Olga nous conte une légende la région. Un vieil homme barbu prénommé Baïkal était père de 336 fils et d’une seule fille nommé Angara. Ses fils étaient très économes, contrairement à sa fille, dépensière. Cette dernière tomba amoureuse de Ienisseï. Lorsqu’elle voulut le rejoindre, son père tenta de l’en empêcher un jetant un rocher, devenu aujourd’hui une petite île au centre de l’Angara.
Sa fille parvint à s’échapper pour rejoindre l’élu de son cœur. Cette légende raconte l’histoire du Baïkal. 336 affluents, 1 fleuve (Angara) qui en sort et qui rejoint le Ienisseï avant de se jeter dans l’océan arctique après presque 6’000 km.
Olga nous propose une modification du programme. Initialement, nous devions monter en télésiège au sommet du Mont Tchersky. Selon elle, le musée du Baïkal sera plus enrichissant. Nous voilà en route pour quelques kilomètres supplémentaires. Nous apprécions la visite du musée, très complet. Les chiffres donnent le vertige : la superficie du Baïkal équivaut à celle de la Belgique, la profondeur maximale est de 1’642 mètres, ce qui en fait le lac le plus profond mais également le plus volumineux au monde (260 fois le Lac Léman). Il est souvent surnommé « mer de Sibérie ».
Nous prenons ensuite place dans un laboratoire équipé de microscopes. Ils nous permettent de découvrir quelques espèces de micro-organismes et de crevettes vivant dans le Baïkal. La visite se termine par un minuscule aquarium, dans lequel nagent deux phoques de Sibérie, une espèce endémique du lac.
En été, il est très facile d’en apercevoir dans leur milieu naturel.
Quelques kilomètres supplémentaires nous permettent d’atteindre Listvyanka. Nous parcourrons les allées du marché (en plein air !) puis nous rejoignons la plage. Nous faisons nos premiers pas sur la glace !
A proximité, des aéroglisseurs font le plein de passagers. Ils remplacent les ferrys utilisés en été.
Nous croisons un véhicule « pur invention russe »
et rejoignons notre hôtel (Chalet Listvyanka). L’aéroport a contacté Olga, nous récupérerons demain la valise d’Adrien. Un rapide souper puis nous filons nous coucher. Nous avons très peu dormi lors des vols et les 7 heures de décalages horaires se font sentir.
Le lundi, après un solide petit-déjeuner, nous nous équipons au maximum. Tous nos habits chauds y passent. 2h en motoneige nous attendent, il fait -28°C.
Avant le départ, l’on nous fournit un pantalon et une veste supplémentaire. Le bonhomme Michelin n’a qu’à bien se tenir, la concurrence est là !
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Nous enfilons des casques puis nous chevauchons les machines de 570 cm3. Olga prend place derrière le guide, tandis que nous nous répartissons sur deux autres machines. Gaz !!
Motards accomplis, Adrien et moi partons l’esprit serein. Le premier virage nous fera revenir sur Terre sans détour. Purée, ça tourne pas bien ! Nous traversons le village puis nous nous enfonçons dans la forêt. La piste est tracée, succession de bosses et de creux dans un paysage hivernal sublime. Après quelques photos à l’occasion d’une pause, nous repartons. Jeannette pilote, je tente de filmer. Elle a très vite compris le principe : accélérer sur une bosse pour faire décoller la motoneige (et la passagère) de quelques centimètres. Nous rigolons bien, aucune vidéo ne sera stable. Peu importe, nous préférons nous amuser.
Nous faisons une nouvelle pause pour admirer des sculptures de glace.
Nous traversons à nouveau le village pour atteindre le lac. 50 km nous séparent de la rive opposée. Enfin, nous pouvons accélérer ! Une joyeuse course s’engage jusqu’à atteindre l’embouchure de l’Angara. Nous approchons timidement du bord à pied.
Le guide nous rassure, la glace est solide même tout près de la zone non gelée.
Nous faisons demi-tour et rejoignons à toute vitesse le village. Nous n’avons pas ressenti le froid grâce à nos tenues « bonhomme Michelin », à la très grande bulle protectrice et aux poignées chauffantes. Nous rejoignons notre hôtel puis nous embarquons dans un minibus pour rejoindre Irkoutsk. Nous faisons la connaissance d’un nouveau chauffeur. Sa carrure est impressionnante, ses épaules dépassent de chaque côté de son siège et ses mains sont gigantesques. L’autocollant apposé sur la vitre arrière du véhicule nous intrigue.
Nous apprenons qu’il annonce la présence de pneus clou sur la voiture.
Un rapide passage à l’aéroport nous permet de récupérer la valise d’Adrien puis nous filons plein Est. 300 km nous séparent de Khuzhir. Les vitres du minibus gèlent à l’intérieur… nous grattons le givre pour apercevoir le paysage.
Nous faisons halte à midi dans un restaurant bouriate et dégustons l’une de leur spécialité : les Buuza. Il s’agit d’une sorte de raviole géante remplie de viande ou de légumes.
La viande baigne dans une sauce qu’il faut aspirer grâce au petit trou au sommet de la raviole.
Nous repartons et atteignons la rive du Baïkal alors que la nuit tombe. Le chauffeur ralentit puis s’engage sur la glace. Incroyable ! En minibus sur l’eau. La traversée de 12 km permet de rejoindre l’île d’Olkhon, desservie par un ferry en été. Nous « accostons » et roulons sur une piste défoncée. Des blocs de glace barrent le passage, le chauffeur sort et les lance sur le bas-côté avec une facilité déconcertante. Il est balèze !
Nous comprenons rapidement qu’il n’existe aucune route goudronnée sur l’île. Nous sommes secoués durant 35 kilomètres. Il nous faudra une heure pour rejoindre l’hôtel (Mini-Hotel Lada). Le chauffage de notre chambre n’a pas été enclenché, il fait 7°C. Nous l’allumons à fond avant de souper au restaurant de l’hôtel. De retour dans notre chambre, la température a à peine augmenté. Nous passons tout de même une bonne nuit.
La journée de mardi est consacrée à la visite du village et des environs immédiats de Khuzhir. Il fait -28°C, nous nous habillons chaudement et visitons le village en marchant, guidés par Olga.
Nous visitons le supermarché, encore en mode soviétique. On y trouve de tout, de la farine aux aimants, en passant par le robot de cuisine et les feutres indélébiles.
Nous atteignons ensuite le rocher des chamans, géographiquement nommé Cap Burkhan.
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Il s’agit d’un haut lieu du chamanisme. Les morceaux de tissus qui flottent dans le vent apportent des prières aux Dieux.
Nous subissons les rafales de vent et repartons en direction du village pour nous protéger des bourrasques. Il fait si froid que de la glace se forme sur nos cils.
