Travel journals

Hi everyone, We’re just back from a month-long trip to Morocco in our camper van. After crossing France (we left from the Nantes area) and Spain, we arrived in Algeciras where we bought our boat tickets to Tangier. When we got to Tangier, as we were going through customs, you can imagine our surprise when the customs officer took our road map of Morocco and pointed out the label "Western Sahara" (just like in the forum’s destination section, by the way!). He wanted it to say "Moroccan Sahara" instead!!! But there was nothing we could do—it was an old map... He wouldn’t listen, and after long discussions with the other (younger) customs officers, he finally gave it back and let us through... Unbelievable! Later, we heard that other travelers had their maps confiscated outright. So, hide it well if you want to keep yours!!!

Anyway, we skirted around Tangier’s suburbs—pretty grim—and finally arrived in Asilah.

Following the coast and the long promenade along the beach, we reached the campsite. It was a bit crowded, not much shade, but it wasn’t far from the medina or the beach, and it wasn’t expensive. There’s some life here: Moroccan families seem to live on-site, in tents or basic bungalows. A woman was cooking tagine on a brazier—we were right in the atmosphere! The night was quiet, and we slept well. We set off on foot, walking along the seafront to the medina... We’d already been here in 2009. It was less touristy back then! Still, at this early hour, the little streets inside were very quiet. The walls had been freshly whitewashed, and there were even more murals than before. Around 11:30 AM, we strolled along the ramparts by the sea. There was a nice breeze! And a lot more people around. We enjoyed a milkshake on the terrace of a café overlooking the beach that stretches out at the foot of the medina. Some young guys were having fun diving off the rocks—and even off the top of the wall!

Hi everyone,

Here’s my feedback from my trip to Slovakia this summer. It’s a really great destination, still off the beaten tourist track, and perfect if you love old stones and hiking. Super budget-friendly too!

When: July 3–17, 2019 Flight tickets CRL-BTS: 60 € per person with Ryanair, booked 4 weeks in advance Accommodation budget: 601 € (double room with private bathroom, no breakfast) Car rental: Škoda Fabia for 180 € for 14 days with Budget + 90 € for gas (about 1300 km) GPS: Google Maps on my phone, routes saved and available offline Cost of living: 4.50 € for a plate of bryndzové halušky (gnocchi with sheep cheese), 1.50 € for a half-liter of beer (alcoholic or non-alcoholic)

To prepare for this first road trip, since I started planning in June and the destination was chosen based on the flight price (thanks, Skyscanner!), I drew a lot of inspiration from this thread: voyageforum.com/...-slovaquie-d6596505/

Itinerary: Wednesday, July 3: Arrival in Bratislava, picked up the car, visited and stayed overnight in Pezinok Thursday, July 4: Visited Červený Kameň and Trnava on the way to Trenčín, stayed overnight in Trenčín Friday, July 5: Visited Trenčín and stayed overnight in Trenčín Saturday, July 6: Visited Bojnice on the way to the Malá Fatra, stayed overnight in Terchová Sunday, July 7: Hiked in the Malá Fatra (Jánošíkove Diery trail), stayed overnight in Terchová Monday, July 8: Visited Vlkolínec, Oravský Podzámok, Zuberec on the way to Poprad, stayed overnight in Poprad Tuesday, July 9: Visited Spišská Sobota, hiked around Tatranská Lomnica, stayed overnight in Poprad Wednesday, July 10: Hiked near Štrbské Pleso, stayed overnight in Poprad Thursday, July 11: Visited Kežmarok, stayed overnight in Poprad Friday, July 12: Hiked in Slovenský raj (Suchá Belá trail), stayed overnight in Poprad Saturday, July 13: Visited Levoča and Spiš Castle on the way to Košice, stayed overnight in Košice Sunday, July 14: Visited Košice and drove to Banská Štiavnica, visited and stayed overnight in Banská Štiavnica Monday, July 15: Originally planned to return to Bratislava in the morning, but we ended up spending the day in Banská Štiavnica, stayed overnight in Bratislava Tuesday, July 16: Visited Bratislava and stayed overnight Wednesday, July 17: Bratislava, returned to Charleroi

If I were to do it again: - I’d spend one less night in Trenčín. The castle and old town can be seen quickly; - And I’d spend an extra night in the Malá Fatra. I’m even thinking of going back for a full week just to hike there. The accommodation was perfectly located and very comfortable: www.montanask.eu/; - I’d bring a down jacket for hiking in the Tatras. We had 12°C and rain 4 out of 5 days; - I’d spend more time in Banská Štiavnica, the real highlight of this trip; - The drive between Košice and Banská Štiavnica was too long; it should’ve been split into two; - I didn’t visit any wooden churches—another reason to go back!

Random notes: - Slovakia is 1.5 times the size of Belgium but has half the population. As a result, cities are a manageable size and not overcrowded, and you come across tiny villages very often. - The historic centers are generally well preserved, but I’m disappointed that not all of them are pedestrian-only. Seeing a car parked in front of a UNESCO-listed building is a bit of an eyesore. - Speaking of cars, most parking lots are paid and expensive (1 € or 2 € per hour). Be sure to look up free parking spots using Google Maps, Tripadvisor, etc. - So, around Poprad, leave your car at the hotel and take the mountain train that stops at all the ski resorts in the High Tatras. A day pass costs 4 €, and a weekly pass is 16 €—much cheaper than daily parking. - Nature is everywhere and perfect for hiking: primeval forests, via ferratas, high mountains—you’re spoiled for choice. - Tourism felt very “local” to me; I got the impression that Slovaks travel and hike a lot within their own country. - I visited many castles (Červený Kameň, Bojnice, Trenčín, Oravský Podzámok, Kežmarok, Spiš, Banská Štiavnica), and no two were alike. Unfortunately, for many, guided tours are mandatory and only available in Slovak. Still, expect to pay between 7 € and 10 € for entry. - Same goes for the silver mines in Banská Štiavnica: the visit was basically a 2 km underground walk with stops for explanations that were incomprehensible but sounded interesting. - You eat well and cheaply, especially in *kolibas*—log cabins serving traditional dishes. Fun fact: the weight of the dish is listed on the menu. - The local wines are excellent and often sold by the deciliter (1 dl = 0.70 €). Don’t hesitate to take the wine route near Pezinok, but beware—zero tolerance for drinking and driving. - From Bratislava, between June and September, you can go to Vienna by taking a Danube cruise. By road or train, Vienna is only an hour away from the Slovak capital. So, if flights to Vienna are too expensive, consider a detour via Bratislava, which can be visited very quickly.

In pictures: Trenčín Castle

Bojnice Castle

Hiking in the Malá Fatra

Vlkolínec (UNESCO World Heritage site)

Oravský Podzámok

Zuberec

Spišská Sobota

Štrbské Pleso

Spiš Castle

Banská Štiavnica (UNESCO World Heritage site)

Bratislava

My first trip to Iceland, in 1974.

Yes, you might be surprised: my first trip to Iceland dates back to July 1974. It’s been a little over 50 years since I first set foot on Icelandic soil. I was 23 years old. At the time, I was a geography student. I had just earned my bachelor’s degree and was finishing my master’s (what we’d now call a "master’s 2") in physical geography, with two specialties: glaciology and volcanology. In both fields, professors showed us slides of Iceland—glaciers and volcanoes—and in tutorials, we worked on maps and documents related to the physical geography of Iceland. So there you have it: ice and fire, in Icelandic « ís og eldur », I learned that year that it was Iceland’s national motto, and that’s what drew me there for my first big trip.

Iceland in 1974 was very different from today. It wasn’t a common destination. There were practically no tourists or tourist infrastructure. Some sites now famous and overcrowded were only accessible after hours of hiking on rough, unmarked trails. GPS didn’t exist, but I had managed to get local 1:100,000 maps that were pretty well done. I took my time to circle the entire island, camping in the wild. Most of my meager budget went toward the flight ticket and renting a Volkswagen "Beetle."

There were no paved roads in the country except in central Reykjavík and the main street of Akureyri. What’s now called Route 1 was everywhere dirt and gravel, pretty bumpy in places. According to my maps, this road didn’t allow for a full loop around Iceland: a section of about a hundred kilometers was missing on the south coast. But when I arrived in that area, I learned at a gas station that the last missing section had just been completed, finally allowing a full loop without backtracking. It was the section crossing the vast Skeiðarársandur, southwest of Vatnajökull. The new road was just a bulldozer track through this black ash desert. We crossed the multiple channels of the sandur on long single-lane wooden bridges. On these long pilings, the road was made of roughly nailed thick planks that made an awful racket when the car drove over them.

A nasty surprise: the cost of living. The difference with France seemed huge—everything was two to three times more expensive than back home. Prices were way beyond my tiny budget, and I wondered how I’d manage to get by.

The Icelanders back then were very different from today. From the start, I felt like a real outsider, ostracized, even outright rejected. Several times, when I asked for permission to pitch my small tent near a farm, the door would slam shut as soon as I asked (in English). Without a word… *Bam!*

So I struggled to feed myself, lacking money. I mostly bought loaves of sliced bread and corn flakes (unknown in France at the time), which I ate with cold, sugary milk. It was the cheapest and most filling thing I could find.

In Reykjavík, my only luxury was daring to enter a snack bar. There, I’d treat myself to a coffee or tea, having quickly learned that after paying for a cup once, you could go back to the counter and have it refilled as much as you wanted. I dreaded being asked if I wanted something to eat because I couldn’t afford it. Luckily, no one asked. So, alone in my corner, I’d pull out my loaf of sliced bread from my backpack and make sandwiches with the contents of the two plastic bottles on every table—one red, one yellow: ketchup and sweet mustard. I avoided the sideways glances from other customers. I’d eat my sandwiches and leave, both full and warmed up.

