Sur les traces de Don Quichotte en Espagne, de Valencia à Avila (1)
Finalement, le célèbre chemin du Levant (Ruta de Levante) ou chemin de Don Quichotte n'est qu'à neuf heures de Lyon...
A l'heure où tous les vols européens sont bloqués et que 17.000 avions piaffent sous un nuage de poussières volcaniques à 12.000 mètres d'altitude, que les trains français fonctionnent au mode aléatoire, il est plus facile de se jeter sur l'autoroute du Soleil et de se poser 1.000 kms plus au Sud, à Valencia, capitale de la Communidad de Valencia (750.000 h)
Certes, vous aurez payé pas loin de 100 euros de péages en prenant l'autoroute de la Costa del Sol, mais les criques et les sierras qui se jettent directement dans la Grande Bleue valent bien leur pesant d'or et ont quelque chose de saisissant à l'issue du long hiver européen...
Les petits malins qui veulent économiser les péages prendront soin de choisir les nouvelles autoroutes de l'intérieur qui sont encore pour la plupart gratuites...
Comme le diesel est toujours un peu moins cher en Espagne, on n'arrivera pas au prix d'un low-cost à l'aéroport de Valencia, mais le prix du voyage en sera diminué...
Pour les amateurs de vol low-cost, Valencia s'est doté d'un aéroport flambant neuf en plein campagne(à Manises) à l'orée du Ruta de Levante, avec , à son pied, un hotel Accor tout neuf qui repose le voyageur, avant même qu'il ait entrepris son voyage...
Par contre, l'Espagne ayant opté avant la récession pour une économie de type industriel, avec critères d'outre-atlantique(voitures + autoroutes + polygones industriels) il est fortement conseillé au randonneur de reculer son départ de 40 kms, tant le paysage sub-urbain est abîmé dans un rayon de 30 kms autour de Valencia...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Voilà Ulysse de retour, cette fois en Espagne, sur les traces de Don Quichotte !
Va t'il suivre les mêmes rêves que son héros ? et surtout les plus fous ?
Mais pour l'instant il est à Valencia.
A part les autoroutes et l'aéroport, qu'a t'il vu d'intéressant dans le centre de cette ville qui, je crois, ne manque pas de charme, ayant su associer à son passé un modernisme non agressif.
Au plaisir de lire la suite ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
le ruta n'est pas de tout repos et les images que tu as gardées de Valencia sont bien sympathiques...mais Valencia pour l'accueil du voyageur, c'est pas coton...
et puis les cyber-cafés ne courent pas les chemins...alors aujourd'hui, on émergera dans la meseta et les montagnes sauvages...
Où l'on émerge très vite dans la meseta et les montagnes sauvages (2)
C'est seulement après Alzira (Km 42) que l'on émerge enfin sur les paysages de grands espaces, les fincas et les villages perchés...après 40 km de paysages défigurés par les nouvelles architectures péri-urbaines (les fameux "poligonos industrial)
La même impression qu'à la sortie de Séville quand on remonte le Ruta de la Plata, c'est à la troisième étape que l'on retrouve l'Espagne que l'on aime, aride, sauvage ou verdoyante(en avril), à peine abimée par les grandes autoroutes qui nervurent le paysage...
Il faut absolument sortir des autoroutes pour goûter le plaisir des pueblo endormis entre I4 et I7 heures, leur gaité après 20 heures quand les espagnols s'offrent des séances de télé collective à l'albergue où la cerveza coule à flots...
Il est aussi important de pénétrer au coeur de L'Espagne pour sentir le poids de la récession immobilière et commerciale; l'Espagne, qui avait misé intensément sur l'immobilier et le tourisme, a vu le premier s'effondrer: des bâtiments en construction sont inachevés, des hangars tout neufs, construits en plein champ, sont "se vende"...
A l'intérieur des pueblos, dans les rues piétonnes, un commerce sur quatre est à vendre cause "liquidacion"...
Des vieillards travaillent comme manutentionnaires sur des chantiers de travaux publics encore existants et dans les villages de l'intérieur, seules les femmes composent une population clairsemée à l'heure de la sieste...
Où sont passés les hommes?
Des poligonos industrial narguent les automobilistes avec parfois de l'humour vache: "Centre financier de l'alcazar de San Juan" ( à louer ou à vendre)...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
moi qui croyais ma copine Tafakara perdue dans les dunes du Grand Erg occidental...j'ai l'impression qu'elle veut retrouver les traces de ses lointains ancêtres...sur les terres du Grand Califat...
L'Espagne profonde, reine du patrimoine ibéro-wisigoth-romano-arabo-gotico-andalou...(3)
Un peu pompeux, mais tellement vrai...
Si vous faites l'effort de sortir des grands rubans d'autoroutes, vous découvrez, tout au long du jour, espacés de 30 kms, des villages aux noms à consonance arabique : "Almances, Almussafes, Alzira etc..." qui vous rappellent en permanence que vous foulez une région occupée ou pacifiée par les califes du Grand Califat Andalou pendant sept siècles...
Cà laisse des traces: des chateaux hauts perchés, tout un patrimoine chrétien qui a récupéré les restes d'une civilisation raffinée et cultivée, alors que Francs et Ibères étaient encore dans "leurs âges noirs", à peine pacifiés par la religion chrétienne...
Depuis le XVI ième siècle, la chrétienté s'est fait un devoir de marquer son empreinte dans le moindre pueblo, avec cloîtres, églises, chapelles, cimetières...
Le paysage est constellé de chrétienté... à 9 kms d'Alcazar(arabe) de san Juan(chrétien), les braves moines ont pris soin de coiffer d'un christ monumental un tumulus datant d'au moins vingt siècles...avant JC...
pas un seul pouce de terrain ne doit rester à l'infidèle...
Cette histoire compliquée nous a laissé de magnifiques édifices, des ruelles à moucharabieh, des cloitres qui ressemblent à si méprendre à des cours intérieures de medersas(écoles coraniques) de vrais villages arabes au coeur de l'Espagne, fille seconde de l'église...
Don Quichotte n'aurait pas déniché sa fiancée "Dulcinée" à El Toboso, on pourrait croire que la ville endormie est celle d'Averoes...
Les moulins de notre héros nous nargueront sur plus de de cent kilomètres entre Albacete et Tolède...
Tolède, ancienne capitale royale de la Castille, avant que les Arabes ne soient boutés hors d'Europe, Tolède la ville adoptive du El Greco, que nous garderons comme perle de notre périple...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Cette histoire compliquée nous a laissé de magnifiques édifices, des ruelles à moucharabieh, des cloitres qui ressemblent à si méprendre à des cours intérieures de medersas(écoles coraniques) de vrais villages arabes au coeur de l'Espagne, fille seconde de l'église...
Salam Tomas !