Un rapide passage dans une galerie d’art permet de nous réchauffer, puis nous partons à la découverte du port. Drôle d’ambiance….
Nous traversons à nouveau le village dans toute sa longueur pour trouver un café ouvert.
Nous nous régalons d’un plat d’omoul, le poisson du lac et d’un délicieux cornet à la crème. L’après-midi étant libre, nous laissons Olga retourner à l’hôtel et nous nous dirigeons vers le lac. Après avoir traversé une forêt de pins sibériens, nous atteignons la plage.
La neige crisse sous nos pieds. Du sable fin est partiellement recouvert de neige, le filet de beach-volley attend le retour des touristes estivaux.
En été, la température atteint 35°C. L’amplitude de températures est extrême !
Nous marchons sur la glace, en partie recouverte de neige. Chaque glaçon devient le sujet d’une photo plus ou moins artistique. Nous traversons une faille étroite mais qui s’étend sur plusieurs centaines de mètres.
Par moment, de gros craquements résonnent sous nos pieds. Nous restons interdits quelques secondes puis continuons notre inspection. Nous passons près de deux heures sur la glace avant de rejoindre l’hôtel.
Après le repas, Adrien retourne au bord du lac pour photographier le ciel nocturne pendant que nous discutons au restaurant avec Fiodor, un guide de passage.
C’est notre dernière soirée avec Olga, elle sera remplacée demain par l’une de ses collègues.
Le lendemain, nous attendons 11h l’arrivée de notre nouvelle guide, Nadya, et de notre chauffeur du jour. Ils arrivent pile à l’heure, dans un superbe UAZ.
Nous chargeons nos valises et grimpons à bord. Le plafond est capitonné, tout est rustique et parfaitement d’époque.
Un coup d’œil par-dessus l’épaule de Sasha, le chauffeur, me permet de voir le compteur kilométrique. 84'000 km….. bizarre…. Nouveau coup d’œil : c’est bien 84'000, mais le compteur ne permet l’affichage que de 5 chiffres. Difficile de savoir le nombre de centaines de milliers de kilomètres qu’il faut ajouter à l’affichage !
Nous prenons une piste plein Nord et rejoignons progressivement la côte Est de l’île.
Nous voyons un renard filer à toute allure avant de nous engager dans une belle forêt. L’état de la piste se dégrade et nous sommes ballotés dans les tous les sens. Le UAZ démontre ses capacités au tout terrain. Après 1h de piste, nous atteignons la rive du Baïkal.
Le chauffeur donne ses consignes à Nadya, qui nous les traduit dans un excellent français. Nous attendons un second véhicule, il est dangereux de circuler seul sur le lac. Dès le moment où nous nous engagerons sur les glaces du Baïkal, nous devons garder tous nos vêtements sur nous. Il nous est également interdit d’attacher nos ceintures. Sasha nous explique que la poignée de la porte s’ouvre vers le haut. Toutes ces consignes n’ont qu’un seul but : éviter les problèmes dans le cas où la voiture coulerait. Nous voilà moyennement rassurés, nos discussions d’hier soir nous ont appris qu’un minibus de touristes avait coulé il y a 3 jours, heureusement sans faire de victimes.
Nous faisons rapidement connaissance avec le couple de français présents dans le minibus qui vient de nous rejoindre puis nous partons à l’assaut du lac. Aucun de nous 3 ne dis un seul mot, le UAZ s’engage sur la glace.
Les pneus clous adhèrent, la glace ne craque pas, le véhicule ne subit plus la piste défoncée. Après à peine deux cents mètres, premier arrêt à côté d’un Trekol appartenant au ministère des situations d’urgence.
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Pendant que les chauffeurs papotent, nous partons à la découverte de la glace. Elle n’est pas recouverte de neige, le paysage est incroyable !
Les photos s’enchainement à toute vitesse, nous glissons d’une curiosité à l’autre.
Un coup de klaxon sonne l’heure du départ et nous remontons dans le UAZ. Devant nous, ce sont près de 90 kilomètres de glace à traverser avant d’atteindre la rive opposée. Aucune piste officielle n’existe. Des sapins plantés dans la glace tous les 300 mètres environ indiquent un itinéraire approximatif. A plusieurs reprises, Sasha fera marche arrière et sélectionnera un autre point de passage pour traverser des failles.
Nouvel arrêt, Olga nous traduit les paroles du chauffeur : glace noire. Interloqués, nous ouvrons la porte et restons sans voix.
La glace est d’une pureté parfaite et agit comme un miroir.
Je pose prudemment un pied sur ce sol étrange, il est bien « palpable ». Nous faisons quelques pas crispés, presque rassuré de suivre les failles qui semblent donner de la consistance à ce sol invisible.
Après quelques instants, nous sommes à nouveaux surexcités et glissons d’une faille à l’autre.
Nous y sommes enfin ! Sur les glaces du Baïkal ! Le moment est magique et nous le savourons à fond.
Abrité du vent derrière le UAZ, les chauffeurs préparent un pic-nic. Les mains nues, ils coupent du pain, déballent de la nourriture, alignent les gobelets de thé.
Nous peinons à sortir nos doigts de nos gants tant le froid est mordant (-30°C aujourd’hui, auxquels il faut ajouter un vent de 30 km/h).
Nous mangeons rapidement puis Sasha commence à creuser un trou dans la glace à l’aide d’une tarière.
L’outil s’enfonce, s’enfonce, s’enfonce encore. Après plus d’un mètre, il atteint l’eau !
Nous la goûtons du bout des doigts avant d’inventer de nouvelles expériences. Nous plaçons nos pieds dans la petite flaque à côté du trou et ne bougeons plus. En quelques secondes, nos pieds sont « collés » au sol !
Nous créons également des semelles glissantes. Tremper chaque pied dans la flaque puis attendre avec la semelle en l’air. Une fine couche de la glace se forme et nous patinons sur la plus grande patinoire au monde. Incroyable sentiment de liberté et d’espace !
A proximité, une faille a soulevé d’énormes morceaux de glace. Nous ne résistons pas à l’envie d’y grimper.
Nouveau coup de klaxon, nous repartons pour plusieurs kilomètres. Un nouvel arrêt nous permet de visiter rapidement un camp de tente utilisé par l’agence Baïkal Nature.
Nous continuons notre périple quand une nouvelle faille se présente. Le choc est inhabituellement violent.