One time, near Selfoss, I saw a truck stop by the road and pick up two large aluminum cans left at the end of a farm track. A little further down the road, two more similar cans. I realized these cans were there to be collected by… well, I didn’t know who. No one in sight for miles. So, I’ll admit it: I stopped and opened one of those large cans, which contained a dairy product—a kind of very dense, compact white cheese (I later learned it was skyr). I scooped a nice layer from the top, smoothed the surface with my spoon, and carefully closed the can again. Yes, I know it wasn’t right, but that was over fifty years ago, and I can admit it now since the statute of limitations has surely passed, right? Another time, I boiled a piece of dried fish, hard as wood, for a long time on my camping stove—fish I’d taken from huge outdoor drying racks by the side of the road. On the road heading north from Reykjavík, the Akranes underwater tunnel didn’t exist yet. To get to Borgarnes and Snæfellsnes, you had to go around Hvalfjörður. Following the shore of this long fjord, I stumbled upon a whaling station in full operation. Intrigued by the plumes of steam and the sounds of machinery from the road, I stopped, and surprisingly, no one stopped me from entering the vast platform where workers were butchering a large whale. I’ll never forget the acrid smell of those huge piles of meat and bones, fat and guts, the screams of saws and winches, the steam from the boilers… A monstrous, hallucinatory sight that would shape a major interest for the rest of my life: whales.

At the end of my journey, I spent three days in the Westman Islands. The famous eruption of the Eldfell volcano had happened just months earlier, in 1973, and was barely over. Visiting Heimaey was one of the goals of my trip to Iceland, given my volcanology studies. Part of the fishing port was filled in by lava flows, and the entrance channel was reduced to just a few meters wide. Most of the village was covered by a layer of black, hot ash eight to ten meters thick. I walked on the roofs of houses—every now and then, a chimney or skylight would stick out. In the rain, this hot ash released intense steam; you couldn’t see twenty meters ahead. It felt like being in a giant outdoor sauna. The entire population had been evacuated during the eruption, but some residents were starting to return. Bulldozers and excavators were gradually clearing this gigantic mass of ash, street by street, layer by layer, avoiding demolishing the buried houses. A constant stream of trucks dumped these millions of tons of ash into the sea from a cliff. To finish clearing the houses, it was done with shovels and wheelbarrows, and this task was left to the homeowners. One day, I had the chance to lend a hand (or rather, a shovel) to a couple finishing clearing their house. They offered to let me pitch my tent near their place, on a thick layer of warm ash (I’d never experienced such comfort through my sleeping mat), and I’ll never forget that they gave me a big bowl of delicious soup they’d just made. The best meal I had during that trip. The next day, climbing the volcano, which was still smoking and spewing furiously, I nearly suffocated from sulfur dioxide and almost melted the soles of my shoes. So it was during this initiatory trip, 50 years ago, that my addiction to Iceland was born. The following year in Paris, by sheer chance—and perhaps helped by the magic of my amazing Kodachrome slides—I met a young woman who would become my wife. Very quickly, she became as hooked as I was on "the island of the world’s creation" (as I called it back then), and later, it was often her who’d say, "So… how about going back to Iceland this year?" We went back many times, in every season, summer and winter, and in every region of the country. And every time, when the plane starts its descent toward Keflavík Airport, we look at each other like kids invited to a birthday party, discovering the cake buffet… "Here we are… we’re back!"

Our travel conditions changed a lot afterward. With a better budget but still traveling independently, renting well-equipped 4x4s that let us go almost anywhere, at our own pace, including the highlands of the country’s interior. But always taking our time, dedicating each trip to fully exploring one region rather than rushing through kilometers. And leaving time for beautiful hikes or simply doing nothing—sitting at a viewpoint and just watching, observing the wild nature, in contemplative mode… Always staying with locals in the countryside, preferably on real farms with animals, thanks to an association of farmers offering accommodations. We speak fluent English and have learned a few common Icelandic phrases and expressions over time. With a bit of experience, we developed our little techniques for starting interesting conversations with Icelanders… who, thankfully, are no longer as distant as they were in 1974! We even made friends there.

We particularly loved the rugged, wild Iceland—not necessarily the desolate highlands of the interior, but rather the isolated regions where a few very old families still cling to their land and roots. With a soft spot for the Snæfellsnes Peninsula and especially the Westfjords, the "Vestfirðir," as the Icelanders call them. But we also love the Northeast, and even the far Northeast, so remote and where almost no one goes. Over time, we’ve done a lot of reading. We’ve learned a great deal about Iceland—its painful history, its tormented geography, its economy, its incredible medieval literature (the Sagas), and some quirks of its culture. And we greatly appreciate its contemporary authors, whose books fill several shelves in our library.

In 2008, on a return trip to Iceland, we went to the Westman Islands, to Heimaey. I hadn’t been back since my first trip in 1974, right after the Eldfell eruption. It was a pilgrimage for me, so many years later! An emotional moment seeing the huge frozen lava flow again. On the trails now set up to explore this vast chaos, people have put up signs indicating the names of the streets buried under the lava and the nature of the crushed buildings fifteen meters below. Plaques mark the locations of public buildings—here was the school, down there was the hospital… The part of the town that was under ash has been cleared, but not entirely—two streets were left partially buried, probably to show tourists. The volcano is still hot at the top. We climbed it, but this time I didn’t melt my soles.

We often talk about Iceland. We still call it "the island of the world’s creation" and tell our traveler friends how much this country fascinated and enchanted us. Those who’ve never been find it a bit odd, but everyone who’s been there understands.

You may have noticed I’m talking about it in the past tense… Indeed, I’ll admit that for several years now, we haven’t been back to Iceland, and I don’t think we’ll return. What we see on social media and in the news puts us off a bit. Mass tourism has arrived, and many developments have been made—not always for the best. Now, with two and a half million visitors a year, Iceland welcomes nearly six times its population. Tourism has become a key source of income for Icelanders. Good for them, maybe, but we don’t like it at all. We’re a bit wild, perhaps. And besides… the world is vast… We loved Iceland passionately, but we’ve always been inveterate travelers in general. So over the past fifty years, we’ve certainly explored all of Iceland’s regions, but also in the North Atlantic—the beautiful Norway, the stunning Lofoten Islands, the Shetland archipelago, the rugged and grand Faroe Islands, and then further north in the Arctic—the icy Greenland, Svalbard at the edge of the world, and even the Sjuøyane, the last islands before the North Pole, with small groups of enthusiasts and scientists on expedition ships. And many other regions of the world, but always with a taste for slightly offbeat places, both in terms of landscapes and nature and ways of life. Central Asia, the Azores, Peru, Bolivia, the Andes, Chile, Argentina, the vast Patagonia, Tierra del Fuego… and other little secret gems we won’t reveal. Not even on Voyage Forum.

But everywhere—yes, I mean everywhere—wherever you are, wherever you go, there’s always a moment when you think of Iceland…

Chris 51 - November 2025.

Hi everyone,

Actually, we ended up going to Japan almost by chance. I’d caught glimpses of the country during business trips, and it had been on my “wish list” for a while, but I thought we’d go “when the kids were grown up.”

But this summer (2016), the kids couldn’t agree on a destination—their wishes were completely opposite. Then, realizing that flight tickets weren’t outrageously priced—and having read that Japan wasn’t as expensive as people think—we, the parents, suggested Japan… while warning that it would be scorching hot and humid and that no one should complain. Our eldest (18) was immediately thrilled: “Oh! Mom! I’ve always dreamed of going to Japan!” She convinced her brother (16) that it was the perfect destination. Deal sealed: we’re going to Japan, but no one complains about the heat.

After some forum discussions and family brainstorming, I settled on the following itinerary. One non-negotiable shaped part of our choices: being in Hiroshima on August 6th to attend the lantern floating ceremony. To avoid overloading the trip with extra transport, we skipped Nara, Nikko, and Kamakura.

Day 1 - Arrival at 8:30 AM in Osaka – Kyoto - around the station Day 2 - Kyoto - East - night: Kyoto Day 3 - Kyoto - North and center - night: Kyoto Day 4 - Osaka (stroll with Osaka Safari) - Fushimi Inari -night : Kyoto Day 5 - Train - Naoshima - night: Uno Day 6 - Teshima -night: Uno Day 7 - Naoshima – Hiroshima - night: Hiroshima Day 8 - Hiroshima – Commemorations - night: Hiroshima Day 10 - Miyajima- night: Miyajima Day 10 - Miyajima - Himeji Castle - night: Osaka Day 11 - Osaka - night: Osaka Day 12 - Kyoto - West -night: Osaka Day 13 - Kanazawa to Ainokura - night: Ainokura Day 14 - Shirakawa-go - Takayama - night: Takayama Day 15 - Kamikochi night: Takayama Day 16 - Takayama - return to Kanazawa night: Kanazawa Day 17 - Kanazawa -night: Kanazawa Day 18 - Travel to Tokyo (Shibuya) -night: Tokyo Day 19 - Tokyo (visit with Tokyo Free Guide – Yoyogi Park - Meiji Shrine - Harajuku - Takeshita-dori - Omote Sando - Odaiba) - night: Tokyo Day 20 - Tokyo (with Tokyo Safari) - night: Tokyo Day 21 - Tokyo (Tsukiji, Hama-Rikyu Onshi Teien, Asakusa and Senso-ji, Kappabashi, Ameyoko, and Ueno) - night: Tokyo Day 22 - Tokyo (Shibuya-Yoyogi Park again - Ikebukuro - Shinjuku (Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, Omoide-yokocho, Golden Gai) - night: Tokyo Day 23 - Tokyo (Yanaka – Ueno – Edo-Tokyo Museum - Takashita-Dori again - back to Shibuya) - departure at 10:50 PM for Paris

(You can access the published days directly by clicking on them).

The itinerary perfectly matched our expectations: a good pace, a wide variety of visits, the must-sees, but also a first taste of rural Japan. If we were to do it again, I’d do exactly the same (except for the back-and-forth between Kyoto and Osaka on Days 4 and 12, which were due to my desire to explore Osaka with Osaka Safari). Of course, we had to skip some sights, especially in Kyoto where we missed a few “highlights,” but that was a deliberate choice—I’d limited our time in the city, which is known for being stifling in summer.

For accommodations, we mixed Airbnb apartments and quadruple rooms in guesthouses and ryokan. It worked out perfectly. The apartments gave us more space and the chance to dine in some evenings, while the guesthouses and ryokan helped us experience Japanese customs.

First, a quick recap: all four of us were enchanted by our trip. Japan is a constant source of wonder, just like the preface of *Tokyo Sanpo* by Florent Chavouet describes—I’ll take this opportunity to plug the book, which I read with great pleasure after our vacation. That’s exactly it: everything is a reason for amazement. Everything is so different from home. I wanted to photograph everything around me constantly. I promise, I won’t say “photograph like a Japanese” anymore—during this trip, *I* was the Japanese. And I better understand the culture shock Japanese travelers experience in Europe.