Ces mélanges et influences de différentes civilisations, de différentes religions, sont toujours fascinantes, et aussi d’une certaine façon touchantes.
Certains dirigeants ont eu l'intelligence de ne pas détruire toutes ces belles constructions qu'avaient laissées leurs prédécesseurs...pour notre plus grand bonheur et pour s'apercevoir les siècles suivants, et dans le cas présent, à quel point les influences musulmanes ont été puissantes en Espagne, l'Alhambra en est le meilleur exemple.
Les édifices religieux ont été souvent moins épargnés, mais on trouve aussi des modifications architecturales étonnantes : la plus folle, la "mezquita-catedral", cathédrale de Cordoue, construite au coeur de la mosquée, bâtie d'ailleurs elle même à la place d'une église au sein de laquelle, au 8è siècle, il y avait même un culte partagé entre chrétiens et musulmans !
L'église Mertola au Portugal résulte, elle aussi, de la transformation partielle de la mosquée par suppression de son minaret.
L'inverse a aussi été vrai, par exemple à Istanbul : Sainte Sophie devenue mosquée par l'adjonction entre autre de 4 minarets, Saint Sauveur in Chora où Ali Pacha a préservé ses belles mosaïques incompatibles avec le culte de l'Islam ( représentations humaines) en les recouvrant pour les cacher ... sans les détruire ...
Qu'en est-il de Tolède ?
Y as-tu trouvé des transformations similaires ?
Raconte nous ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
je ne sais pas si tu auras toute l'attention requise pour lire la dernière lettre de Chamilly au sujet de ses campagnes au pays de Don Quichotte, mais enfin, je te la poste d'un cyber de passage, c'est plutôt "les aventures de Momo"...
Momo, serveur "al hostal residencia Milan de San Clemente" (4)
Momo était serveur au restaurant de l'hotel Résidence Milan de San Clemente depuis 5 ans...
A 350 kms de Valencia, à 200 kms de Tolède, sur la route de Don Quichotte, mais à I500 kms de sa ville de naissance: Casablanca, Casa Negra...
Il peut avoir 23 ans, mais pas plus...
Il est actif et diligent, compétent et expérimenté...
Ulysse et lui s'étaient d'abord fourvoyés sur leurs nationalités réciproques...
Comme Momo avait l'allure style d'un espagnol en uniforme et que cette terre d'Espagne a été occupée pendant sept siècles par des arabes et sept siècles encore par des mudejars, Ulysse l'avait pris pour un espagnol...
Et le brave Momo avait pris Ulysse pour un anglais, puisqu'ils échangeaient dans la langue de Gordon Brown...
La présentation du contenu du menu del dia avait eu lieu comme il se doit en espagnol, eu égard à la quantité de poissons disponibles à la carte...
Aussi bien, quelle fut leur surprise réciproque lorsque Momo découvrit la page francaise du guide de voyage où son hotel était cité en référence (page 95) Editions en mp...
Tous les deux se mirent à parler la langue de Fillon pour évoquer le bon vieux Maroc qu'ils avaient laissé tous les deux, Pour Ulysse, il y avait à peine un mois...avec amour... pour Momo, bientôt un an, avec nostalgie...
Que de réminiscences de "Casa Negra"... que de réminiscences du quartier el sabeh et de la Ville rouge (cf précédent carnet: "délires et délices dans la ville rouge..."
Quand Ulysse demanda à Momo comment était pour lui la vie depuis la récession (-1,4 de prévision de croissance pour 2011) Momo eut toute la pudeur marocaine, l'intelligence et le savoir-vivre pour lui faire comprendre que travailler à cinq dans un restaurant où il n'y avait qu'un seul client, était à la limite du kafkaien( en arabe : de l'absurde...)
et que son sort n'était pas des plus brillants, avec la "crisis" (dans les mots de Momo) qui s'approfondissait tous les jours...
Les touristes reviendraient peut-être aux beaux jours...Inch'Allah...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Et le brave Momo avait pris Ulysse pour un anglais, puisqu'ils échangeaient dans la langue de Gordon Brown...
Tous les deux se mirent à parler la langue de Fillon pour évoquer le bon vieux Maroc qu'ils avaient laissé tous les deux, Pour Ulysse, il y avait à peine un mois...avec amour... pour Momo, bientôt un an, avec nostalgie...
Salam Tomas,
Un Momo marocain nostalgique de ... Casablanca et un Ulysse français amoureux de ... Marrakech, parlant tous deux anglais...en Espagne, voilà un tableau qui me plait bien !
Maintenant je ne voudrais pas paraitre tason, mais je ferais quand même remarquer - est-ce un hasard ? - qu'une fois de plus Ulysse est encore à table !
Après avoir goûté à toutes les spécialités marocaines, le voilà s'attaquant aux pescados espagnols.
Par contre Tafakara et moi, nous, nous restons sur notre faim...
Avec ce titre alléchant " Sur les traces de Don Quichotte" on attendait un récit épique !
Ben non ... Don Quichotte prend son repas, tranquille, discutant avec Momo.
Remarque après tout, il vaut mieux placer cet épisode gastronomique au début de l'histoire, car il me semble que par la suite notre héros perdra ses dents ...
Pauvre Ulysse ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
"sur les traces de Don quichotte, on attendait un récit épique"
ola Mariana,
le voilà, le premier combat d'Ulysse contre la bureaucratie donquichottesque: tu vas pouvoir découvrir dans la langue de Zapatero la première escarmouche:
premier combat d'Ulysse au pays de Don Quichotte (6)
anulacion de la denuncia:
su vehiculo ha sido denunciado
si el tiempo sobrepasado no es superior a 60 minutos, usred puede anular la denuncia, obteniendo de la maquina un segundo ticket de anulacion, cuyo imported es de 2,25 euros...
Este ticket, jubto al estacionamento y al boletin de denuncia, introduzcalos en este sobre y metalo en el buzon situado en el maquina expendedora...
sanctiones segun orenanza:
por carecer de ticket : 30,05 euros
por rebasar la hora establiceda en el ticket, 30,05 euros
il est treize heures trente, le repas a été copieux, Ulysse est fauché de plein pied par l'arrogance des caballeros...Quelle va être sa réaction à cette horrible denuncia...?
saura-t-il relevé le défi des caballeros?
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉bonjour Tomas
Je vois que le grand voyageur est de retour, avec toujours des descriptions qui donnent envie de partir.
Il paraît que fiancièrement l'Espagne devrait suivre la grêce, pourtant, elle a pas mal investi surtout dans l'immobilier
ensuite ce serait l'Italie, puis la France pour les déficits.
bon, restons positifs, et régalons nous avec tes récits enchanteurs, on verra bien.
il est treize heures trente, le repas a été copieux, Ulysse est fauché de plein pied par l'arrogance des caballeros...Quelle va être sa réaction à cette horrible denuncia...?