Le chauffeur sort pour inspecter la zone, nous faisons de même. Alors que tout le monde s’affaire au niveau de la piste de glace, ma maman et moi nous rapprochons de la faille. Large d’une trentaine de centimètre, elle s’étire sur plusieurs centaines de mètres. Jeannette propose d’y jeter un bloc de glace pour tester la solidité. Je tâte du pied puis, confiante, je m’élance sans attendre son test : tu vois, ça tiens, c’est solide ! Je fais quelques pas sur la faille quand soudain : CRAC ! Mon pied droit passe au travers de la (trop !) fine couche de glace. Je retire immédiatement ma jambe et constate un étrange phénomène : Je ne ressens ni le froid ni l’humidité. Dans le même temps, Jeannette bondit pour me saisir à la taille et nous projeter loin de la faille, en sécurité. Nous trébuchons et atterrissons à plat ventre, en riant aux éclats !
Que d’émotions ! Nous inspectons ensuite ma jambe, qui a trempé dans le Baïkal jusqu’en dessous du genou. De la glace recouvre mon pantalon, l’eau a gelé instantanément au contact de l’air.
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Petite pensée pour notre entourage, qui n’a pas compris notre souhait de découvrir la Sibérie en plein hiver : « Vous êtes toujours aussi cinglés ! La Sibérie, en hiver…. Mais pourquoi ?
depuis mon séjour sur les rives du Baïkal pendant l'hiver 2016, je rêve d'y retourner ! Vos photos donnent une idée du pourquoi. Mais s'y trouver pour de bon, c'est encore mieux !
Je découvre ce carnet qui correspond à mon projet et mes rêves. Je vais passer une agréable après midi à le lire, il a l'air bien appétissant.
Je fais tout de suite une remarque importante: Ne faites jamais voyager vos passeports par la Poste! Le seul moyen acceptable c'est UPS ou autres.
Une amie a récemment laissé filer le Transibérien, pour avoir fait confiance à la Poste française!!!
Nos passeports ont été envoyés de l'ambassade de Bern à notre domicile par courrier recommandé et contre signature. Très peu de chance qu'il se perdent. Néanmoins, la remarque est bonne à prendre pour une prochaine fois !
Bonne lecture, la suite arrive petit à petit !
Estelle
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Ce n’est que de retour dans le UAZ, chauffé, que la glace fond ! Par chance, il s’agit là de la dernière sortie de la journée. Nous atteignons bientôt le village de Oust-Bargouzine. Avec les différents arrêts, il nous aura fallu 4h pour traverser le lac. Nous sommes à présent en République de Bouriatie. Près de 25% de la population est d’origine Mongole.
Nous rencontrons Sasha et Natalie, chez qui nous passerons la nuit en compagnie de notre guide.
Leur maison est moderne, nous prenons possession de nos chambres puis nous nous retrouvons pour le repas. Selon la tradition, la table doit être aussi remplie que possible, pour recevoir le visiteur le plus chaleureusement possible.
Natalie charge donc la table avec les entrées (soupe), le plat, le dessert et les boissons. Sascha ne déroge pas à la tradition et ouvre une bouteille de Samagone. Il s’agit du nom russe qui désigne une vodka faite maison.
La première tournée (cul sec) est dédiée à la rencontre ! La boisson nous brûle la gorge. La seconde tournée (encore cul sec) est dédiée à l’amitié et la troisième (toujours cul sec), main droite sur le cœur, à l’amour. Je me suis arrêtée à la première tournée. Adrien et Jeannette ont suivi le rythme et n’ont pas souffert de gueule de bois. Selon nos hôtes, la vodka commerciale, à base de pommes de terre, est de mauvaise qualité, contrairement à la production familiale, à base de blé. Nous passons une excellente soirée et échangeons énormément sur nos cultures et pays respectifs.
Le jeudi 8 mars, nous rencontrons Kesha, qui sera notre chauffeur pour la journée. La journée est particulière en Russie, c’est la journée de la femme. Ma maman et moi serons systématiquement félicitées par tous les hommes rencontrés durant la journée : bonne journée de la femme ! La légende raconte que lors de la journée de l’homme, le 23 février, les femmes offrent des chaussettes. En échange, pour la journée de la femme, elles espèrent recevoir des diamants.😉
Nous grimpons dans un Toyota Land Cruiser et partons en direction de la baie de Tchivyrkouïski.
Pour la première fois depuis notre arrivée en Russie, le ciel est couvert, il fait moins 18, ce qui nous semble presque chaud. Après un rapide arrêt pour payer l’entrée au parc national, nous poursuivons notre route. Nous longeons le Baïkal au travers d’une forêt de pins sibériens. En été, la zone est appréciée pour ses plages de sable et ses terrains de camping. Nous faisons une halte à proximité d’un mirador
puis, plus loin, vers un lieu de recueillement chamanique.
Après avoir traversé la langue de terre qui relie la presqu’île à la ville, nous atteignons la baie de Tchivyrkouïski. Un escalier de 336 marches (encore un clin d’œil aux affluents du Baïkal) rejoint un point de vue.
Nous nous engageons ensuite sur la piste de glace, recouverte de neige. Alexis nous dépose près d’une île. Il la contourne ensuite pour nous attendre plus loin. Nous visitons de superbes grottes de glace.
Une petite balade nous permet de rejoindre le Toyota. En été, les arbres de l’île sont occupés par des colonies de cormorans.
Nous rejoignons ensuite les sources thermales de la baie des Serpents. Tout est très rustique, nous devons nous déshabiller derrière une simple palissade en bois avant de rejoindre un petit bassin, où l’eau s’écoule à 30°C. Nous profitons de l’eau chaude malgré la forte odeur de soufre.
Viens ensuite le moment de sortir de l’eau. Il fait -15°C, nous courrons jusqu’à la palissade, enlevons nos maillots de bain et tentons de nous habiller le plus rapidement possible. A peine le maillot de bain retiré, nous claquons des dents et tremblons comme des feuilles. Vite, un bonnet, vite le pull, vite le pantalon, vite la doudoune. Une fois habillée, je continue de trembler. Je me rends alors compte que c’est nerveux. Je n’ai froid qu’aux mains, tout le reste de mon corps réagit au choc de température. 45 degrés en moins, c’est violent. Nous découvrons ensuite ce qu’il est advenu de nos maillots, déposés sur la palissade. Une stalactite de glace s’est formée, les bonnets des soutiens-gorge sont durs…. comme de la glace !
Nous remontons dans le Toyota et roulons jusqu’à une yourte de pêcheurs.
Le ciel couvert se confond avec l’horizon, tout est blanc.
Dans la yourte, 6 lits sont disposés, chacun avec son trou dans la glace.
Un poêle à bois apporte une chaleur appréciée. Nous pique-niquons en compagnie de Nadya et Kesha.
Nous visitons ensuite le camp de pêcheurs puis nous rejoignons un petit village comptant à peine 20 habitants. Il n’est relié à aucune route. Alarme incendie du village...