As a friend of mine put it: “It’s simple—they have ten fingers, so they count in base 10. Otherwise, they do everything differently from us.” Well summarized.

Another thing: everything is easy. Everything seems to have its place and be exactly where it should be. The smallest detail seems to have been thought out to make life easier. Things that come to mind: the incredibly well-designed signage in train stations and the subway, the ubiquitous public toilets, designated smoking areas, those hyper-detailed maps with all the useful information available at every place we visited… These maps are so well done that we got into the habit of picking them up systematically. It’s that simple: I came back to Paris with a complete collection. And when we arrived in Takayama by car, our first stop was at the train station to get THE map. But this order goes beyond all these practical elements. There’s a certain *je ne sais quoi* that makes you feel like everything is exactly where it should be. Even during rush hour, in the crowds, people manage to avoid each other in a smooth, collision-free flow—the opposite of the Paris metro. Anyone who’s experienced certain transfers in Paris at certain times will understand.

The exquisite politeness of the Japanese and their desire to be helpful are another highlight of the trip. Every person we met tried to help us and make our lives easier. It was really great.

Oh! I almost forgot: Japan’s hyper-safe side. I’ve rarely felt as safe as I did in Japan. No need to keep an eye on your belongings—they’re not going anywhere. One example among many: in Tokyo, Japanese women leave their bags open with their smartphones casually placed on top. Even I could’ve taken them without them noticing, let alone a pickpocket… No wonder France is seen as dangerous.

That said, I’m not claiming Japanese society is flawless. The role of women and gender relations are downright shocking and archaic from our European perspective. I also don’t think I could live in such a codified society, where the individual is so dissolved into the collective. But for a vacation, it’s simply delightful. On that note, I recommend *Nââânde?!* by Eriko Nakamura, which I discovered after our trip on the recommendation of our eldest’s friend. It’s the story of a Japanese woman married to a Frenchman living in Paris, recounting her astonishment at French habits and customs. Even though I tried to be careful, I’m sure I made quite a few blunders.

As for the climate, it didn’t stop us from enjoying our trip. Sure, we were hot—*really* hot—but by protecting ourselves from the sun (hat for me, caps for the others, plus umbrellas—Japanese-style parasols) and drinking liters and liters of water, it was manageable and didn’t bother us too much, even if we probably had a slower pace than we would’ve with milder weather. That said, with small children, we would’ve struggled more.

Last point before diving into the trip details: the cost. Despite what I’d read, traveling in Japan is still expensive. I’m not talking about our specific trip, where—using our daughter’s 18th birthday and our 20th wedding anniversary as an excuse—I splurged on a few extras that drove up the cost. I was particularly surprised by the price of quadruple rooms, which is roughly the same as two double rooms. So for a family, that’s a significant extra cost. The various paid sites in Kyoto also add up. As for food, it’s generally cheap, but it would be a shame not to budget for a few extras to try some less affordable specialties—like Hida beef in our case.

We traveled as a couple from October 20 to December 11, 2025, for our second trip to India and our first time in Rajasthan, plus Mathura and Agra, which are in Uttar Pradesh but right on the border, and a 4-day flight hop to Varanasi. Here’s a non-detailed trip report—just to share some info we found useful for other travelers, along with a few places and addresses we particularly enjoyed. First off, a big thank you to (I’m using usernames) Aleph240758, Solene40, Montagnard74, and Pagaljavab, who took the time to reply to me. Some of them even take the time to create detailed and illustrated travel stories. Since I only started planning the trip in mid-August, I didn’t have much time and used the trip reports on VoyageForum to build our itinerary. One more note: everyone travels differently and has their own preferences... so I’ll just share our personal feelings, which are obviously subjective.

We bought a physical SIM card upon arriving at the airport. The Airtel stand only offers one package for 500 rupees (just under 5 €) for 28 days, with 1.5 GB of data, unlimited national SMS, and calls—more than enough. Contrary to what we’d read, we asked for activation at the counter, and it was active within 10 minutes. The SIM worked well everywhere. Watch out—like in all airports, there’s a tendency to take advantage of tourists. The Airtel counter offers to exchange money directly, and we saw people paying 20 € for the SIM.

Since we arrived at night, the metro wasn’t running anymore. Plus, if you don’t know the city, we’d recommend taking a prepaid taxi—the price is fixed, and the driver knows the destination. Be careful: the prepaid taxi counter is on the right as you exit the hall, with large fixed signs above. Many counters put out a card on the desk saying "prepaid taxi," and even the Airtel stand tries to offer supposedly prepaid taxis, which is completely false. The price they ask for could be double or triple.

Here’s an app that was super useful for us In most big cities, we used "Rapido," an Indian app like Uber, to book auto-rickshaws (you can also book motorbikes or cars). You need a local phone number for this. The big advantage? The price is fixed, though you can still leave a tip. It tracks your ride, and most importantly, the destination is entered—way more practical than hailing an auto-rickshaw on the street, where the driver says "yes, yes," gives a price, and then doesn’t know where to go once you’re on the way. No need to enter a credit card. There’s also OlaCabs, which is similar, but we couldn’t get it to work.

For transportation between stops, we used government buses (RSRTC, blue buses), sometimes taxis via apps or by asking the guesthouse for visits and hard-to-reach places. This choice was really personal and made on the spot. - **Pros:** Buses leave almost every 30 minutes everywhere, giving you a lot of freedom. Every time we left from the bus station (bus stand), we had seats. Several times, we even got to sit in the driver’s cabin! The trip takes longer than a taxi, but not *that* much longer. The price is ridiculously low—1.30 € for 100 km for men, 70 cents for women. The bus stations are in the city centers, unlike many private bus companies. We met some great people. - **Cons:** It’s not exactly clean, and you’re obviously not in the comfort of a taxi. It’s not door-to-door service, so you need to travel light. You can’t stop along the way. If you need to catch the bus mid-route, it’s usually full, and you’ll have to elbow your way in without hesitation. For a short trip, I think hiring a taxi for the whole stay makes sense. Like I said, there’s no one-size-fits-all choice, but there’s no need to be apprehensive about taking public buses.

Here’s our route map, showing the number of nights spent at each stop. Compared to our initial plan, we slept one night in Barmer instead of two because we had time to visit the market in the afternoon, saw the Kiradu site the next morning, and didn’t see the point in staying longer. We cut two of the six nights in Shekhawati. After our flight to Varanasi was canceled, we had to stay in Delhi, which actually turned out well—it let us arrive in Varanasi earlier and more rested. The timing worked well for us, with longer stops in Bundi and Udaipur.

I won’t go into detail about each stop here, but I’d be happy to answer any questions. The accommodations and restaurants mentioned are the ones that had that little something extra, and the hearts (❤️❤️❤️) mark the sites we particularly loved.

Tijana Fort Palace - Accommodation and recovery from the trip

Alwar - Palace with museum - Moosi Maharani Ki Chhatri - Large reservoir

Bharatpur Accommodation: Iora Guesthouse, 14 €/night without breakfast—great value, cheap, good meals, close to the reserve Morning at Keoladeo Reserve by bike

Mathura - Ghats (Yamuna Ghats, Vishram Ghat) to visit in the evening - Market (Chattu Bazar) - Hindu temple Shri Dwarkadheesh dedicated to Krishna - Vrindavan temple Banke Bihari, ❤️❤️❤️ a very important temple with incredible religious fervor - Vrindavan Hindu temple Balaram ISKCON

Agra Accommodation: Shivalayaa - The Divine Abode, 16 €/night with breakfast on Booking—welcoming, clean, close to the Taj Mahal - Mausoleum of Akbar the Great (in Sikandra) ❤️❤️❤️ - Mausoleum of Itimad-ud-Daulah (mini Taj) ❤️❤️❤️ - Visit the Taj early in the morning (closed on Fridays) ❤️❤️❤️ - Agra Fort ❤️❤️❤️

Dholpur - Machkund Temple with its water body - Clock Tower Ghanta Ghar - Royal stepwell Dhaulpur Bavdi

Karauli - City Palace, private visit with a guard ❤️❤️❤️ - Shri Madan Mohan Temple for the puja starting at 5:30 PM ❤️❤️❤️ - Wandering the streets We loved this stop, which is off the main tourist trail, for its pleasant atmosphere

Bhandarej This is a stop as a starting point to visit the Chand Baori stepwell in Abhaneri ❤️❤️❤️ Accommodation: Bhadrawati Palace, 53 €/night with breakfast in Bhandarej—nice, an old palace, warm welcome, booked via Hotels.com We were the only guests and had dinner with the current manager, the grandson of the Maharaja. There’s a pretty stepwell in the village, and we visited a tiny neighborhood temple where we were invited to join in the singing and dancing. Walking through the market was really enjoyable because of the kindness of the locals, who aren’t used to tourism ❤️❤️❤️

Jaipur - Hawa Mahal (Palace of Winds) - Jal Mahal - Gaitore Ki Chhatriyan ❤️❤️❤️ - Amber Fort ❤️❤️❤️ - Panna Meena Ka Kund stepwell - Galta Ji Temple (Monkey Temple) ❤️❤️❤️ - Bagru, 33 km away: visit to a fabric printing workshop with block prints (I’d noted some addresses on Google Maps). The first workshop wasn’t very welcoming and had no workers because of the humid weather. We were lucky to find another, more welcoming workshop. When the sun came out, the three female workers arrived and started their work—it was a great visit ❤️❤️❤️.

Bundi Accommodation: Hotel Bundi Inn, 25 €/night with breakfast—lovely room in a haveli, good meals with a rooftop view of the fort - Garh Palace Don’t miss: at the exit of the palace, to the left, you can access a beautiful garden with a pool and, at the back, a large hall called Chitrashala ❤️❤️❤️ - Raniji Ki Baori ❤️❤️❤️ - Nahar Dhunk Ki Baori - Chaurasi Khambun Ki Chhatri (cenotaph with 84 pillars) - Ksar Bagh, an interesting set of royal cenotaphs at the end of Jait Sagar Lake. On the other hand, we could’ve skipped Sukh Mahal and its museum. Bundi is still pleasant but is no longer a secret spot.

So happy the forum reopened last October!!! I’ve started reading again (posts, travel journals) and chiming in on a few discussions. Now I’m stepping it up by writing a new travel journal—I’ve already posted a few between 2018 and 2020.