C'est vrai, qu'a bien pu faire notre Don Quichotte ?
Vu l'heure et le repas copieux, je dirais tout simplement ... la sieste.... 😉
en rêvant ... au combat qu'il allait devoir mener contre ces caballeros, ou ... à sa Dulcinée qu'il allait bientôt retrouver ...à Tolède.
Vite, la suite !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
ola, c'est dur de mettre des photos quand tu émets d'un cyber...les photos, c'est pour mon retour, tu seras pas décue...tu voyageras presqu'aussi bien que Jean Rochefort dans "Don Quirote" (2004) de Terry Gillian (LOL), d'ailleurs il faut que l'on revienne à notre "Don Quirote"...
A la recherche de Don Quirote au pays de la Meseta:(6)
Autant le mythe de Don Quirote(version espagnole) et de sa fiancée Dulcinée(clin d'oeil pour Arrawak) est ancrée dans l'imaginaire de l'enfance (clin d'oeil pour lacalo) et bien sûr, enjolivé... autant la réalité du pays de Don Quichotte à deux ans de la grande récession procède plus des "raisins de la colère" (clin d'oeil pour Tafakara) que de Don Quichotte et des caballeros...
Cervantès, et non pas la Religieuse portugaise... avait choisi TOBOSO (408 kms de Valencia - 132 de TOLEDE) et une de ses riches demeures pour y faire naître Dulcinée...à qui notre cavalier de l'imaginaire(clin d'oeil pour Mariana) avait juré amour et fidélité...
TOBOSO ne se déniche pas facilement, surtout quand le Guide que vous utilisez vous indique :
"Hotel-Restaurant DULCINEE,
3, Ctra , QUINTANA DE ORDEN"
Et là, vous gagnez QUINTANA DE ORDEN, pensant découvrir la belle demeure de Dulcinée, et vous pénétrez dans un gros bourg, au coeur de la Meseta, frappé de plein fouet par la récession économique (pour Raymond3)...
Un commerce sur quatre affiche "Liquidacion" (cf.photo)
quand ce n'est pas la boîte de nuit du village qui est désormais murée de parpaings(cf.photo)
Le tourisme prend une allure de tourisme responsable... vous cherchez à savoir de quoi vivent désormais ces populations qui avaient tant cru aux sirènes du capitalisme immobilier et de travaux publics...
et qui avaient su aussi faire fructifier magnifiquement les aides européennes...
Heureusement, la terre et la vigne, les oliviers aussi sont toujours là, les moulins aussi, même s'ils ne tournent plus dans cet Quichotte land...
Les chimères économiques avaient remplacé les chimères du Caballero de Cervantès...
Désormais, les Sancho Pansa ont remis en route leurs vieux tracteurs de trente ans d'âge...
Le vino tinto n'a jamais été aussi gouleyant et chargé de soleil....
Les dulcinées de Quintan de Orden (9 kms de TOBOSO): hotel-restaurant Dulcinée: tél.925.56.80.55, bavardent au soleil de la Mancha...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
"Et là, vous gagnez QUINTANA DE ORDEN, pensant découvrir la belle demeure de Dulcinée, et vous pénétrez dans un gros bourg, au coeur de la Meseta, frappé de plein fouet par la récession économique (pour Raymond3)..."
Salut Ulysse,
Bien repéré ton clin d'oeuil, j'arrive; tranquila hombre. Je te suis pas à pas même si je suis resté ces derniers temps dans la coulisse. Tu nous parles de la meseta mais je reste sur ma faim sur ton ressenti et sur les rencontres que tu peux faire. Nous sommes en année jacquaire; as tu le sentiment de le vivre sur ce chemin. Les espagnols doivent avoir bien d'autres soucis en ce moment. Les Grecs, les Espagnols, les Portugais sont dans l'oeuil du cyclone mais en France, le beau temps persisite donc pas de problème. J'ai le sentiment désagréable que on rejoue le nuage de Tchernobyl qui avait contourné nos frontières. Bref, je m'égare et sort complètement du sujet mais peut être pas tant que ça car on doit bien en causer dans les troquets. Raconte nous un peu.
Bon c'est promis, je vais te suivre de très près car tu connais mon amour pour l'Espagne. A très vite; buen camino. Bon courage pour écrire en français sur un clavier espagnol.
😉Le beau temps persiste en France
Lequel le météo ou l'économique?
Pour la météo, des vagues de 6 mètres de haut ont ravagé la côte niçoise, laissant dans les restaaurants rien que du sable et des galets...........
La neige et le gel ont anéanti les cultures de fraisiers............et d'autres fruits.
Quant à l'Espagne, aux dernières infos, elle vient de demander une aide au FMI, nouvelle démentie par le président, mais qui a fait chuter les cours............
L'Amérique n'a plus confiance dans l'Europe, pensant que l'Espagne le Portugal et l'Italie suivront.
Bon, l'amérique peut se taire et s'occuper avant de gérer ses banques qui ont bien endetté la Grèce en vendant des produits jugés d'avance frelatés.
Mais j'ai confiance en l'Espagne, on ne peut pas dire que l'aide de l'Europe est restée dans les caisses de l'Etat et n'a servi à rien.
Si on remonte en arrière, elle n'avait pas d'autoroutes et il était difficuile pour les touristes de circuler.
Maintenant ses infrastuctures valent bien les nôtres.
Par contre, il est vrai que dans les grandes surfaces, au lieu de privilégier l'Espagne, maintenant, les tomates et les melons viennent du Maroc.
J'ai parcouru pas mal l'Espagne , en camping car, ses champs d'oliviers, ses orangers, toutes ses étendues de culture sont magnifiques.
Et puis, il lui reste aussi le tourisme, avec l'Andalousie et ses merveilles à découvrir
Sa mer méditerranée et ses plages
Ses hôtels, .
Là où elle a exagéré et où c'est devenu invendable c'est pour l'immobilier
Comme chez nous, dans el sud-est, béton à outrance.
bon, j'attends les photos qui devraient bientôt arriver
Comme chez nous, dans el sud-est, béton à outrance
Bonjour Georges !
C'est ça le problème.
L'expérience des uns ne sert pas aux autres ...
Quand on voit comment certains tronçons de côtes sont défigurés par le béton ...
Dans tous les pays.
Ben non, on continue ... business ...
Et le Maroc, comme les autres s'engage dans la même voie !
La côte nord entre Ceuta et Tétouan n'est qu'une suite de constructions, qui s'abiment en plus à grande vitesse, et je ne parle pas de tous les projets en cours.
C'est triste à dire, mais c'est finalement les Corses qui ont raison ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
🙁Et je suppose que pour le Maroc, les nombreux expatriés Français qui viennent s'y installer, surtout les retraités, qui y vivent mieux, côté portefeuille qu'en France, vont encore faire accroître l'immobilier..........;
Mais si celà permet aux Marocains d'avoir une meilleure économie, ce sera un avantage.