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Ma remarque valait pour la Poste Française. Le recommande AR n'a pas empêché le désastre.
Ceci dit les Consulats russes emploient des sous traitants, cela se passe bien. Quant à l'invitation elle arrive automatiquement quand on fait une résa sur Booking.
Nous parcourrons la route en sens inverse pour rejoindre la GuestHouse et passons à nouveau une formidable soirée en compagnie de Nadya, Natalie et Sascha. L’alcool aidant, nous parvenons à nous comprendre par gestes et par mimes sans l’aide de notre traductrice, les rires fusent jusque tard dans la nuit.
Le lendemain, il neige et il ne fait « que » -8°C. La neige est bizarre, elle se dépose sur les épaules mais ne fond pas. Il suffit de frotter pour qu’elle tombe. Kesha nous sert à nouveau de chauffeur et nous rejoignons le Golfe de Bargouzine pour pêcher.
Des petites cahutes en boites sont disséminées sur la glace.
Kesha utilise une tarière pour percer l’épaisse couche de glace. Il lance ensuite une petite poignée de crevettes vivante dans le trou pour attirer les poissons.
Munis de minuscule cannes à pêches en plastique, nous nous relayons au bord du trou….. sans succès !
Après avoir parlementé avec un ami, Kesha nous invite à le rejoindre dans une petite cabane.
Le confort est sommaire, il n’y a pas de plancher mais un petit poêle à bois réchauffe l’atmosphère. Le pêcheur est un habitué, il vient tous les jours. A grand renfort de poignées de crevettes, Adrien parvient à pêcher 3 poissons, qu’il ajoute aux nombreuses autres prises de la journée.
Nous sommes heureux de cette expérience, bien qu’étant trop hyperactifs pour parvenir à patienter de longues heures à côté du trou.
Nous rebroussons chemin en voiture et traversons une superbe forêt de bouleaux enneigés.
Après un bon repas de midi chez Natalie et Sasha, nous rencontrons un nouveau chauffeur et embarquons dans un minibus 9 places. Un long trajet (270 km) nous permet de rejoindre Oulan-Oude, capitale de la République de Bouriatie. Nous traversons de gigantesques foret, très rarement interrompues par de petits villages.
Nous déposons nos bagages au Baïkal Plaza, puis Nadya nous fournit un plan de ville et quelques explications. Nous partons tous les trois à la découverte de cette ville de 40'000 habitants.
Nous commençons par la place des Soviets et l’énorme tête de Lénine.
Nous poursuivons avec ce personnage et découvrons la rue Lénine, rue piétonne dans laquelle nous flânons dans quelques magasins de souvenirs.
Nous poursuivons jusqu’à une église orthodoxe puis par un marché.
Nous rentrons ensuite rapidement à l’hôtel, nous avons rendez-vous avec Nadya pour le repas. Après un excellent souper, nous passons une nuit perturbée par le bruit des trams hors d’âge.
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Pour notre dernier jour de visite, nous poursuivons notre visite du centre-ville à trois. A 11h, nous retrouvons Nadya et le chauffeur, qui nous emmène au Datsan d'Ivolguinsk.
Nous visitons ce temple bouddhiste et en apprenons davantage sur cette religion grâce aux explication de notre guide, elle-même bouddhiste.
Les tables regorgent d’offrandes en tout genres et les psaumes sont récités en tibétain, langue qu’aucun fidèle ne comprend. Nous sommes un peu déçus par l’interdiction de faire des photos à l’intérieur des temples, les décors sont somptueux.
Nous retournons ensuite à proximité d’Oulan-Oude et mangeons dans un restaurant bondé. Nous sommes samedi et les habitants profitent de sortir malgré le ciel un peu voilé. Il ne fait que -10°C, nous supportons très bien la température.
Nous rejoignons ensuite le lieu de notre dernière activité. Une balade en chien de traineaux.
A peine arrivés, nous sommes perplexes. Il n’y a qu’un seul traineau et les environs se résument à un terrain de football entouré d’une piste de glace. Nous qui rêvions d’une balade en forêt, cela semble compromis. La propriétaire des chiens demande à sa fille d’emmener la meute et le traineau pour un tour de chauffe autour du terrain de foot. Nos mines se décomposent : tourner autour d’un terrain, à proximité immédiate de la route ? Bof…
Nadya nous traduit ensuite les consignes : je dois me mettre debout derrière le traineau. Stop stop stop ! Je dois conduire cette meute de chiens surexcités ? Apparemment oui. Ma maman prend place dans le traineau et j’écoute attentivement les consignes traduites par Nadya. Poser les pieds sur les patins, freiner en appuyant sur levier central, se pencher dans les virages et hurler : Ralaï Mars ! Ralaï qui ne veut rien dire mais fais avancer le chien et Mars, nom du chien dominant qui dirige la meute.
Je ne fais pas la maline, ma maman s’agrippe au montants en bois du traineau, puis l’ancre qui retient les chiens est relevée et nous partons !
La vitesse nous surprend mais après quelques dizaines de mètres, les chiens ralentissent. Ils ont bien compris qu’ils avaient à faire à une novice et semblent vouloir en profiter pour se balader à leur rythme. Surgit alors à côté de nous la voiture de la propriétaire, qui hurle Ralaï, ralaï, ralaï par sa fenêtre ouverte. Les chiens reprennent leur course et le premier virage approche. Le mari de la propriétaire nous y attend et hurle à son tour. Nouvelle accélération, je braille à mon tour (sans effet vraiment concluant). Nous rions et nous amusons beaucoup. A la fin du premier tour, nous nous arrêtons et échangeons nos places.
Nous profitons de plusieurs tours de pistes, tantôt musher, tantôt passager.
Mon cri s’améliore et je finis par brailler efficacement (ce qui me vaudra un mal de gorge de plusieurs jours, il fait toujours -10°C). Nous rions aux éclats et tentons de maitriser le traineau et les chiens.
Après de nombreux tours, nous caressons et félicitons chaque chien. Ils sont bien plus calmes, ce qui nous permet de les approcher sans appréhension.
Au final, même si nous rêvions d’une balade dans les bois, nous avons apprécié l’expérience et surtout le fait de pouvoir diriger (ou du moins essayer de diriger) le traineau par nous-même.
Nous repartons ensuite en voiture, faisons quelques achats au supermarché puis profitons d’un rapide tour de ville. Après une pause thé dans un petit café, nous remercions et quittons Nadya. Alexis, notre chauffeur, nous emmène à la gare. Son aide est indispensable pour trouver notre wagon et notre compartiment.
Il nous aide à transporter nos valises puis nous salue depuis le quai. Nous sommes à bord du célèbre Transsibérien, le départ est donné à 19h35.