My latest trip was to Italy from August 27 to September 26, 2024. As the title says, it was a wander through Tuscany in parts of the region that aren’t the most visited. No Firenze-Siena-Pisa trilogy, no San Gimignano; there’ll be a quick detour into Siena, but I’ll skip the best-known sights. That choice, plus traveling in September, should help dodge overtourism. It worked out—crowds were light, sometimes very light, the whole way. Here’s the practical rundown: - a long trip outside peak season (ah, retirees!) - solo camping (caravan) - a mix of activities (hiking, mountain biking, sightseeing) in places that aren’t always packed with tourists. Still, I don’t feel like I ended up in some hidden-away spots. Not sure if this will draw any readers.

DAY 1: Tuesday, August 27, 2024 The heat was intense on the drive in across the plain; two big storms—more rain and hail than lightning and thunder—threw the weather off, the first near Imola, the second on the four-lane road up the Savio valley. I left the Cesena-Roma four-lane at the Verghereto exit and climbed up to Balze (1,100 meters). The campsite is even higher (1,200 meters), in the forest near the source of the Tevere (Tiber). Staying up here will cut down on driving for the first part of the trip: a route through the Appennino (Apennines) on the border between Toscana and Emilia-Romagna. The temperature was surprisingly mild for the altitude, the air thick with moisture by late afternoon. I drove back down from the campsite to Balze (2 km on the road) to grab groceries (it’s doable) and scout tomorrow’s hike. .

The endpoint of the planned hike is just a few meters from this sign (the trail crosses this road about 3 km from Balze). I realized Balze and the source of the Tevere (Tiber) are actually in Emilia-Romagna, not Toscana. I always thought the Tevere (Tiber), which flows toward Roma (Tyrrhenian side), started in Toscana! I’ll come back to this quirk in Day 3’s write-up.

Hi everyone, we’re sharing our day-by-day travel journal from Quebec in December. 10 days in Montreal and Quebec City during the holiday season and deep winter.

Quebec in winter is something truly exceptional to experience. The Christmas period is magical, especially in Quebec City. We share our story in this travel journal.

Hello everyone! 🙂 So many silent months, and now Voyage Forum is accessible again. That’s cool because we can pick up our discussions for our mutual enjoyment. I hope everyone is doing well and that you’ve been able to take some great trips, whether to the USA or elsewhere. In September 2020, we had planned a round trip to explore Colorado, but unfortunately, a nasty virus messed up our plans, closing borders and keeping us stuck at home. Luckily for us, canceling the car, flights, and accommodations didn’t cost us a thing—everything was refunded. In 2023, a loop from Las Vegas let us revisit places we’d seen in 2017 and discover new ones, this time spending more time at each stop with some lovely hikes. In 2024, we finally revisited the 2020 plan, and I’ll start with that. However, unforeseen circumstances mean I have much less time than before, so I’ll keep my trip reports shorter (ha ha ha—you’ll have less of my prose to endure). Another change: for those who remember the "Gang of Four crazy sixty-somethings," it was just DD and me this time. Our dear Mimi and Maumau left the Var to focus on raising horses and can’t leave their little green paradise to join us anymore. We were unfortunately much tamer without them. We traveled from September 11 to October 3.

The itinerary



Day 1: Flight Marseille-Paris-Denver, then Manitou Springs (133 km) Day 2: Manitou Springs (49 km) Day 3: Cripple Creek (104 km) Day 4: Salida (254 km) Day 5: Great Sand Dunes (231 km) Day 6: Durango (283 km) Day 7: Durango (Durango-Silverton train) Day 8: Ouray (121 km) Day 9: Ouray (Perimeter Trail hike) Day 10: Cortez (213 km) Day 11: Cortez (Mesa Verde National Park, 134 km) Day 12: Monticello (268 km, detour to Chesler Park) Day 13: Moab (171 km, Delicate Arch) Day 14: Moab (98 km, Fisher Towers) Day 15: Moab (171 km, Canyonlands) Day 16: Fruita (210 km, Colorado National Monument) Day 17: Crested Butte (224 km via Kebler Pass) Day 18: Crested Butte (57 km) Day 19: Glenwood Springs (150 km) Day 20: Glenwood Springs (118 km, Rifle State Park) Day 21: Georgetown (258 km via Independence Pass) Day 22: Denver (123 km), then return flight

We speak very little English. We spent 21 nights there and covered a 3,400 km loop by car and 160 km on foot (we’re still trying to hike while we’re in shape) from Denver in September 2024. We wanted this road trip to help us explore Colorado a bit more—we’d only spent 6 nights there in 2019—and to see it during the fall foliage season. We also wanted to return to Utah (we love Moab) to enjoy its red rocks, which we adore.

In the prices you see (some in euros, others in dollars), I’ve included bank fees and exchange charges. The flights, car, and parking were paid by credit card when we booked in February. Usually, we book around November, but some obligations kept us from doing it earlier. We downloaded the MPC (Mobile Passport Control) app on our phone, which saved us time at immigration.

📊 **Budget: just under 8,500 € for both of us, all included**

📊 **Flights** Marseille-Paris (CDG)-Denver: 2,152 € for both of us, with one checked bag each

📊 **ESTA and America the Beautiful Pass** The ones from our 2023 road trip were still valid

📊 **Parking at Marseille airport: 122 €**

📊 **Car: Nissan Rogue (the French X-Trail) from Hertz: 1,165 €** By booking through Air France (and earning miles), we got a 15% discount. Hertz offers a free Hertz Gold Plus Rewards program, which gives us priority counter service.

📊 **Accommodation: 3,050 €** We stayed in motels and hotels of various ranges (from 100 € to 270 € per night, depending on the city), all booked through Hotels.com or Booking. Booking sometimes offers cheaper rates if you book via the "Booking mobile" app. We also got some preferential rates thanks to our Genius 2 status. Out of 21 nights, only one place didn’t include breakfast.

📊 **Other expenses (activities booked by credit card before leaving)** Durango-Silverton train: 210 € (we booked the enclosed vintage coach in March) Mesa Verde: Balcony House: 15.15 € (booked 14 days before the visit) Timed-entry passes for Arches National Park: 6 € for 3 days (booked June 1 for September entries via http://récreation.gov/). We booked three different days to play with the weather.

📊 **Supplementary insurance with AVA: 204 €** (due to our age 😅 and the high cost of medical consultations in the USA)

📊 **Cash: 1,540 €** We left with 1,000 € exchanged before departure and made two withdrawals (500 $ and 200 $). This cash was used to pay for: - Evening restaurants and tips (between 70 $ and 95 $ for two meals and two drinks) - Two state parks: Dead Horse State Park (20 $) and Rifle State Park (10 $) - The Monarch Pass gondola (24 $) - Midday picnics - Gas (slightly cheaper with cash): 204 $ for 3,400 km - Personal souvenirs and little treats.

Like in our previous road trips, we didn’t rent a GPS. We used the offline GPS app Here We Go, for which we’d downloaded maps of Colorado and Utah from France, as well as a new offline app called Organic Maps as a backup—though we didn’t end up needing it.

❤️❤️❤️ **Highlights (there are so many!)** 📍 The stunning landscapes of Colorado, especially with the fall colors 📍 A step back in time at the old farm in Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument 📍 The prairies of Cripple Creek and the mining remnants of the Vindicator Trail 📍 The cheeky chipmunks in the ghost town of St. Elmo 📍 Great Sand Dunes and its soft sand 📍 The steam train between Durango and Silverton: we’re glad we chose the round-trip because it rained heavily on the way there, but we got to enjoy the scenery on the way back when the sun came out 📍 The unexpected meet-up with Michèle from the group outside a restaurant in Durango 📍 The hot springs in Ouray 📍 Mesa Verde and its still-vibrant past 📍 The red rocks of Moab and Delicate Arch at sunset 📍 The lace-like Fisher Towers and the view from the end of the trail 📍 The gorgeous Route 128 leading to Colorado National Monument—small, easy to visit, and so beautiful 📍 The colors of the fabulous Kebler Pass, Crested Butte, and especially the hike through the golden aspens (Lower and Upper Loop) 📍 The waterfalls at Rifle State Park 📍 The tundra of Independence Pass 📍 The Halloween decorations in Georgetown and Idaho Springs

😞😞 **Flops (there are very few!)** 📍 The viewpoints we missed because they weren’t well-marked or we didn’t see the signs 📍 The closure of some hiking trails (Hanging Lake and parts of Canyonlands) and the Sal Mountain Loop road, which kept us from accessing it 📍😢 The Chesler Park hike we had to cut short due to poor time management—180 km between our stop in Cortez meant we didn’t arrive until 10:30 AM, way too late for a 17 km hike.

Hope this helps! Have a great evening, everyone, and see you soon! 😊

Hi everyone.

I wanted to share a little feedback from our trip to Guatemala—we got back a month ago, and I really appreciated the well-commented posts here that helped us out. So, in turn, I wanted to share our own little recap.

We’ve traveled quite a bit together (we’re 38 and 42), and Guatemala had been on our radar for a while. But with so much info out there, it was hard to sort through it all—especially since we only had 3 weeks on the ground and didn’t want to waste time.

Here’s the itinerary we followed: Antigua, the Pacific coast, Lake Atitlán, a private coffee and bird reserve, Chichicastenango, Sayaxché, El Remate, Río Dulce, and Lake Izabal.

We rented a 4x4, which was essential given the state of some roads.

Our highlights: * **Pacific coast**: So authentic and preserved. We met sea turtles, cooked and baked coconut bread with a women’s community—such a meaningful exchange—and kayaked through a pristine mangrove full of birds. * **Lake Atitlán**: Even though we were worried it might feel too touristy, a private tour let us discover local crafts, hidden workshops (weaving, pottery), and the stunning views from the boat. * **Sayaxché**: The starting point for the Aguateca and Dos Pilas sites—one of our favorite outings. The site is breathtaking: walking through the canyon and jungle-covered ruins with almost no one around. We stayed in a little bungalow on an island, totally off the grid. * **In Petén**, we met an Itza Maya tribe—an unforgettable day sharing a meal and plant-based healing rituals. Wow. This tribe resisted the conquistadors and still lives traditionally. We also took a tour on Lake Petén and swam at hidden little beaches. Tikal was nice, but we preferred Yaxhá. * **Río Dulce**: A day at a private cocoa plantation—an adventure in a buggy with the owner himself. We harvested cocoa and ate the chocolate paste afterward, then swam in a waterfall on the property. Since it’s private, there was no one else around. A real privilege. * **Boat tour on the Río Dulce**: For us, the highlight. We visited a school where they’re committed to giving kids a solid education while blending Maya rituals. * **Lake Izabal**: A peaceful end to the trip in a magical setting. We visited Quiriguá.