Seulement le coût de la vie augmentera pour eux, comme chez nous dans le sud-est, dès Pâques, çà se ressent, les grandes surfaces savent que les touristes vont arriver et en profitent.
C'est pourquoi j'achète les tomates qui viennent du Maroc en attendant que les miennes mûrissent dans mon jardin.
Ola Raymondo c'est Pénélope qui te fait un clin d'oeil. Ulysse est encore reparti sur les chemins. J'espère qu'il n'attrapera pas ta tendinite de 2006 ni la mienne de Léon 2007. on peut lui souhaiter de boire autre chose que du Vino Tito, il y a d'excellentes eaux minérales dans la sierra de Bejar on peut déjà prier St Thérèse et st Jean de la Croix mais je ne crois pas que ce parpaillot puisse avoir leurs indulgences
ariane
en montagne, ce sont les conditions qui sont difficiles, bonnes ou mauvaises
moi qui te croyais avec tes prétendants dans l'île de Capri, à San Felice, plus précisément, te voilà de retour de Fiumicino...j'espère que comme à ton habitude tu auras ramené une grappa ou un limoncello comme je les aime...il va falloir se méfier de Raimundo, cet amoureux de L'espagne et na pas raconter des bêtises...to-day, Ulysse arrive à Tolède, la perle de la Sierra de Béjar...
Tolède, night and day (6):
Ancienne capitale des Rois catholiques jusqu'au XVI ième siècle, Tolède a des allures de Sienne la nuit, tant elle chevauche un piton rocheux depuis des millénaires...
Celtes, romains, wisigoths, en ont fait successivement leur place-forte préférée...
L'Alcazar lui-même, palais royal, est construit sur un ancien fortin romain...
De plus, après la Reconquista, les espagnols ont fait appel aux artisans mudejars de Cordoue, formés sous le Califat andalou...
On concoit comme il est difficile de lire désormais les facades et les différents apports des "huns" et des autres....
Les espagnols auront du mal à faire la part des choses, ils combineront l'art islamique(arabo-andalou) et les rigueurs du roman clunisien...
Ils touilleront tout celà à la sauce baroque pour faire "leur plateresque", dégoulinant d'ors et d'émotion...
Tout celà est lisible à Tolède, comme une merveille des civilisations orientales et occidentales(bonjour Monsieur Le Pen...)
Les sanguinaires chrétiens reprendont vite le dessus sur les doux andalous...(encore que le Califat ne plaisantait pas avec les éxécutions sommaires et la justice expéditive...)
L'inquisition ne sera pas mal non plus(à Tolède, actuellement, une exposition sur le raffinement des machines à supplices...)
Chez les Espagnols, le christ saigne et les épines de sa couronne lui pénétrent les chairs...: le dolorisme, le sang, le taureau, la fièvre de l'Orient, les raffinements barbares de l'Occident pas encore dégrossi...
Heureusement que les wisigoths ont été là, précédant cette fusion : merveilles de l'orfèvrerie sculptée de l'art wisigoth(au musée des Concilios) modernité de leurs fibules et de leurs couronnes votives...il n'y a que les Egyptiens de la 25 ième dynastie pour avoir été aussi modernes...(clin d'oeil à Arrawak)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
à Tolède, actuellement, une exposition sur le raffinement des machi, es à supplices...)
Salam Tomas,
Quel melting-pot artistique dans cette ville étonnante !
Toutes ces civilisations qui se sont succédées, et qui ont laissé leurs empreintes ...
Dans ses recherches architecturales, Ulysse a t'il retrouvé une nouvelle "Puerta Agnaou" ?
Où on exposait ces suppliciés passés sous les machines ?
Mais en Espagne Delacroix s'est arrêté en Andalousie, comme au Maroc à Meknès... 😉
Il c'est vrai que Tolède, c'est plutôt la patrie du Greco ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
😉bonjour Tomas
Il y a eu dernièrement un intéressant reportage sur Arte, sur la colonisation de l'Espagne par les Arabes.
Il est certain qu'ils ont laissé des vestges importants en art, comme la mezquita de cordoba, les jardins de l'Alhambra, etc.
Et aussi appris comment irriguer les terres pour les rendre fertiles.
Au tout début, tout le monde, chrétiens, Juifs, Musulmans, vivaient en harmonie.
C'est l'envahissement par un chef arabe, sanguinaire, qui a déclanché les hostilités, massacres à la pelle.
pour la mosquée de cordoue, au départ c'était une église où tous priaient, chacun dans sa religion.
quand le grand chef arabe a décidé de construire autour une immense mosquée, impressionnante, une forêt de colonnes, mais il est vrai somptueuse aussi.
Là, je pense que tout a changé.
"il va falloir se méfier de Raimundo, cet amoureux de L'espagne et na pas raconter des bêtises..."
Hola Ulysse, qué tal hombre? Dis moi, si je me rappelle bien, tu as toujours avec toi en terre de Cervantès et de Zapatero réunis un petit précis de conversation espagnole. As-tu bien assimilé la phrase qui commençait ainsi : « el pajaro rojo… » dont je ne me souviens pas la suite. As-tu maîtrisé sa prononciation ? Je blague et je te pique !
Plus sérieux, as-tu trouvé des autochtones avec qui tu puisses réellement échanger pour savoir quelle est l’état d’esprit des espagnols dans la tourmente actuelle avec plus de 20% de chômeurs. J’en ai de la peine et je tombe de haut moi qui croyais à leur réussite économique. J’étais bien naïf de penser que tout allait bien pour eux quand on voyait le long du Camino des chantiers immenses avec des douzaines de grues. Je pense à Ponferrada en particulier où une ville nouvelle était en construction. Ce n’était qu’un mirage de la spéculation immobilière.
Enfin, je ne sais pas si c’est un progrès d’avenir mais les champs d’éoliennes partout en Espagne placent ce pays loin devant le notre pour ce type de technologie « verte ».
J’espère que tu blaguais en disant qu’il allait falloir surveiller tes propos. Tranquila hombre, je dissèque ta perception de l’Espagne et j’essaye dans deviner le jus profond. Si je ne me trompe, tu as traversé les terres de la Mancha chères à Almodovar. Comment ressens tu la terre, les paysages, le vent… Tu nous en dira plus je pense quand, rentré at home, tu auras récupéré des moyens informatiques performants.