Notre compartiment est composé de 4 couchettes, l’agence nous l’a privatisé, nous n’avons pas à partager. Il fait une chaleur étouffante dans le wagon, impossible d’ouvrir la fenêtre ou de baisser le radiateur, nous supportons difficilement. Alors que nous pique-niquons, la responsable du wagon nous apporte 3 plateaux repas. Nous l’avons déjà croisée à quelques reprises. Elle n’est pas très sympathique et ne fais aucun effort pour se faire comprendre. Par le moindre geste, pas le moindre mime pour s’expliquer. Nous ne savions pas que le repas du soir était compris dans le prix. Ce n’est pas plus mal, car il est infect. Nous continuons avec notre pique-nique et finissons par nous installer pour notre courte nuit. Le bruit, les vibrations et la température ne nous permettront pas de trouver un sommeil réparateur. Vers 2h45, la responsable du wagon ouvre la porte de notre compartiment. Nous comprenons que nous allons bientôt arriver à destination. Nous rangeons tranquillement nos affaires, ce qui lui déplait. C’est à son agacement que nous comprenons que nous devons nous dépêcher, elle souhaite remplacer tous les draps de lit avant notre arrivée en gare d’Irkoutsk. Nous attendons dans le couloir et débarquons à 3h17.
Après avoir traversé la gare, nous nous retrouvons sur le parking désert, où un chauffeur est censé nous attendre. Personne. Nous patientons quelques instants quand soudain un colosse surgit derrière nous et emporte la valise de Jeannette. Nous tentons de protester, pensant avoir affaire à un taximan avant de reconnaitre le russe baraqué qui nous avait conduit jusqu’à l’île d’Olkhon. Un rapide trajet en minibus et nous arrivons à l’aéroport. Nous devons patienter jusqu’à 9h55. Nous somnolons à tour de rôle sur des bancs inconfortables. C’est là la seule erreur de l’agence. Il existe un train qui arrive 7h, ce qui, nous l’avons constaté, est amplement suffisamment pour correspondre au vol de 9h55.
Après une escale à l’aéroport Sheremetyevo de Moscou, nous atterrissons à Genève à 14h55.
En conclusion, un excellent séjour. Nous avons grandement apprécié l’aide constante de nos guides, la communication étant très difficile avec les russes. Nos connaissances d’anglais, d’espagnol et d’allemand ne nous ont été d’aucune aide. Malgré quelques à priori, les russes sont des gens ouverts et intéressés par les autres cultures. Les paysages sont sublimes et souvent sauvages.
Si nous devions y retourner, nous ajouterions une nuit sous tente/yourte sur la glace du Baïkal.
Nous avons eu recours à l’agence Artel Troika pour l’organisation de ce voyage. Il nous a coûté 2'414 CHF (+ le vol à 737 CHF) par personne pour un voyage sur mesure et privé. Il est tout à fait possible de partir pour moins cher en intégrant un voyage de groupe. Attention au visa, cher et long à obtenir.
Aucun problème avec nos vols Aeroflot. Une carte décrit les 2 menus à choix et le nombre de calories est inscrit sous chaque plat…. Bizarre.
Nous avons emporté 2.5 kg de chocolat suisse dans nos valises. Un cadeau très apprécié que nous avons largement distribué à nos chauffeurs, guides et hôtes.
A bientôt pour un prochain carnet….. en Afrique Australe !
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Merci pour le partage de ce magnifique carnet. Ça me rappelle de bons souvenirs !
On ressent la tension que vous avez dû éprouver lorsque vous avez circulé sur le lac Baïlkal gelé. Incroyable la pureté de la glace, ce lac est une vraie merveille !
www.recoinsdumonde.com
"L’homme libre est celui qui n’a pas peur d’aller jusqu’au bout de sa pensée" - Léon Blum
Merci pour ce récit très bien détaillé et toutes ces superbes photos qui nous ont fait bien voyager ! Les cils gelés, cela me rappelle notre voyage en Laponie.
Fascinée par la Russie je lis tout ce qui s'y rapporte sur VF, et votre carnet m'a vraiment fait voyager au cœur de ce pays si grand ! Je ne sais pas si j'irais un jour en Sibérie, surtout l'hiver (rien que de lire -30 j'ai froid...) alors j'ai pris plaisir à découvrir tout ceci par procuration et regarder vos superbes photos !
Au cas où, quelques questions quand même :
- Niveau vêtements, vous avez emmené quoi ? On voit un peu sur les photos mais en détails ? Il faut prévoir un gros budget pour ce genre de vêtements ? Du coup c'était supportable dehors ? Je n'ai jamais été confronté à de telles températures alors je n'ai aucune idée de comment on s'équipe. J'aimerais déjà faire un tour en Russie l'hiver (pas en Sibérie pour le moment) et c'est la grande question, même si à SP, Moscou et alentours il fait moins froid.
- Sur l'excursion du Baïkal (magnifique cette glace !) il y avait moyen de faire une pause pipi ? Ça peut paraître idiot comme question mais ma vessie n'a pas une autonomie de 4h, encore moins dans le froid après avoir bu du thé.
- Est-ce possible de faire tout ça sans passer par une agence ?
Sur l'excursion du Baïkal (magnifique cette glace !) il y avait moyen de faire une pause pipi ?
les pêcheurs le font... Tant que les touristes ne sont pas trop nombreux, ça se fait aussi. Mais faut pas traîner longtemps fesses à l'air, surtout quand il y a du vent !
Est-ce possible de faire tout ça sans passer par une agence ?
oui mais pour rouler sur le lac, je conseillerais de faire appel à un guide local bien renseigné sur l'emplacement des failles et des zones où la glace est moins épaisse. Ou alors, rester sur les tronçons balisés et fréquentés près de la côte et du détroit des Portes d'Olhkon.
magnifique cette glace !
oui ! Notez quand même qu'elle peut être couverte de neige (manteau neigeux inhomogène, en fonction des vents : se renseigner localement), ou opacifiée en début de fonte. Fin février / début mars est généralement une belle période.
Niveau vêtements, vous avez emmené quoi ?
je laisserai Estelle répondre. Perso, j'avais emporté mes vêtements de ski de rando, plus quelques extras (moufles duvet, bottes fourrées feutre...). Je ne suis pas frileuse, mais je voulais pouvoir tenir la journée dehors, donc mon cas n'est pas forcément très représentatif.
Pipi devant tout le monde ? 😮 Oui les fesses à l'air ce doit être dur... pour moi qui passe ma vie aux toilettes, horreur !
Il est hors de question de conduire en Russie de toute façon, donc oui, chauffeur local, mais je pensais plutôt par rapport à l'organisation en fait. Il faut aussi pouvoir trouver le chauffeur, même s'il existe des applis spécialisées je pense qu'à ce niveau-là c'est pas pareil...