We went through an organizer who knows the country really well. We weren’t initially planning on that, but thanks to her, we had experiences we never would’ve found on our own. On top of that, we actually paid less for the trip overall because of her local rates. I’m not getting anything out of this—I just think it could help other travelers. Her business is Secretplaceincostarica (she also does Costa Rica, which we’re now eager to explore).

On the ground, we felt completely safe. The people are lovely, the roads can be a little chaotic at times, but we loved every minute of it.

Happy travels to all! Marie

Hi everyone.

Here’s my personal account (just my own opinion, of course):

My trip lasted 2 months (January to March 2025). Backpacking, solo, and on a very tight budget (15 € per day on average). I traveled from Havana to: Viñales, Santa Marta/Varadero, Cienfuegos, Trinidad, Sancti Spíritus, Camagüey, Bayamo, Santiago de Cuba, Guantánamo, Baracoa, Moa, Holguín, Santa Clara, Cienfuegos, and back to Havana.

In Cuba, if you stay in *casas particulares*, you’ll have plenty of options. They’re everywhere. When I did door-to-door, I negotiated prices based on my small budget. Not always accepted, but I still managed to find families willing to host me. The island has fewer and fewer tourists each year, so many now prefer to rent a room at a low price rather than leave it empty. Inflation is insane, and Cubans struggle to get by day to day.

Door-to-door works really well (look for the blue logo of a roof on the house, which means it’s licensed to rent to foreigners)—you’ll see them everywhere. If it makes you feel more secure, you can also book through Airb’n’b, but you won’t be able to negotiate there. Important: make sure to get a VPN subscription on your phone, otherwise you won’t be able to book anything (since Airbnb is a U.S. site).

Now, for the West:

- Viñales: very pretty but *super* touristy! So, food prices are a bit high… but it’s the cheapest place to stay I found in the whole country (3 €-4 per night!!!), because there’s so much competition with *casas* (you’ll find them on every street!).

- Cienfuegos: a human-scale city, I really liked it because it’s so peaceful. Waterfront, pretty square, good prices, wide and well-lit streets—very pleasant…

- Trinidad: very expensive and very touristy. Pretty (cobblestone streets, historic center, natural surroundings), but packed with people…

- Havana: easy to find cheap accommodation if you look in Chinatown. However, you shouldn’t mind the noise and street prostitution (getting approached every 10 meters)… Central Havana is the only well-maintained and upscale part of the city (so very expensive, for tourists with money). Outside of that, everything is run-down, in ruins, or very poor (and cheap as a result).

- Varadero: no interest at all. Very expensive, superficial, and ultra-touristy. Absolutely nothing Cuban about the place. If you still want to go, stay 3 km before in Santa Marta—it’s cheaper, and you can easily walk there.

- Santa Clara: a very pretty small city with its central square. Hard to find a good place to eat with electricity—if you can afford it, go to *El Sol* restaurant, no hesitation! Great welcome and a charming spot to enjoy a meal. For accommodation, I recommend a wonderful person, Juan Carlos. *Casa San Lorenzo* on Calle Martí! Always attentive, a great spirit, and good advice…

For the Center:

- Sancti Spíritus: nothing special… just a stopover city.

- Camagüey: a nice city with welcoming people (like everywhere else), but nothing particularly noteworthy.

For the Southeast:

- Bayamo: very small, nothing special.

- Santiago de Cuba: I loved it! It felt like San Francisco with its hilly layout! Lots of street life, musicians, affordable *casas*, easy to make friendly connections, quiet spots by the water, and lively areas downtown (despite the downside of being approached every 2 minutes). And always, a warm welcome from locals (shoutout to the adorable Erika, Souleydis, and her partner—I’m giving a shoutout to *Casa San Pedro* on Calle Princesa!).

- Guantánamo: no interest. Hard to find accommodation or even food. Nothing special and not very pretty either…

- Baracoa: very pretty, though! Kept in its own juice, very typical, authentic, a peaceful waterfront, and stunning natural surroundings… Easy to find cheap accommodation.

- Moa: the only small town where I stayed 3 days and couldn’t find bottled water… Not much interest, except to rest before hitting the road again.

- Holguín: one of the cities I loved! I stayed over 10 days. Human-scale, lots of places to stay and sleep. No one bothers you in the street (except money changers). It’s a great place to live, and the people are very friendly.

Overall positives: no need to worry—Cuba is ultra-safe, no aggression, no risks. Cubans are very welcoming, smiling, and always ready to help. Public transport everywhere—buses, trucks, *collectivos*, *taxi wha-wha*… The ice cream is to die for (just watch out for power outages and freezers). Great breakfasts in *casas*—hearty and delicious… Movie theaters are practically free (in Cuban pesos), so cheap it’d be a shame to skip them (they’re often empty, by the way). Chess clubs in every city, open to everyone and free (they’re really good!). The general vibe is warm and joyful despite the hardships…

Overall negatives: lots of scams, theft, and prostitution. Except in Havana, the rest of the island has no electricity for most of the day. Hard to find good cheap food (without going to big restaurants or hotels). Often mediocre: pasta or pizza usually have no taste. Paranoia among many people who fear crime, even though the country is very safe… Inflation is so bad that many Cubans struggle to eat or get healthcare (medicine is rare and expensive).

That’s a lot to say, but that’s the gist of it… 😊

Before I begin, I’d like to thank Michèle Buisson and her "Misha’s travel journals," which really helped me plan this trip. It’s tough to find information about this part of India, which is quite different from the "more traditional India." I’m so grateful to her for introducing me to a family who hosted me for 4 nights and 3 days. I can’t wait to return the favor and welcome you all to my place in early July!

Thursday, March 20th. The alarm goes off super early, but I’m already awake—I was too worried I’d sleep through it. I leave the house at 4:00 AM. The rain has stopped, and at this hour, there aren’t many trucks on the road. I arrive at Barcelona Airport easily by 6:20 AM, let the valet know I’m there, and he quickly picks up my car. This time, I’m flying with Etihad Airways again. I booked the ticket during my trip to Cambodia: Barcelona/Kolkata, Delhi/Barcelona for 567 €. At that price, I didn’t hesitate for long—I knew I had to take it. And I’m glad I did because, by the time I returned, the price had gone up to 700 €. I can already hear the reactions: "Wow, how’d you get a ticket for that price? What site did you use? You’re amazing, MarieJo!" One thing’s for sure—I’m really happy with this deal. The flights from Barcelona to Abu Dhabi and Abu Dhabi to Kolkata go smoothly, and we arrive on time at 2:55 AM. There aren’t many people at immigration, so I get through quickly. My luggage isn’t on the carousel yet. After collecting my bag, I check in for my next flight with IndiGo, a 5:40 AM flight to Guwahati, arriving at 7:00 AM. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, so I take a taxi from the airport to Gruham Sojourn Homestay. The house is upstairs, and the neighborhood seems quiet, with restaurants lining the street. The room won’t be ready until 10:00 AM, so I rest on the bench in the meantime. Once in the room, I take a shower—it really helps me feel refreshed. I need to exchange some euros, so I look up a nearby exchange bureau on Google and head out to find it. I locate it easily, and the staff are super friendly. I get a great rate (1 € = 90 INR). I wander around the neighborhood. The train station isn’t far, and small markets line the streets. I head back to my area, walking along the main avenue. About 500 meters from my street, I discover a museum. The visit is fascinating—I see the famous Majuli masks, among other things.



I’m not far from the Brahmaputra River, and the temptation to visit is too strong to resist. I’d hoped to find a promenade along the river, but that doesn’t exist here. I walk back calmly and notice several restaurants in my street. On the doorstep of my accommodation, I spot a pastry shop with cakes that look more like the ones we have in France than the typical ones here in India. A visit is a must, and I’m not disappointed!



Tonight, I’m dining at a restaurant in the street. The menu is a bit disappointing—burgers, pizzas, pasta—nothing very Indian. So, I’ll go with tomato pasta.

For those planning a trip to Kerala, here’s a quick, practical summary. For the most part: the stunning landscapes, the natural kindness of the locals, their cuisine, and their culture—you’ll get to enjoy all of that once you’re there... Flight (arrival and departure to/from Cochin) Avoid Air India and opt for flights via the Middle East: Saudi Arabia, Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Oman, etc. Price: between 500 € and 600 € Accommodations Average price: 20 € per night for a couple (max: 40 €, min: 10 €, often including breakfast), via the usual booking sites. Homestays (staying in the owner’s house) are of a higher standard. Only 2 nights were spent in questionable cleanliness. The rest were good, even very good, or even *very* very good. Car with Driver All-inclusive daily price: tolls, fuel, driver’s lodging and meals... and of course, we often shared our meals with our driver too. Toyota sedan (e.g., Corolla) for 4 travelers (1 in front, 3 in the back): 50 € / day, Toyota SUV (e.g., Innova) for up to 6 travelers: 60 € / day DM me if you’d like more details.

Overall budget (excluding flights and shopping) Around 1500 € for 1 couple for the 3 weeks... in "2-couple mode"! (i.e., sharing the driver’s cost). Itinerary

Night 1: Arrival in Cochin in the morning, departure for Attirappily Beautiful waterfalls

Night 2: Thrissur Via Vallachira, not much tourist interest, a stop to ease into the trip and shorten the journey to Wayanad

Nights 3, 4, 5: Wayanad, staying in Sultan Battery Coffee and tea plantations, dam lake, URAVU (bamboo craft workshop), ...

Night 6: Ooty Botanical garden, then a really fun tourist train the next afternoon to Metupalaiyam

Night 7: Toward Coimbatore

Nights 8, 9, 10: Munnar City visit, stunning tea plantations

Nights 11, 12: Thekkady/Kumilly Amazing tea plantations, sightseeing, Jeep ride, not-so-interesting boat tour on Periyar Lake, trekking options

Night 13: Marari Beach (near Alleppey) 4-hour backwaters tour, then beach (swimming, dinner)

Nights 14, 15, 16: Munroe Island Super chill, walks around the island (small coir rope factory), sunrise by boat or canoe, sunset

Night 17: Varkala Gorgeous beaches, shopping

Night 18: Trivandrum City center visit, then train back to Cochin the next day in 3 hours.