Buen camino y hasta luego amigo
Elle est magnifique même si son frère trouve que c'est dur d 'avoir un bébé à la maison. Très difficile aussi d'arrivée à Campino avec ce volcan qui nous perturbe. Alors train ou avion? Quand tu penses que Raymond3 a du attendre 3 jours avant de pouvoir revenir du Japon. Des mauvaises langues m'ont annoncé un vol de 11 petites sirènes sur Marrakech-Menara
ariane
en montagne, ce sont les conditions qui sont difficiles, bonnes ou mauvaises
A la recherche de l'art islamique à 75kms de Madrid(7)
Quand on revient en l'espace de 2 mois de deux périples en terre d'Islam(Maroc et Sultanat d'Oman), ce qui était le cas d'Ulysse, on reste, malgré soi, imprégné des merveilles de l'art islamique que l'on a pu contempler ici et là à 10.000 kms de distance...
Ulysse fut étonné de retyrouver cette influence à TOLEDE: il avait oublié que les rois catholiques avaient, de toute bonne foi, utilisé les artistes et les artisans mudéjars(formés pendant sept siècles par le Califat andalou) ils les utilisèrent sans vergogne, eux et leurs descendants, puisque l'on trouve encore des merveilles néo-islamiques du XIX ième à TOLEDE...
Ulysse ne pousserait pas le bouchon jusqu'à confondre les "bow-windows" qui prolifèrent à TOLEDE comme d'ailleurs à ZAMORA, liés à une poussée d'Art Nouveau au début du XX ième siècle avec les célèbres "moucharabieh", et, pourtant, on s'y tromperait à TOLEDE...
disons que les uns utilisent des structures métalliques (bow-window) alors que les autres restent de bois, sculptés ou non (moucharabieh), mais cette distinction ferait peut-être hurler les puristes...
Il faut quand même observer que ces curiosités architecturales, liées aux moeurs et au temps, (voir sans être vu, pour les femmes, montrer osrtensiblement sa richesse pour les riches familles) prolifèrent à TOLEDE et sont un plaisir des yeux et aussi de très belles curiosités architecturales...cf photo: quizz des moucharabieh ? quizz des bow-windows?...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Ulysse ne pousserait pas le bouchon jusqu'à confondre les "bow-windows" qui prolifèrent à TOLEDE comme d'ailleurs à ZAMORA, liés à une poussée d'Art Nouveau au début du XX ième siècle avec les célèbres "moucharabieh", et, pourtant, on s'y tromperait à TOLEDE...
Mais ils sont où les moucharabiehs en bois ?
Tu as oublié de mettre les photos ...
On ne peut pas comparer !😠
Par contre, c'est vrai que cette influence islamique est surprenante au niveau des portes...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Mais ils sont où les moucharabiehs en bois ?
Tu as oublié de mettre les photos ...
On ne peut pas comparer !😠
Ola Lacalette,
pendant que le méchant volcan islandais pollue tes aéroports de Casa et de Tanger et perturbe certainement les registres des palais des mille et une nuits de MKK, je t'envoie un billet d'ULysse, bousculé par la neige dans la sierra de Bejar...
Ulysse n'assistera pas à l'enterrement du Comte D'Orgaz(8)
Ulysse, à quelques kilomètres de Tolède, avait traversé Orgaz et ce nom de village ne lui était pas inconnu: c'était celui du fameux comte d'Orgaz, dont le GRECO, le peintre-culte de Tolède, avait peint les funérailles religieuses...
Le fameux enterrement du comte d'Orgaz, exposé à l'église San Tomé(heureux saint...) de Tolède...
Ulysse sacrifierait quelques instants de son périple au tableau, mais il désespérait de trouver d'autres oeuvres du peintre à Tolède actuellement, en effet, une exposition rétrospective consacrée au GRECO parcourt cette année les principales capitales européennes ( Paris, Londres, Bruxelles...)
Les plus belles oeuvres du peintre, à part "les funérailles du comte d'Orgaz, ont du prendre le chemin de ces expositions et permettre au Musée GRECO d'être en en "obras" (travaux) pour quelques mois...
Ulysse, pourtant, ne verrait pas le fameux tableau malgré toute sa bonne volonté...en effet, les espagnols prient de plus en plus, leurs églises sont pleines, de plus en plus souvent pour demander à leurs dieux (Dieu le Père, Dieu le Fils, Dieu le Saint Esprit, la mère de Dieu, le Saint local, les saints évêques, quand il n'y a pas aussi un ermite, local lui-aussi...)
ils prient certainement pour éloigner les effets de la récession et réduire les 19 % de chômage que leur a infligé le culte du veau d'Or et les pratiques de Gomorrhe...
L'Espagne est un pays ardemment catholique, fille seconde de la chrétienté...et on ne mélange pas l'intérêt culturel et touristique et la ferveur religieuse: l'heure d'ouverture aux touristes de San Tomé était passée...Ulysse ne pourrait voir le célèbre tableau...(voisin de la casa du GRECO)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Non, je ne me souviens plus de son nom, mais ce n'était pas un breton !!!!!!
Et el Lepen ne se serait pas attaqué aux catholiques
Mais gare pour les autres.
Ils venaient d'où exactement les wisigoths?
Pauvre Ulysse, que de mésaventures dans cette Espagne sinistrée !
Le pays entier se refuse à lui :
Le nuage volcanique l'empêche de prendre l'avion
En voiture les caballeros le harcèlent
Les oeuvres du Gréco sont en voyage et la seule restante se fait prier pour être admirée
Même pas pu se consoler auprès de sa Dulcinée ... dont la demeure n'est pas loin d'être en liquidacion dans un bourg en pleine récession !
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
voilà que tu t'intéresses aux wisigoths et autres austrogoths...alors pour toi, je te dédie cette page de carnet, pleine de wisigoths...
L'empreinte wisigoth à Tolède: les goths artistes avant l'heure ? (9)
Ces carnets n'ont pas pour but de "bidonner" des guides culturels sur des sites qui ont déjà ��té tellement étudiés...
Encore que le français sur place a de grandes difficultés à trouver un guide "compréhensible" dans les offices de tourisme, guide qui ne soit pas en anglais ou en espagnol...
Ulysse avait gardé intacte sa passion pour l'archéologie, il en serait rassasié jusqu'à plus soif, il avait choisi le Musée des Concilios, celui des sites wisigoths de Tolède...
Il avait toujours eu un faible pour les "âges sombres" de l'histoire de la civilisation européenne et les traces wisigoths sont les traces les plus anciennes de nos deux millénaires occidentaux...
A Tolède, on découvre comment cette période, pas si obscure que çà, contrairement à beaucoup d'idées reçues, fut riche en arts sculptés et en orfèvrerie...
L'église wisigoth, qui accueille le musée des Concilios, date du VII ième siècle...: subsiste les restes d'un magnifique cancel de marbre( en piteux état, mais non restauré...)
une cuve de sarcophage datant de l'antiquité tardive(310-325), mais celle-çi restaurée en plâtre...
et surtout, clin d'oeil à Arrawak et à Lacalo, un antiphonaire mozzarabe (tiré du "liber himnorum" en date du X ième siècle) où, pour faire la nique à Le Pen et à Besson, la bible est transcrite en caractères arabes et latins se chevauchant...