Tu n'avais pas froid au visage ? (la partie la plus difficile à couvrir).
Tu n'avais pas froid au visage ? (la partie la plus difficile à couvrir).
bien sûr, ça pique un peu quand il fait -30°C. Notez quand même qu'en mars, dans le sud de la Sibérie, vous aurez plus souvent -10°C que -30°C en journée.
Je portais des lunettes de soleil à indice variable (peu opaques par temps couvert) pour couper le vent, un bonnet, et un tour de cou en laine ou en polaire coupe-vent (selon la météo) que je pouvais remonter jusqu'au nez, voire jusqu'aux lunettes. Au besoin si conditions vraiment dures (froid + vent), un masque de ski. Attention, si on se couvre trop, on a de la condensation de vapeur d'eau en particulier au niveau du nez, ce n'est pas agréable. On dose au feeling.
Mais bon, c'est un froid sec, pas si difficile à supporter si on n'a pas de problème de circulation. Penser au proverbe qui dit qu'il n'y a pas de mauvais temps, il n'y a que de mauvais vêtements (c'est optimiste, mais y a un petit fond de vrai...)
Pipi devant tout le monde ? 😮
ça choque moins en Sibérie qu'ici. Ils ont l'habitude de se mettre à poil dans les vestiaires des saunas.
En fait j'ai "peur" car j'ai fini à tallinn fin septembre il faisait 8 mais très humide su vent et j'ai eu l'impression de me transformer en glaçon surtout au visage. J'avais une chapka et une grosse écharpe que je montais jusqu'au nez et en effet je sentais la condensation du coup pour -20 j'ai peur !
En effet j'ai des problèmes de circulation mais aux jambes d'où mes interrogations.
Fascinée par la Russie je lis tout ce qui s'y rapporte sur VF, et votre carnet m'a vraiment fait voyager au cœur de ce pays si grand ! Je ne sais pas si j'irais un jour en Sibérie, surtout l'hiver (rien que de lire -30 j'ai froid...) alors j'ai pris plaisir à découvrir tout ceci par procuration et regarder vos superbes photos !
Au cas où, quelques questions quand même :
- Niveau vêtements, vous avez emmené quoi ? On voit un peu sur les photos mais en détails ? Il faut prévoir un gros budget pour ce genre de vêtements ? Du coup c'était supportable dehors ? Je n'ai jamais été confronté à de telles températures alors je n'ai aucune idée de comment on s'équipe. J'aimerais déjà faire un tour en Russie l'hiver (pas en Sibérie pour le moment) et c'est la grande question, même si à SP, Moscou et alentours il fait moins froid.
- Sur l'excursion du Baïkal (magnifique cette glace !) il y avait moyen de faire une pause pipi ? Ça peut paraître idiot comme question mais ma vessie n'a pas une autonomie de 4h, encore moins dans le froid apr��s avoir bu du thé.
Bonjour Miranda,
Merci pour vos commentaires. Je ne vais répondre qu'à quelques questions puisque Meg2 s'est chargée de répondre à ma place.
Pour les pauses pipi, il est possible de s'abriter derrière des blocs de glace soulevés par une faille ou derrière le véhicule. Le plus dur étant bien évidemment d'avoir les fesses à l'air par moins 30 degrés.
Niveau équipement, nous avons emportés : des sous-vetêments thermiques (type Odlo extra-warm), pull polaire, doudonne, veste coupe-vent, pantalon de ski, tour de cou en polaire, écharpe, bonnet, gants de ski, chaussettes en laine, chaussures d'hiver (utilisée pour la raquette à neige), masque de ski et lunettes de soleil. Le technique de l'oignon (couche sur couche sur couche) est indispensable, tout comme le fait de privilégier un matériel de qualité. Amateurs de sports d'hiver, nous n'avons pas acheté de matériel spécifique pour ce séjour.
Pour protéger mon visage, j'utilisais le tour de cou en polaire que je remontais sur mon nez. Des lunettes de soleil ou le masque de ski faisait l'affaire pour le haut du visage. A noter qu'il existe des masques de ski avec tour de cou intégré. Tout le visage est couvert !
Il est également possible d'emporter des chaufferettes pour se réchauffer. Malgré tout cet attirail, j'ai eu froid aux pieds tous les jours (je suis sensible donc je courrais sur place pour me réchauffer). Le programme était bien pensé, nous n'avons que peu souffert du froid. Il est presque toujours possible de s'abriter dans la voiture, de trouver un café à proximité ou de courir quelques mètres et s'agiter pour se réchauffer.
Comme expliqué, le froid sec est plus supportable.
A bientôt
Estelle
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
En effet, ça en fait des couches 😮
Je n'ai rien de tout ça, vous savez combien ça peut couter du coup pour s'équiper ? (je n'ai jamais été au sport d'hiver ou dans le grand froid).
Le budget peut malheureusement monter très vite. Je pense que l'équipement complet avoisine les 1000-1500 euros. L'idéal est de trouver un magasin de déstockage ou de profiter de tout acheter au printemps, lors des soldes.
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
Ah oui pour moi c'est carrément le cout de mon dernier voyage d'un mois en Russie 😮 J'avoue je ne mettrai pas cette somme pour des vêtements pour UN voyage.
Oui, il est possible de se débrouiller seul. Nous avons profité de l'aide de notre chauffeur pour trouver notre wagon et notre compartiment. Je suis persuadée qu'en présentant votre billet aux agents du train ils vous aideront à trouver votre siège.
L'employée en charge de notre wagon était antipathique, ce qui n'est sans doute pas une généralité. Vous trouverez toujours quelqu'un pour vous aider.
Bonne journée
Estelle
Estelle
- 6 mois à moto en Amérique du Sud
- Groenland en kayak -
- Namibie et Botswana en 4x4 -
- Islande à moto -
que voulez-vous dire par "circuler vers le Baïkal" ?
Si vous voulez visiter les villages riverains, aucun problème, il y a chaque jour des marshrutkas (minibus) qui partent du marché central à Irkoutsk, c'est faisable même sans réservation. Il y a des gîtes et hôtels-restaurants, notamment à Listvyanka (embouchure de l'Angara) et à Khuzhir (île d'Olkhon), rarement tous pleins, à proximité des terminus de marshrutkas. Ca permet déjà d'avoir un bel aperçu de la glace du Baïkal.
Si c'est rouler sur le lac, je réponds comme Estelle : attention, il y a chaque année quelques voitures (ou plus rarement un cycliste ou un piéton...) qui passent à travers la glace. Certains naufragés s'en tirent indemnes ou presque, d'autres finissent noyés et/ou congelés. Les emplacements à risque aussi bien que la période gel / dégel varient un peu d'une saison sur l'autre —> ne pas se contenter de renseignements approximatifs ou de blogs des années précédentes...