Night 19: Cochin Fort Kochi is a lovely way to wrap up the trip

Have a great trip in this incredible region, so unique in India!

I just got back from a trip to Morocco and I want to share my experience of the few days I spent in the Happy Valley (also called the Ait Bouguemez Valley—it’s the same place!)

I’d contacted my guide Youssef, whose details I found here on VoyageForum. Since I was coming from the south, I first needed to find the shared transport that would take me across the Atlas Mountains, from the Valley of Roses (near Boulmane Dadès) to the Happy Valley. I left from Kelaat M'Gouna, where I’d stayed the night before at the Hôtel du Grand Atlas, right next to the bus stop. Youssef kept me updated by phone, and after a bit of searching, I found Brahim’s little Mercedes bus, which leaves between 10 AM and 1 PM... depending on how many passengers there are and the season.

The journey was impressive. The road is still under construction, so the bus sometimes drives through the bottom of the gorges, even wading through water before climbing back up and tackling a winding dirt track that rises twice to 3,000 meters at the passes: Tizi n-Ait-Hamed and Tizi n-Ait-Imi. I arrived in Tabant as night was falling, and Youssef was waiting to take me to Gîte Timite, a traditional Amazigh house. It’s built from earth with flat rooftops. For two days, I was welcomed there, sharing meals with the family. The hospitality was truly warm.

We went on two beautiful hikes, sticking to the valley floor. The peaks were snow-covered, so it wasn’t the right season to climb Mount Mgoun, which rises to 4,000 meters.

On the first day, we hiked up the valley to see the dinosaur footprints (a protected site). The valley is lush and known for its apples and walnuts. We were there during apple-picking season—there were apples everywhere! We had lunch with a very friendly family in the village of Rbat, then after a steep climb, we descended into another part of the valley before heading back to Timite.

The second day, we went the other way, toward the west end of the valley. It was just as beautiful. We climbed a few hills overlooking the valley floor, discovering grain storage buildings, and had lunch with a family whose father makes charcoal.

In the evening, I was treated to couscous, which we shared with the whole family—men, women, and children (who are a bit like royalty) sitting on benches. We laughed a lot as I tried to say a few words in Tamazight, or when we made rhythmic music, clapping our hands and tapping on the table...

I really spent two days out of time, feeling very welcome, and slept well. The comfort isn’t amazing—I had a toilet but no shower. But that’s part of sharing the life of the people in the Happy Valley. Thanks to Youssef, Mina, and the kids! "Gite Timit Youssef" or

It’s been a month and a half since our family returned from Cape Verde, and I’ve finally found the time to write this travel journal about this beautiful yet little-known destination.

Cape Verde is a small volcanic archipelago made up of ten isolated islands in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. At the crossroads of maritime routes between three continents—Africa, the Americas, and Europe—its name is tied to the history of slavery.

But today, this little piece of Africa with Creole influences has a lot to offer travelers craving a change of scenery and adventures off the beaten path.

We visited three of these ten lovely islands rising from the ocean: Maio, the wild and authentic island; Fogo, the volcanic one; and Santiago, the cosmopolitan hub.

MAIO: THE SMALL, WILD, AND AUTHENTIC ISLAND

To travel between the neighboring islands of Santiago, where we landed from France, and Maio, the first stop on our trip, there are two options: plane or boat. To avoid the risk of the boat being canceled due to rough seas—and to save time—we chose to fly. The flight takes just fifteen minutes, while the boat ride lasts three hours. Since our stay was only fifteen days, saving that half-day was a big deal.

The colorful houses of Vila de Maio

Our first day on the island didn’t let us see the sun. It’s mid-August, the very start of the rainy season—which should really be called the cloudy season. This “rainy” period has nothing to do with what happens in other parts of the world, like Southeast Asia, where the monsoon can be devastating. Here, locals hadn’t seen a drop of rain in nearly a year, and for them, it’s a tragedy. That’s why the ground is so dry and the vegetation so sparse.

As a result, fruits and vegetables are scarce, and livestock are suffering so much that some farmers are forced to cull their herds. Ironically, back in France, we’d just come out of a miserable winter with nearly five months of nonstop gray skies and frequent rain, especially in some regions. Is our climate out of whack?...

The beach bordering the village of Vila de Maio

We stayed a week on Maio. We were lodged at Stella Maris Village, a small residence at the edge of Vila. A shared pool, perched on a small cliff, overlooks the deep blue sea.

Sunset at Stella Maris Village

The cliff isn’t very high, but it offers a nice view of the surroundings.



From the residence, it’s just a ten-minute walk through the village to reach the beach.

> The beach and the fishermen

We didn’t choose Maio just for its calm, wild, and authentic vibe. It was also so Victor and Arthur, our two sons, could earn their Level 1 scuba certification in Cape Verde’s beautiful waters, known for their abundant marine life but still relatively untouched by divers—for now...

On the first day, we met Bernard, who runs AAA Maio Plongée, to plan the five dives needed for their certification.

The dive sites are accessible by boat, but to reach it, you have to cross the surf. The waves vary in strength, and while they were gentle for our first snorkeling trip, getting past them with scuba tanks on our backs was a bit more of a workout for the later dives.



Snorkeling trip: this time, the waves were gentle...

The week of diving with Bernard went perfectly, in Cape Verde’s surprisingly fish-rich waters. On the morning of the last dive, while checking the sea to cross the surf safely, we even spotted a pod of dolphins swimming across the bay in the distance. Always a magical moment...

In a week, the beach at Vila, where the dive club is located, was the liveliest spot we saw on the whole island. All day long, fishing boats returned loaded with fish of all sizes.

Return from fishing

Here, fishermen have a strong sense of solidarity because they can’t pull their boats out of the water alone, especially when the waves are rough.

So, all day long, whenever a boat comes in, the fishermen on the beach rush to help drag it ashore and secure it higher up on the sand, away from the sea.



The sight of these colorful fishing boats on the beach is something we saw everywhere in Cape Verde.





Sometimes, the fishermen bring back impressive catches. Instead of carrying the fish by hand to a proper spot, they clean them right on the beach.



Sailfish

But every evening during our stay, this beach also hosted Maio’s annual soccer tournament. Residents from villages across the island gathered here at the end of the day to compete, including a few women’s teams.

Players were cheered on by hundreds of spectators—which is a lot for a small island with barely 8,000 inhabitants.



The beach doubled as a stadium: sand replaced grass, and the fishermen’s colorful boats served as seats and bleachers. The celebration had a laid-back vibe, with loudspeakers blasting music and the smell of grilled fish in the air.



Meanwhile, kids splashed around in the sea, which could sometimes be dangerous. The waves could be strong, but the currents were the real concern.

😎Hi there, fellow backpackers in French Polynesia,

I’ll share my personal impressions and some tips for budget backpackers. French Polynesia isn’t just for the rich—I’ve met plenty of backpackers exploring these islands on a shoestring! The biggest expense is definitely the flight ticket. Since the beginning of April 2003, Corsair no longer serves Papeete, leaving only Air France and Air Tahiti Nui (and long live competition!). (AF is ATN’s partner, and a round-trip Paris-Papeete ticket costs at least 1300 € all taxes included.)

"An agreement was signed on 14/08/2002 between the Government of French Polynesia, Nouvelles Frontières Touraventure, Air Tahiti Nui, and Corsair. Corsair’s operation of the Papeete route was scheduled to continue until March 31, 2003. From that date, the Polynesian carrier Air Tahiti Nui would reinforce this route and put two A 340-300s into service."

Before heading to French Polynesia, ask for the brochure *"La petite hôtellerie & l'hébergement chez l'habitant à Tahiti et ses Îles"* (updated every year). Of course, a travel guide from the bookstore is also very useful. Address: Maison de Tahiti et ses îles, 28, bld Saint Germain, 75005 Paris Phone: 01 55 42 64 64 www.voyageatahiti.com This brochure helped me a lot: rates, phone numbers, transfer prices, camping info...

French Polynesia is vast! Which islands do you want to visit? The Marquesas from September to December, and the rest... Two seasons: hot and humid from November to March, and a cooler season from April to October. Note that the rainy season runs from November to April. It can rain for 3 or 4 days straight... but hey, as the Tahitians say: so what! Or, well, plants need rain. In July and August, it gets chilly in the evenings in Tahiti and Moorea (the record is 16°C)!

Things to do on Tahiti: island tour, excursion to the interior, the Pearl Museum, the Museum of Tahiti and its Islands, dinner at the food trucks on the waterfront parking lot (VIP boats), Papeete Market. After that, it’s time to head to the other islands...

Cheapest accommodation right in the center of Papeete: Teamo Hostel (5-minute walk from the market!). Dorm beds cost 2100 CFP (a bit run-down, but hey, we’re backpackers, right?). It’s run by a Chinese grandma married to a Tahitian. (You can’t cook or make coffee anymore because some backpackers stole kitchen utensils.) Apparently, there’s a cheap place to stay near the hospital where you can cook, but I don’t know the address...

Truck fare from FAA airport to downtown Papeete: 130 CFP during the day, 200 CFP at night (runs 24/7). You can eat cheaply at Papeete Market (sandwiches for 300 CFP, takeaway meals from 400 to 700 CFP).

Maritime transport from Papeete to Moorea: Aremiti Ferry, 1060 CFP one way. Truck to Moorea Camping or Nelson and Josiane’s camping: 300 CFP. Rates at Nelson’s: camping 1100 CFP/night/person; dorm 1600 CFP/night/person—clean and much better than Moorea Camping.

At Moorea Camping, the shark tour (feeding sharks and rays + snorkeling) costs 2500 CFP/person for guests and 3000 CFP for others (it’s the cheapest on the island—I did it three times!). Getting around isn’t easy because the truck only runs according to ferry schedules, about 3 or 4 times a day. You’ll need to rent a bike or scooter, but it’s expensive: bike rental for 8 hours is 2000 CFP. For the sporty types, the island tour is 60 km.

I can’t afford to stay at the Sofitel in Moorea, but I know it has the most beautiful beach on the island!