Il en est de même d'extraits d'un fameux "codice": conciliorum collectio( conservé à la cathédrale de Tolède, lui aussi transcrit en caractères arabes et latins...en date de I034...
il n'y avait pas encore de ministère de l'intégration et de l'identité nationale...les arabes nous aidaient à transcrire notre bible chrétienne...heureux temps...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
un antiphonaire mozzarabe (tiré du "liber himnorum" en date du X ième siècle) où, pour faire la nique à Le Pen et à Besson, la bible est transcrite en caractères arabes et latins se chevauchant...
Il en est de même d'extraits d'un fameux "codice": conciliorum collectio( conservé à la cathédrale de Tolède, lui aussi transcrit en caractères arabes et latins...en date de I034...
il n'y avait pas encore de ministère de l'intégration et de l'identité nationale...les arabes nous aidaient à transcrire notre bible chrétienne...heureux temps...
Bonjour Tomas,
Je me suis plongée dans Wikipedia à la découverte du rite mozarabe
et je trouve très belle cette histoire de l'autodafé de Tolède !
Cette tolérance de plusieurs cultes est à souligner, car elle a tout de même été rare dans l'histoire des religions et des hommes plutôt attachés au prosélytisme ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
et je trouve très belle cette histoire de l'autodafé de Tolède !
Cette tolérance de plusieurs cultes est à souligner, car elle a tout de même été rare dans l'histoire des religions et des hommes plutôt attachés au prosélytisme ...
Ola, lacalette,
je partage ton point de vue...il y a même de mauvaises langues qui rapportent que c'est le Grand Califat qui nous a permis de récupérer "notre célèbre culture grecque" à travers ses philosophes, ses médecins et ses universitaires.
L'Islam érudit ne s'est figé qu'à la fin du XV ième siècle, Damas, Alexandrie et d'autres grandes cités arabes étaient célèbres pour la qualité de leurs chercheurs et de leurs passeurs...mais l'on s'éloigne d'Ulysse et de Don Quichotte...
De chateau en chateau: de Tolède à Avila (10)
Après Tolède, le sentier de Don Quichotte cède la place au fameux chemin de saint Jacques: les espagnols sont passionnés de chemins de saint Jacques: chaque région, avec le bonheur et la manne des crédits européens, s'est fortement investie dans ces itinéraires, liés à une histoire très forte...
Saint jacques le Matamore(le bouteur de Maures...) celui qui devait aider à bouter les Maures hors d'Espagne...
Le culte de Saint Jacques y est d'ailleurs omni-présent...
Entre Tolède et Avila, cet itinéraire n'a jamais été aussi beau: il quitte les grandes mesetas de la Mancha(vertes à cette période de l'année) pour gravir la sierra de Bejar(Avila est presqu'à 1.400 mètres d'altitude...)
C'est un plaisir de faire halte tous les vingt cinq kilomètres dans les villages jacquaires désignés: Escalona, Saint Martin de Valdeglesias, Cebreros etc...
Tolède et Avila, les deux capitales régionales, sont éloignées de I40 kms, la fameuse nationale 403, sans doute une des plus belles nationales espagnoles, qu'une autoroute, une de plus, pauvres espagnols qui défigurent leur pays au profit du dieu "vitesse", est entrain de grignoter...
cette autoroute ne gagnera jamais la sierra de Bejar, à cheval sur les deux régions de Castille et de la Mancha, parsemée d'embalses(retenues derrière barrages) et de routes à virages, forêts de pins et de sapins, chalets perdus aux bords des lacs ou dans la forêt...
Les villages deviennent de plus en plus sauvages jusqu'au plus sauvage d'entre eux, surnommé "El barraquo(reflet des misères du siècle avant l'arrivée de la consommation...)
L'itinéraire est parsemé de formidables forteresses, à demi-ruinées ou restaurées façon disney land, ce qui fait la joie des collègiens et des petits écoliers...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
le sentier de Don Quichotte en sentier de saint JACQUES(11)
De Tolède à Avila, on peut suivre les panneaux bleus à ciel étoilé doré indiquant le chemin de saint jacques...
Pauvres randonneurs condamnés à suivre partiellement la célèbre nationale 403...
dans des paysages de sierra...ces paysages étaient ceux des peuples celtes d'il y a deux millénaires...
puisqu'à saint Martin de Valdeiglesias(km 570 depuis Valencia, 96 kms de Tolède)
on peut admirer les fameux toros de GUISANDO, troupeau de pierres celtiques datant de deux millénaires avant JC...
les espagnols les ont mis admirablement en valeur, sur les lieux de fouille d'un habitat de la même époque...
Il faut caresser les taureaux de pierre et penser à ces sculpteurs celtes de 200 avant JC, avec quel silex, quels outils, pouvaient ils rendre ainsi figure animal à ces monstres de pierre ?
Les romains qui les découvrirent en firent des images de dieux(marques romaines à leur pied) et les espagnols, qui les vénèrent, disposent de loin en loin, sur les autoroutes du Sud, de belles copies de métal...
Ces taureaux veillent ainsi sur les vignes, les champs d'olivier et les cultures méditerranéennes d'une Espagne rurale, veinée et blessée de tant d'autoroutes...
le touriste pressé ne verra pas grand chose que les stations CEPSA rouges et bleues, copies de nos stations TOTAL rouges, entre deux immenses taureaux de métal trônant sur les mesetas de l'intérieur...
En dehors des autoroutes, si l'on fait l'effort de les éviter, nichent de très beaux pueblos, vivants et colorés, veillant chacun leur saint patron, dans des cryptes de granit et des cercueils dorés...
Méditerranée, mythologies, pays latins, Ulysse les aime ainsi avec leur formidable passé au goût de vin et d'olives...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Il faut caresser les taureaux de pierre et penser à ces sculpteurs celtes de 200 avant JC, avec quel silex, quels outils, pouvaient ils rendre ainsi figure animal à ces monstres de pierre ?
Elles sont où les photos des toros ?
J’aurais aimé voir …
Mais es- tu sûr qu’ils ont été taillés avec des silex ??? 😉
200 ans avant JC, ce n'est plus la préhistoire, on était déjà depuis longtemps à l’âge du fer avec des outils proches de ceux qu’on a maintenant ...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
depuis que je cyber-nomadise, je me perds dans mes fichiers-photos...je te retrouverai les célèbres toros de pierre, perdus entre deux clés USB...
pour le moment, je remonte sans courage vers le Nord et ses frimas(il fait 38 ° àMKH...à confondre tous les saunas et autres hammans...)
choisir des villes en "es" pour un retour d'Espagne: (13)
On ne revient jamais indemne d'Espagne...du moins dans le domaine des sensations...D'où l'intérêt de rentrer par le grand Sud de la france et de choisir des villes en "es"...