Non. Je ne prévois pas d'aller sur le lac gelé tout seul. 😉
Ce n'était pas prévu non plus. Mais en découvrant de carnet, cela m'a juste plu et je me suis dit que je pourrais y faire une halte. La seul chose de prévu est le train pour le moment...
Qui écoute trop la météo, passe sa vie au bistrot !
Ah oui pour moi c'est carrément le cout de mon dernier voyage d'un mois en Russie 😮 J'avoue je ne mettrai pas cette somme pour des vêtements pour UN voyage.
Bonjour et merci pour ce compte rendu qui nous montre vraiment ce qui nous attend pour ce voyage. En effet, je vais le faire avec 3 amies en mars 2019 ! quelques questions me viennent déjà… aviez-vous trouvé sur place des crampons pour vos chaussures, avez-vous utilisé les chaufrettes pieds et mains, des moufles ou des gants, la nuit aviez-vous froid ? Avez-vous quelques conseils ? Cordialement Françoise
Merci pour partage qui m'a fait passer un super moment de rêve. C'est un endroit où nous rêvons d'aller mais plein de choses font que nous ne pourrons jamais y voyager. Par ce CR et ces belles photos nous y sommes un petit peu. Merci encore.
Bonjour Estelle.
Félicitations, "Standing Ovation" et tout et tout 🙂 😎 😮 Vraiment !
Pas seulement pour le voyage, mais aussi (surtout) pour ce Carnet de Voyage, qui se boit d'une seule traite, avec des photos et des renseignements descriptifs excellents.
Je me fais vieux, mais mon amie (Estonienne d'origine Russe) un peu plus jeune que moi a envie de visiter le lac Baïkal (et moi de le traverser en hiver).
J'ai un vieux "Land Discovery" avec lequel je suis allé de Bayonne au Pamir en passant par ... le lac Balkash, au Kazakhstan (le petit frère du lac Baïkal), et je prévois d'aller à Irkoutsk + Baïkal, et plus loin avec mon Disco, mais en été (le chauffage-dégivrage est un peu en panne !).
Toutefois, le lac Baïkal en Hiver me tente depuis quelques années (= le film "Dans les forêts de Sibérie") et votre Carnet tombe à pic.
Plan de base : je rejoindrais mon amie en Estonie. De chez elle (Narva, à la frontière Russe) à St-Pet il y a des Bus rapides directs [~ 200 bornes], et nous sommes allés plusieurs fois voir des ballets au Théatre Mariinsky.
On prendrait une ligne intérieure depuis l'aéroport de St-Pétersbourg.
À Irkoutsk on prendrait le train. Je suppose qu'autour du Baïkal les Bouriates comprennent suffisamment le Russe pour qu'elle se fasse comprendre pour le logements sur place, et les locations de minibus et chauffeurs spécialisés, recommandés ou contactés par l'Agence, sans doute.
Donc ce serait train + chauffeurs spécialisés + logement, tout ça partiellement préparé avec l'Agence Artel Troïka (ou autre ???) avec une répartition "Organisé par Eux / organisé par Nous" à définir.
Durée totale : une semaine (mon amie bosse encore, sa retraite c'est dans trois ans !!!).
Si les Bouriates sont totalement hermétique au Russe, merci de me dire, car cela impactera le contour de la prestation de l'Agence.
Merci, et encore BRAVO !!! Vive les rêves ... et leur réalisation 😛 !!!
"Avant que je ne parte pour les pays lointains, mes ongles sur la carte ont tracé le chemin"
"L'expérience est une lanterne attachée dans le dos qui n'éclaire que le chemin qu'on a parcouru"
Donc : "Arrêtez de dire des conneries ! Faites-les !"
Je suppose qu'autour du Baïkal les Bouriates comprennent suffisamment le Russe
les Bouriates de Russie sont citoyens russes, dans un pays où 100% des enfants sont scolarisés au moins jusqu'à 16 ans, et apprennent tous à lire, écrire et parler en russe, langue officielle du pays. Il en est de même pour tous les peuples de Russie, du fin fond des vallées du Caucase jusqu'au bout du Kamtchatka...
Je suppose qu'autour du Baïkal les Bouriates comprennent suffisamment le Russe
les Bouriates de Russie sont citoyens russes, dans un pays où 100% des enfants sont scolarisés au moins jusqu'à 16 ans, et apprennent tous à lire, écrire et parler en russe, langue officielle du pays. Il en est de même pour tous les peuples de Russie, du fin fond des vallées du Caucase jusqu'au bout du Kamtchatka...
Merci Meg2. Mais je suppose que les Instit'Bouriates ont l'accent ... Bouriate.
Mon fils Antoine, alors tout petit, est revenu de son école de Bayonne en disant à sa mère (Instit'Parisienne) "La maitresse elle parle très mal, on comprend rien".
Je suis passé par pas mal de pays en "-stan" (Kazakhstan, Kirghizstan etc ...) et j'ai vu que le Russe de base passait partout (Daroga et Most, route et pont, essentiellement) mais la mère de Safy Nebbou qui a tourné un film là bas ("Dans les forêts de Sibérie") me disait que les équipes de Moscou (des Russes) avaient du mal à se faire comprendre des Bouriates.
Alors je cherchais un avis vécu sur place.
J'ai passé deux ans en Irlande à modifier un bateau de pêche. Mais après plus de 30 ans dans les milieux Américains avec divers accents Anglais : Inde, Nigéria etc) j'ai eu un mal de chien pour comprendre l'Anglais des trois quinquagénaires Irlandais du chantier naval.
Autre exemple dans une équipe de trois British spécialistes en "Positionnement" (Installation Pétrolières en mer, mon boulot pendant 38 ans) il y avait un Écossais de 30 balais dont je ne comprenais pas l'accent bizarre. Ses collègues Anglais m'ont dit que eux non plus, et que, à leur avis, seuls leurs moutons comprenaient les habitants de son bled en Écosse (en parlant de l'Anglais) 🤪
Enfin, mon père était Auvergnat et comprenait très bien le "Français" du fermier d'à coté, mais c'était imbitable pour nos cousins de Bourg-la-Reine, et moi je captais l'essentiel à force de l'entendre, mais sans plus.
J'ai aussi travaillé 3 ans dans l'agriculture dans les Landes (Dax). Il faut un lexique et un décodeur de son ... J'habite Bayonne, c'est plus clair (sauf en Basque, mais c'est une autre langue).
De nos jours, à la télé j'entends souvent un langage que je ne comprends pas bien et qui est d'ailleurs sous-titré ... en Français 🙂.