To continue to the other islands, you’ll need to either return to Papeete or take a plane, but since we’re broke, we head back to Papeete to catch the boats at Motu-Uta (the maritime port, a 15-minute walk from downtown). Destinations include: - Tuamotu: Tikehau, Rangiroa, Ahe, Apataki, Manihi, Fakarava... - Austral Islands: Rimatara, Rurutu, Tubuai, Raivavae, Rapa - Leeward Islands: Huahine, Raiatea, Tahaa, Bora Bora, Maupiti - Gambier and the Marquesas Islands: Nuku-Hiva, Hiva-Oa...

You can get maritime schedules from the tourist office (very useful for boat info, schedules, destinations, rates, etc.).

For transport, opt for inter-island ships: schooners or bonitiers (super cheap), but be prepared for long trips with minimal comfort and seasickness... For example, Rurutu to Papeete takes 42 hours at sea! Papeete to Bora Bora is 22 hours!

Update: The cargo ship Dory 2 sank (gasoline explosion), and Vaeanu II is grounded on the reef at Rimatara (Austral Islands).

To be continued in episode (2/)...

Tuesday, November 18th, flight from Montpellier to Oran and 4 days at Ali’s place in a rented apartment for 8,000 dinars per day. Saturday the 22nd, direct flight from Oran to Ghardaïa for 33 euros, which I booked through Booking since you can’t book domestic Air Algérie flights from France unless you have an Algerian credit card. The only foreigner on board, they asked me three times if everything was okay, if I needed anything... Upon arrival, the police knew, asked where I was staying, I waited for the hostel taxi (Taskift for 8,000 dinars with half-board), they took a photo of his papers, and that was it. Tuesday the 25th, Ghardaïa to Ouargla by minibus for 400 dinars, then a big bus to Biskra for 750 dinars. Night at the brand-new Cristal Hotel for 4,500 dinars. And of course, on the way to the balconies of Ghoufi and the Aurès massif—breathtaking!!! Wednesday the 26th, left too late for Batna, no shared taxis after 3 PM, but my taxi to the bus station handed me off to a minibus driver and asked him to find me a taxi in Batna for Timgad. One call, and it was all set. 250 dinars to Batna and 1,200 dinars to Timgad. It was dark, 1°C, and raining—slippery. Phew, arrived at 6:45 PM. Lovely Trajan Hotel right on the Roman ruins site for 9,000 dinars. Thursday the 27th, Timgad at 9 AM, 5°C, and no more than 8°C expected all day. Gotta bundle up for the visit. Snow on the mountain and a freezing cold wind. That’s the logistics. The euro is at 180 dinars. Thanks to the Algerians for taking such good care of me like a queen—I can’t wait to come back. See you soon

Hi there,

There have already been quite a few travel journals about Naples, so this is more of a photographic stroll. There aren’t too many practical tips, but feel free to ask! This trip took place in May 2019.

It’s the day before departure, and I’m excited as can be! I’ve wanted to see Naples and its region for a while—this city everyone calls bubbling with life. While I’m packing my bags, I get a message from the airline saying there’s going to be an air traffic controllers’ strike and my flight might not take off... What? How? You’re kidding, right? I’ve been waiting for this trip for weeks. I check online, and yes, it’s true... What to do?!? I look up the train schedule and find out the train leaves a few hours earlier, with a stop in Milan and then straight to Naples. Decision made—I’m taking the train; it’s a new experience. I leave at 5 AM on an almost empty train, arrive in Milan 4.5 hours later, and rush to catch the train to Naples. This is my first time taking the train in Italy, and I love it. After an hour of travel, a gentleman arrives with a small cart and an authentic coffee machine on top. He asks me: *caffè, signora?* Si, si, si! And he starts the machine—here’s my first Italian espresso with little biscuits.



I arrive in Naples in the early afternoon. The station is packed, cars everywhere, and I’m already soaking up the atmosphere. I drop my things off at the B&B and head out to explore the city. There are incredible crowds everywhere, noise, food on every street corner, and every scene is a real photographic delight :) I’m in the Chiaia neighborhood and try my first street pizza, made right in front of me—how can I say it? Excellent. In the late afternoon, I wander through the streets before grabbing an aperitivo on one of the many terraces.









The next day, I head to Capri... It’s true, Capri is very touristy, but it’s worth seeing once in your life. After a choppy crossing, I’ve earned a good shower, a plate of pasta, and a limoncello. Then I set off for a walk through the little streets that go up and down endlessly. The view is stunning, and the kilometers add up... I’ve definitely earned a break by the pool with a gelato :)

Off on new adventures!!! For my wife’s 60th birthday, I’m really making her happy. While I usually pick warm, sunny destinations, she’s more tempted by places where you don’t suffer from the heat. So, it’s off to Norway!! A real challenge for me—a southern guy who’s as cold-sensitive as they come. I keep telling anyone who’ll listen (well, just myself, really) that these aren’t the countries for me, that rain will be our travel companion, that we’ll have to face polar bears, navigate between icebergs, that there are still Vikings around, and all sorts of other things. Of course, not wanting to make it easy, we’re driving from the Lyon area where we live. Friends who’ve visited the country told us it’s pretty expensive to eat out (among other things), so we’re bringing supplies—especially enough for apéritifs the whole trip!!! It’s not a camper van, but a "hotel-car" we’ll be doing! We’ll see how it goes! As usual, I’ll try to narrate the journey with my two-cent comments, plus some little tips to avoid our mistakes—assuming I don’t lose any fingers to the cold! Every night, I’ll count them to make sure I still have all ten! We’re not in *Ch’tis* territory but even farther Noooorth (as Galabru would say). Note that I’m traveling with a synovial effusion in my knee! The old man’s not in great shape!! Here we go!!

PS: As always, I’m a filmmaker, so I’ve made an effort with a few photos from my phone.

IRELAND - INTRODUCTION

We planned our 15-day trip to Ireland several months in advance to create an itinerary that would let us see a multitude of tourist attractions across various regions of the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

We researched the main attractions in each region and noted their GPS coordinates.

After that, we used Google Maps to create a packed but realistic daily route. We printed all the itineraries, and they proved extremely useful since some attractions weren’t listed on the GPS a friend lent us, and some roads aren’t clearly marked.

This way, we were able to stick to our daily schedule.

Three months before our departure, we rented a car directly from Autoescape’s website for 136.44 € over 14 days. The rental was with BUDGET, and the car we got was a ŠKODA Citigo.

This rate includes unlimited mileage, collision damage waiver (CDW), theft protection (TP) with a 1,500 € excess, and unlimited third-party liability coverage.

Some roads in Ireland are very narrow, so a compact car is much appreciated. Don’t forget that driving is on the left, and there are plenty of roundabouts.

Luckily, my partner finds driving this way easy, and our travels went smoothly.

It’s worth mentioning how courteous and patient Irish drivers are—it’s truly phenomenal.

Two weeks before our trip, we booked our accommodations at various places like B&Bs, hotels, and university campuses through Hotels.com. We’ll talk more about each of them later.

When we arrived at Dublin Airport, going through customs was quite tedious. There are two lines: one for EU citizens and another for other foreigners. The wait for non-EU travelers is significantly longer.

The car rental isn’t directly at the terminal. You have to take a shuttle to the rental center. Once there, a company representative finalizes the contract and hands over the keys to our rental car.

And off we went on our adventure!

It’s also important to note that some roads have tolls. For most of them, you pay directly at a toll booth, and the fees are usually under 2 €.

However, the M50 motorway around Dublin works differently—it’s a prepaid toll. You’re charged when you drive between Junction 6 (N3 Blanchardstown) and Junction 7 (N4 Lucan). A large purple sign warns you as you approach one of these junctions.

Cameras automatically record your license plate, and fees are applied based on your vehicle category. For a standard car, the fee is 3.10 €.

You have until 8:00 PM the next day to pay at an authorized retailer or online at https://www.eflow.ie/.

We prepaid these fees directly on the site mentioned above.

If you don’t pay within the required time, you’ll be charged substantial penalties.

For dining, most grocery stores and gas stations offer a great selection of hot and cold meals at very reasonable prices. That’s why we mostly bought our food at places like SuperValu, Lidl, Spar, and Centra.

We invite you to keep reading about our adventure in the next section.

Spitsbergen, 80° North latitude. A lost archipelago on the edge of the world, northeast of Greenland, the last lands before the pole. I’m aboard the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, a Russian ship from the Murmansk Polar Research Institute. Russian flag, Russian crew. Chartered by OceanWide Expeditions.

Last night, we were stuck in drifting pack ice in the long Hinlopen Strait. This incident led to an unforgettable barbecue and party on the ship’s foredeck, but we had to abandon our plan to head south and circle Spitsbergen. This summer, there’s too much ice in the strait, and it’s too thick. At dawn, the tide turned, allowing us to break free and head north again. The ship is now moving slowly through sea ice density that satellite maps estimate at around five-tenths. Our progress is punctuated by dull thuds: the ship’s bow constantly shoves and fractures enormous ice floes.

At breakfast, Tarik, our expedition leader, informs us that our program will be significantly altered. Since we can’t cross the strait, we’ll turn back and head north. To kick off our Plan B, Tarik plans a landing tonight on the small island of Låg (Lågøya), at 80°10' North. Last summer, he saw a large walrus colony there and hopes we’ll find them again. The weather is perfect—glorious sunshine—and walruses are truly addicted to sunbathing on the beaches.

We’ve now exited the strait and are sailing far from the coast. In case the walrus colony is there, we don’t want the ship’s approach to scare them into the water before we even see them. So, we scan the shore methodically with binoculars. We pass several bays, round a cape, and examine several shorelines littered with driftwood, but no walruses in sight. Several times, clusters of large rounded rocks trigger false alarms… but no, they’re just rocks…

Suddenly, Tarik spots them through his binoculars! On an isolated peninsula, our expedition leader’s highly trained eye has picked out, among those brown masses, the shape and white color of the enormous tusks of what he calls "the heavyweights of the Arctic!" Now, fifteen or twenty pairs of binoculars are pointed in the indicated direction… Sure enough, I see them now! They’re there, huge, sprawled in the sun on the beach. Without Tarik’s sharp eye, we might have missed them. They’re so tightly packed together that they really look like a mass of brown rocks. Only the white, saber-shaped tusks and the occasional furtive movements hint that they’re animals.