Mai est le mois des corridas en Espagne et en Provence française...les torrils madrilènes sont bourrés des mois à l'avance et les réservations pour les célèbres ganaderias andalouses sont à guichet fermé...
Il faut choisir le dernier jour des grandes ferias provencales...bouteilles de verres brisées, papier gras, odeurs d'urine et d'alcools mêlés laissent à penser ce que furent les jours et les nuits précédant...
Après la grand messe sévillane dans une ville en "es", les courses de vachettes et les encierros, vous ferez l'effort ou vous vous laisserez guider vers le guichet occulte des grandes arènes, vous craquerez pour deux billets et six taureaux...
Au milieu de cinq mille personnes silencieuses(hormis des excités venus d'Istres...)religieusement attentifs, vous assisterez à la célébration du plus beau des mythes méditerranéens: soleil, sang, ors; vie et mort de l'homme ou du taureau...
les taureaux de la ganaderia FANO ont entre quatre et cinq ans et demi, pèsent tous entre cinq cents et cinq cent vingt kilogs..
Fiers, musclés, ombrageux, ils sont prêts, à leur entrée dans le torril, à éventrer la palissade d'un coup de cornes...
Si le soleil est de la partie, les ors des habits de lumières des toreros joueront avec le jaune, le rouge, le violet des muletas...
Manuel Manzanares et Ivan Fandino, les plus célèbres toreros du moment, vous effraieront par leur courage dans leurs vueltas...au coeur de l'arène...
Le sang bouillonne sur le poitrail du taureau, piqué plus qu'il ne faut par des picadors imbéciles et injuriés par le public, mais, par trois fois, les pleutres picadors seront jetés à terre et leurs chevaux les quatre fers en l'air (sic....)
Des sicx taureaux, pas un ne meuglera, ils mourront étonnés, percés par les dagues mortelles des élèves de Pablo Hermozo de Mendoza...
Dimanche apès-midi, les toreros seront habillés par Christian Lacroix aux arènes de Nimes...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
A la découverte du captage des eaux de l'aqueduc de Nimes (14)
chemin faisant, les villes en "es" sont plus nombreuses qu'on croit dans la grand Sud...
On peut être passionné de champignons, de porte-clés, d'étoiles et de constellations, Ulysse, lui, était passionné de vieilles pierres...
Etonné par le travail et les prouesses des ingénieurs romains à UZES, ville en "es" s'il en est, à 58 kms de Nimes, avec 12 mètres de dénivellation seulement, les ingénieurs romains avaient construit un ingénieux système de captage des eaux de l'Euze pour la conduire, 17 kms plus loin, franchir le célèbre Pont du gard...et 41 kms plus loin encore, atteindre NImes , l capitale romaine régionale...
Sur les canalisations de captage,2000 ans après leurs réalisations, on observe encore sous l'enduit mural d'origine le calfatage au goudron des murs des conduits...
Prouesse des calculs, exploits des macons, qualité des matériaux, à quelques centaines de mètres du Duché d'Uzès, du palais des merveilles de la duchesse de Crussol, fameuse fan du Général Boulanger auquel elle laissa 3 milliards de francs-or, le plaisir est de suivre le cours de l'Euze jusqu'à l'ouvrage de captage des eaux...
Suivre la canalisation romaine jusqu'aux barbelés égoistes d'un paysan jaloux de son champ...
Vos rêves romains se perdent alors dans les broussailles et les frondaisons...
Il est temps de reprendre votre route, les gorges de l'Ardèche vous attendent...
Vous emprunterez la route de Stendhal le long du fleuve RHONE à partir de Bourg-Saint-Andéol(ne manquez pas le bel Hotel DEGAINE sur les quais, à côté de l'hotel du Prieuré...)
Bourg-Saint-Andéol, une belle provinciale endormie, au bord du Rhône grossi par les crues de printemps...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Oui cet aqueduc est un ouvrage d'art étonnant !
Du double de la longueur nécessaire à vol d'oiseau pour pouvoir utiliser les dénivellés.
Et arriver au final à un aqueduc de plus de 50 km !
Mais ce qui me plait c'est cette réutilisation ultérieure de toutes ces pierres pour reconstruire ailleurs, autre chose : église ( Bezouce ), chapelles ( Saint Martin de Remoulins), maisons ( Marguerite) , parties de chateaux ( Lédenons )...
On retrouve cela maintes fois dans l'histoire, dans de nombreux pays ...
La seconde vie des pierres ...
Un autre exemple insolite :
A la Citerne Basilique d’ Istanbul on peut voir une tête de méduse issue du temple d’Apollon de Didymes , utilisée à l’envers comme socle à la base d’une colonne de cette citerne !
D’ailleurs beaucoup d’autres colonnes de cet édifice ont été « empruntées » à des temples voisins, ce qui explique qu’elles soient de style différent.
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
ca y est...le périple est terminé. Je profite de cette fin un peu abrupte pour te donner deux informations:
1)ne pas croire que sainte Thérèse d'Avila(Avila , ville terminale du parcours) fut aussi sainte que les Espagnolsla vénèrent...
Ulysse en discutant avec son hotelière à Avila (remarquable adresse: Hosterai Los Cancelas)
découvrit que non seulement sainte thérèse était une riche héritière d'Avila, pratiquement princesse d'Avila, mais, honte pour les espagnols croyants, qu'elle avait vécu les deux dernières années de sa vie avec un nommé saint Jean de La Croix...
2) ni l'un, ni l'autre, d'ailleurs, me confia l'hotelière qui voyait Ulysse intéressé par la vie des deux "saints" ne sont enterr��s à Avila...
sainte thérèse reposeà Alba de TORMES,
et le pauvre Abélard, Saint Jean de Lacroix, repose à Fontiveras...
il n'empêche que pour les amateurs d'histoire de l'art, ces détails de la petite histoire donnent un étonnan, t relief à la représentation de la sainte par LE BERNIN, la célèbre "extase de sainte Thérèse" entr'apercue dans une église de Rome...