Alors, les Bouriates ont-ils l'accent Marseillais, Lyonnais, Alsacien, ou Parisien (je me comprends 😉 ) . Mon amie est originaire de Saint-Pétersbourg, pas de Sibérie.
Bon, on verra sur place, mais je pense prudent d'avoir un(e) interprète local(e) sur les glaces du lac (risque majeur). Pour l’hôtel, le train et le reste, y'a pas ni pwoblèm patwon 😇 mon amie se débrouillera, on risque juste une gastro 😛.
Encore merci.
"Avant que je ne parte pour les pays lointains, mes ongles sur la carte ont tracé le chemin"
"L'expérience est une lanterne attachée dans le dos qui n'éclaire que le chemin qu'on a parcouru"
Donc : "Arrêtez de dire des conneries ! Faites-les !"
Estelle un tres grand merci pour ce reportage EXTRAORDINAIRE au vrai sens du terme .
Vos photos sont sublimes et reflètent merveilleusement ce voyage que nous refaisons avec vous !
Merci merci merci . J'ai eu l'immense bonheur d'accompagner un circuit pour le Club Med ' entre Amour et Volga' il y a tellement longtemps ( en 86 !!!) j'en ai gardé un souvenir inoubliable . mais je ne l'ai pas fait à cette saison et l'image du " docteur Jivago " n'était pas du voyage .
Je reste fascinée par la Sibérie . ( Sylvain Tesson est un auteur qui m'impressionne bcp aussi ).
Tout de bon , comme on dit chez vous .
MERCI
les équipes de Moscou (des Russes) avaient du mal à se faire comprendre des Bouriates.
Si les Moscovites ont parfois du mal à se faire comprendre dans les steppes d'Asie Centrale, à mon avis, c'est parce qu'ils parlent vite en avalant davantage les syllabes non accentuées. Personnellement, je trouve le russe des Bouriates ou des Kazakhs plus facile à comprendre que celui des Moscovites, et je n'ai pas eu de problème pour me faire comprendre...
Mais je suppose que les Instit'Bouriates ont l'accent... Bouriate
oui, j'ai parfois rencontré des Bouriates qui avaient un accent à couper au couteau, mais pas tous, et ça n'est pas un problème. Les Russes, en particulier en Sibérie où il y a moins de touristes, apprécient le simple fait que moi, touriste occidental, j'avais fait l'effort d'apprendre leur langue. Et si je leur demandais de répéter moins vite, ils le faisaient. Sinon, pour ce qui est des Russes russes (majoritaires dans l'oblast d'Irkoutsk), les accents sont beaucoup moins différenciées qu'en France malgré l'étendue du pays.
Je souhaite partager avec vous mon retour d'expérience suite à 2 semaines de voyage en Russie: une très belle aventure, des belles expériences et une immersion…
Me voilà revenue d’un voyage d’un mois pile. 24 jours en Russie et une semaine entre Tallinn et Helsinki. Des pays somme toute plutôt différents! La visite de…
La Russie était sur la liste des voyages que je voulais faire en solo. Après l'Argentine et les Etats-Unis, je me suis donc envolée vers l'Est pour passer le…
Voici le récit de 3 merveilleuses semaines passées au lac. Avec Laurent, ça fait déjà un mois et demi qu'on est à Moscou pour nos études. Histoire de profiter…
S ... comme Sibérie et S ... comme le tracé de la ligne du rivage de cette partie du lac. Parfois, il y a des lectures qui vous replongent dans vos souvenirs…
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!
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
"So, 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...
"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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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.
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!
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:
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.
Preamble:
Africa was calling to me, so a year ago, with our usual travel companions, we decided to return to the continent we love so much.
Where to go?
Uganda quickly caught our attention—wildlife we’re used to seeing, plus gorillas and the shoebill we missed in Zambia.
We got in touch with Paul, who’s been mentioned several times on the forum back in September, booked our flight tickets, secured the gorilla permits, and by early October, the most important things were done.
We still had plenty of time to hold our "prep meetings" for the final itinerary.
Three days before departure, I sprained my ankle (my weak spot, as you’ll recall from our Colombia trip).
I wasn’t in great spirits, but after a year of waiting, nothing was going to stop me.
We’d see how it goes!
Off we went for our new adventures
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
It often happens that we're asked what to visit in Belgium.
And the answers usually point to Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, and Brussels—and rightly so, as these cities are well worth visiting ;).
However, Belgium, though small, isn’t just limited to these four cities.
I live in one of them (Brussels), enjoy spending time in the other three, but I’d like to highlight some lesser-known spots that could add to the trip for those who want to see a bit more or something different.
Between trips, I like exploring one or two corners of the country where I live.
Hence the idea for a travel journal of walks.
Most of the places I’ll talk about can be visited as a day trip from Brussels, whether by public transport or car.
In chronological order of the topics covered:
- The Gileppe Dam (Liège province) - message 2, page 1
- The Domaine de La Hulpe (Walloon Brabant) - message 3, page 1
- Mechelen (Antwerp province) - message 4, page 1
- The coast - message 5, page 1
- The Westhoek, from De Panne - message 6, page 1
- The Zwin, from Knokke - message 7, page 1
- Lier (between Mechelen and Antwerp) - message 8, page 1
- Mons (Hainaut) - message 9, page 1
- The Florenville region - message 12, page 1
- The East Cantons - message 13, page 1
- Dinant - message 18, page 1
- The Japanese garden in Hasselt - message 24, page 2
- Leuven - message 29, page 2
- Louvain-la-Neuve - message 32, page 2
- Ostend - message 42 (page 3) and message 166 (page 9)
- The floralies of Groot-Bijgaarden - message 43, page 3
- Halle Forest - message 44, page 3
- Pralines - message 54, page 3
- Charleroi - message 68, page 4
- Namur - message 92, page 5
- Le Bois du Cazier (Marcinelle) - message 95, page 5
- Couques and gosettes - message 96, page 5
- Liège - message 99, page 5
- Tournai - message 115, page 6
- Oudenaarde - message 121, page 7
- Meise Botanical Garden - message 124, page 7
- Tongeren - message 125, page 7
- Beersel Castle (Flemish Brabant) - message 126, page 7
- Brussels in lockdown (messages 150 and 154, page 8)
- Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital in Lessines (messages 161 and 162, page 9)
- Westende (message 167, page 9)
I’ll keep updating this list as the journal progresses...
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rental options kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything suddenly fell into place—I told myself, it’s time!
The preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not the south?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or go with the flow?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela about this destination (the guide has been updated since).
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You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(Steak for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
You’ll find here a post with some practical information.
And here, the version of the travel journal without comments.
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As a supplement, the route track.
Not necessarily ultra-accurate since Google has serious gaps for this destination...
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!
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.
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:
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.
A little sneak peek?