Ulysse était finalement indécrottable à vouloir mélanger le sacré et le profane, et Inès, l'hotesse de Las Cancelas, rue "Lacallée", ne put que lui laisser les coordonnées des tombeaux des deux saints, en même temps qu'elle lui lui laissait celle de son établissement:
6, cruz vieja
antigua posada del siglo XV,
situada junto a la catedral,
y dentro del enclave de la antigua calle della muerte y la vida,
ha sido conservada exquisitamente en su riqueza aquitectonica de la epoca...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Carnets de voyage › Espagne / France › Sud-Ouest · 85 replies
Après un voyage en Aragon et Navarre (2016) et un séjour express sur la Costa Brava (2017), nous sommes retournés en Espagne en 2019, mais cette fois l'Espagne…
Carnets de voyage › Espagne / Portugal · 47 replies
Jeudi 19 juillet: cap sur l’Espagne Anne et moi arrivons vers 19h à l’aéroport et nous découvrons le tout récent MP2, le terminal low cost de Marseille,…
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June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
This travel journal summarizes a trip I took in March to Argentine and Chilean Patagonia. It starts in El Calafate and ends in Ushuaia. During my planning, I considered looking into the Australis cruise from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, as well as the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. In both cases, I was put off by the prices. Instead of the cruise, I found two interesting wildlife excursions from Punta Arenas: whale watching in the Strait of Magellan and observing king penguins in Tierra del Fuego. The journey to Ushuaia was by bus. For Torres del Paine, things were a bit confusing, so I reached out to two agencies. In the end, I went with a rental car option, overnight stays on-site, and day hikes. I shared my full itinerary with the agency and ended up being taken care of by a local Argentine agency and a Chilean one.
So, here we go...
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
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 rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
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 on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After the summer of 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland for the summer of 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which, from what we’ve read, is stunning but very crowded (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last wild space—I think it’s incredibly inspiring!!
The downside of this choice is that there are no resupply options in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with Sarek in mind.
But hey, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to abandon the Sarek crossing.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our overstuffed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - So, Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
Coming up:
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
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
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
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:
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.
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!
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
S��o Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
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.
Just back from two weeks in Andalusia, and I wanted to share this experience with you—maybe it’ll help with planning a trip. I’ll start with a quick recap in this post and try to add photos and day-by-day details later (still sorting through them). Hope I don’t bore you too much! 😎
Trip details:
April 20 to May 4, 2019:
7 days on the Costa de la Luz (El Puerto de Santa María) in an Airbnb,
4 days at the junction of the Costa del Sol and Costa Tropical (Salobreña) in an Airbnb,
3 days at Cabo de Gata for some rest at a campsite in Los Escullos.
Two families of four, each with our own car: three 9-year-old boys and a 6-year-old girl. One family was more into city exploration (not us, but we’re working on it), and the other preferred relaxation and nature (that’s us). We speak a little Spanish.
Over 5,000 km, including 2,500 km for the round trip from Carcassonne.
The weather: Variable, but we expected better for this region in late April. The first week on the Costa de la Luz was sometimes chilly (< 20°C), and the second week was warmer but not excessive (< 25°C). At least we didn’t get much rain!
Our budget: Around 2600 € per family:
700 € for accommodations, about 50 € per night,
1000 € for meals and restaurants. We usually spent around 50 € per family at restaurants—we ate out for lunch (except for 2–3 picnics) and cooked at home in the evenings, trying to be back by 6 PM.
600 € for activities: Río Tinto, a flamenco show, visits to the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar, Oasis Park with meals, and a kayaking trip.
300 € for gas and tolls.
Preparation: A few months ahead with bookings for accommodations and tickets for the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar. We used a few travel guides—I like the *Évasion* guide for initial planning. *Géoguide* was okay, but our friends’ *Routard* was the most useful. We also spent three months brushing up on Spanish with Mosalingua (a great spaced-repetition method, max 10 minutes a day). Downloaded Maps.me and the Andalusia map in advance—essential. And we used Tricount to track shared expenses with friends—super handy.
What we did/saw:
3 city visits (Seville, Granada, and Cádiz) + Málaga for our friends (we vetoed Córdoba—too many cities for us).
4 white villages (Vejer de la Frontera, Arcos de la Frontera, Grazalema, Ronda) + Tarifa for our friends.
Beaches (Tarifa and Bolonia, Matalascañas, Nerja, Cabo de Gata).
Nature and fun moments: Doñana National Park, a kayaking trip along the rocky coast near Nerja, and the Wild West/animal park in the Tabernas Desert.
A little culture: Río Tinto mines, the archaeological site of Itálica, Columbus’s caravels, Nerja Cave for us, and the Picasso Museum in Málaga for our friends. Plus, seeing the ham-drying process in the Alpujarras (for our friends).
Our highlights
Nerja and the surrounding villages: The rocky coast was amazing, and we loved the kayaking trip, even if the water was freezing for snorkeling. The beaches are sheltered from the wind, the town is charming, and the cave is incredible.
El Rocío and Doñana National Park. El Rocío has a timeless, almost Wild West vibe—we could’ve stayed a day or two. The quiet and pine scents reminded us of the Landes region.
What we didn’t love as much:
Río Tinto mines: Not super exciting, and the guides’ nonstop chatter kind of ruined the "nature" experience.
Our little regrets (for next time):
Forgetting our passports and missing a day trip to Tangier from Tarifa.
Not having an extra day around Nerja to go snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada—just 1.5 hours away (the kayak guide suggested it).
Not spending at least one night in El Rocío to explore Doñana National Park at dawn.
Antequera with the Guadalhorce reservoir and the Caminito del Rey (but it would’ve meant 2 more hours of driving, and we didn’t have the energy).
My general impressions of Andalusia and Spain
Landscapes: A feeling of extreme concentration of a single activity in some areas—endless olive groves, wind farms on the Costa de la Luz (which I thought were well-integrated), rows of buildings along the Costa del Sol (yikes, glad we didn’t stop there), greenhouses around Almería (a shame to have frozen the coast for so many kilometers), and the massive industrial port of Huelva.
What surprised us compared to France was the lack of small hamlets—villages are clearly defined, and people cluster there, leaving vast landscapes without human presence. In France, you find houses scattered everywhere.
Roads: Relatively few tolls. Sure, rest areas aren’t as nice as in France, but the roads are in good condition, and our wallet was happy. The roads are pretty straight with countless bridges and tunnels—the upside (besides fast travel) is that there aren’t many secondary roads disrupting the scenery.
Tourism and activities: A huge variety and richness. Feels like everyone can find something they like, and 15 days barely scratched the surface. It’s amazing how quickly you go from the coast to snow-capped peaks (Sierra Nevada) or from farmland to desert (Tabernas). And the mix of European and Arabic architecture in the same city is really special.
One small regret: Not interacting more with locals. We didn’t luck out with our Airbnbs. But shopkeepers were great—very patient with my broken Spanish! :-)
Overall, I think our choice to stay on the Costa de la Luz and then near Nerja worked well. We could explore pretty easily (even if we logged a lot of kilometers), and the settings were fantastic. The 3 days of total relaxation at Cabo de Gata were perfect.
If you prefer shorter stops, you could try staying in El Rocío (easy access to Seville and great for an early visit to Doñana National Park) or maybe Grazalema for a hike in the mountains (weather-dependent). And of course, Tarifa for a day trip to Tangier or Gibraltar.