It’s 11 PM, and on the deck of the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, as you can imagine, excitement has ramped up several notches. Several of us have already rushed to our cabins to gear up, pulling on boots and life jackets in anticipation of a landing that promises to be absolutely amazing. Tarik reins in our enthusiasm a bit: Okay, so we were lucky to find them, but now we need to think about how to approach them. Not that they’re dangerous—at least not on land… Their enormous bulk and their pseudo-feet (flippers) only allow for very limited mobility. But when they feel threatened, their first instinct is to head for the water, where their perfect ease keeps them safe. So, the challenge will be not to scare them off, to avoid them bolting into the water in the first few seconds! That’s exactly what would happen if we arrived by Zodiac right in front of them.

So, Tarik decides we’ll make a wide detour to land on the other side of the peninsula where they are. From there, we’ll leave the Zodiacs on the beach and cross the peninsula on foot, about a kilometer and a half. That way, we’ll approach the herd from behind. This approach will also keep us downwind of them. There you go—with a few precautions, they shouldn’t hear us coming or catch our scent.

Everyone is geared up now and practically bursting with impatience… While the Zodiacs are being lowered into the water, Tarik and Delphine recap the approach rules: absolute silence, communication only by signs, no dragging feet on the rocks, watch your step, and strict coordination with slow movements.

Here we go… we’re off now! Spray flying from the Zodiac’s bow, icy air whipping our faces, gloves gripping the side ropes, freezing splashes, pure emotion… Ahh, I love this! We describe a wide curve offshore to round the peninsula. Ahead of us, the magnificent landscape of this intensely blue sea unfolds, with the hills of Lågøya and, in the distance, the ice-covered mountains of Nordaustlandet under the sun. It’s midnight now. In July, at 80 degrees North, the sun is just like midday.

This navigation takes us far from the walruses, on the other side of the cape. Easy landing on a shoreline of large pebbles covered in giant seaweed brought in by the currents. They look like long strips of plastic—sometimes translucent, sometimes white, beige, or orange. In places, there are huge tangled layers of it. Our boots sink into this material, which gives off a strong iodine smell. Unfortunately, there’s also some plastic waste—fishing floats and net debris. Seeing this here is crazy… A little farther on, in a cove, tides and storms have piled up numerous tree trunks from Siberia.

We begin crossing the peninsula on foot, staying close together. We’re walking on a nearly deserted polar tundra. We’re only ten degrees of latitude from the North Pole here. The violent winds and extreme temperatures that dominate this island for nine months of the year allow only a few rare plants to grow, close to the ground, between the rocks. In places, rocks are covered with large patches of black lichen.

Gérard, rifle slung over his shoulder, constantly scans the terrain. Tarik and Delphine are also very vigilant. We know no one ever lands here, and although this environment isn’t ideal for bears, you never know—better to be cautious. The terrain is mostly flat, but whenever a small rise blocks our view, Gérard moves ahead and only signals us to proceed when he’s sure there’s no "big man in fur" (tradition dictates we don’t name the polar bear).

After a few hundred meters, we find an enormous whale vertebra. Judging by the state of the bone, it’s likely a relic from the whaling era that ravaged this area in the 17th century and all over northern Spitsbergen. A little farther on, the remains of a grave catch our attention. The only human trace on this remote island, this burial is surely very old, also likely dating from the whalers’ time. But this whaler’s final resting place didn’t shelter him for long—there’s not much left, just a piece of skull and a few broken bones. Due to the permafrost, the body could only be buried a few dozen centimeters deep, between some planks held in place by large stones. This makeshift grave was probably ravaged by a bear shortly after the burial. Several stone blocks are overturned, the planks are broken open. We only linger for a minute to pay our respects to this whaler, whose poor remains now merge with the mineral landscape.

A slight rise bulges in the center of the peninsula, and here we are at the highest point. If our orientation is correct, we’re heading straight for the walrus colony. A moment of emotion… my heart’s pounding. Yes, they’re there, about three hundred meters ahead of us! They haven’t moved since we spotted them from the *Grigoriy Mikheev*’s deck. They’re sprawled in a heap, packed tightly together in the sun, on the shingle beach. The light breeze blowing in our faces confirms we’re on the right track—not to be sniffed out from afar by the big beasts.

By signs, Tarik tells us we’ll approach slowly, in stages, moving about thirty meters at a time, making as little noise as possible with our boots, then freezing completely for a minute or two, crouching down to let them forget us. This strategy proves excellent. We’re now less than a hundred meters away, and it doesn’t seem like our presence is perceived as a threat by the "heavyweights of the Arctic." At this distance, let’s not kid ourselves: we’re certainly spotted, but our way of approaching must seem reassuring—or at least manageable—since they’re only a few meters from the water and know they could dash into it in seconds if they felt the need.

We now advance in shorter stages—twenty meters at a time, then just ten, crouching, then freezing like statues, our breathing nearly held from emotion and concentration. We’re now thirty meters from the mastodons. Our presence must be starting to stress them because they’re moving more. While still sprawled against each other, some suddenly rear up on their flipper-feet, grunting and snorting like monstrous pigs. Their head shakes make their two enormous ivory sabers sway. They jab them into the fat of their neighbors, who in turn stir and emit irritated snorts.

At Tarik’s signal, we move a few more meters, "on velvet paws"… We’re right there now. I hold my breath, throat tight… Intense emotion, a fantastic spectacle—these enormous Arctic animals sprawled in the sun, with the magnificent backdrop of snow-covered mountains across the sound. I think to myself: *I’m here… this can’t be real!* It’s nearly 2 AM now, the air is crystal clear, and the Arctic sun bathes this scene in what might be the most beautiful light I’ve ever seen. We’re about fifteen meters away now. Tarik signals that we won’t go any closer. The walruses are still lying down, but occasionally, our close presence and the clicking of cameras trigger bouts of agitation that ripple through the herd, causing some jostling. They’re so tightly packed and tangled that it’s a bit hard to count them. In the end, we tally sixteen, plus one "little one," half-crushed in the general mass.

Seen from here, they’re truly impressive! The "sumo wrestlers of the Arctic!" According to Tarik, they must weigh about a ton—slightly more for the males than the females—and the "little one" must already be around 200 kg. When the weather’s nice like today, they love sprawling on the beaches to soak up the sun.

Walruses are marvels of Arctic adaptation. They can modify their blood circulation depending on thermal conditions. They withstand extreme cold by directing most of their circulation to vital organs (heart, lungs) and minimizing peripheral blood flow (skin and limbs) to prevent heat loss. Conversely, when they sunbathe, they direct most of their blood flow to the skin, turning themselves into true solar collectors.

At this latitude, there’s practically no difference in sunlight between day and night. Noon or midnight, the sun’s angle barely changes. Walruses make the most of these fair-weather phases by sprawling in the sun 23 hours out of 24… Enough to make siesta lovers dream, right? Twenty-three hours of lounging… and the twenty-fourth for eating!

And when we say "eating," what a feast! The proverb *"Who sleeps dines"* is fully justified here: when a walrus decides to feed, it gulps down between 50 and 60 kg of shellfish in an hour! Its food consists of large bivalve mollusks, which it tears from the seabed with its tusks and sucks up nonstop! A 50 kg meal certainly justifies a 23-hour nap for digestion, right? And speaking of digestion—it’s what the "big guys" in front of us are doing right now! You might wonder how we know this… Well, I’ll tell you: if you were here, downwind (or should I say *down the winds!*) of these marine giants, you’d have no doubt! Pfft… what flatulence! I can confirm that today’s scent is called *"Morsanus, from the North"* (*"Because I’m worth it!"*). Mmm, yeah… Tarik, you had a great idea putting us upwind… at least *they* can’t smell us, but we sure can!

But… heepp! Delphine discreetly signals to get our attention—she’s just spotted something: in the smooth water of the bay, a small V-shaped ripple runs along the beach, then turns toward the shore… So the colony wasn’t complete on the beach… Here’s an 800 kg bather stepping ashore now, right before our astonished eyes! She lifts her head and stays like that for a long moment, her enormous tusks half out of the water. She looks exhausted, resting a bit before coming out. Or more likely, she’s hesitating to climb onto the beach because she’s seen us… The shapeless head stays still for a moment, then violently snorts like a clogged drain! A misshapen head where you can’t make out anything that usually makes a head! No eyes, no ears, no mouth… A sort of monstrous cabbage! But the temptation to join the warmth of the "sunbathers" is too strong! Here’s our pachyderm bather climbing the few meters of the shore and sprawling right in the middle of her companions, who greet her with jostling, grunts, and tusk jabs! Then everything settles back into order—800 kg of fat and flesh added to the fifteen or so tons of local biomass. Welcome to the club!

It seems the walruses have gotten a bit used to us now. They’re moving and grunting much less. I realize it wasn’t obvious to approach them like this without scaring them into the water… It’s thanks to Tarik and Delphine’s advice that we managed it. It’s also, let’s be honest, because we’re all passionate here, and there’s been total discipline and cohesion from the start of this approach.

It’s past 2 AM now—time to head back… We’ll leave them to their wild world, to their life at the beginning of the world. We’re happy to have disturbed them as little as possible and not to have disrupted their nap too much. We leave stealthily, first backing up a few meters, then turning around and crossing the peninsula again, walking slowly, avoiding making noise with our boots as long as we’re still close.

We find the Zodiacs on the shoreline with the giant kelp. The sea is like a lake—easy boarding. We make another wide loop to round the cape, passing offshore. The sharp cold stings my cheeks and ears again—I put my hat back on. The cold—I hadn’t thought about it at all during our encounter with the walruses. In the Zodiac, with the engine noise, no one speaks. The faces and smiles are those of men and women who’ve just crossed an inner frontier—the one that separates dream from reality. But tonight, that frontier was porous, and the dream entered reality.

We return to the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, waiting at anchor. It’s past 3 AM, but I don’t feel any fatigue. A few minutes later, I’m in my bunk, rocked by a gentle swell and the hum of the engines. In the soft warmth of the blanket, a strange sleep overtakes me… A sleep filled with luminous, icy landscapes, with large beasts bearing saber-like tusks. Large beasts that sleep, snore, snort, grunt, and jostle in their sleep… in *my* sleep. An unforgettable memory. It was July 2004, in Spitsbergen.

Chris51.

Last year, I stumbled upon a "nature reserve" in the Waterberg by sheer luck. Just one night, but I was so thrilled that I went back this year for three nights. It was perfect for breaking up the trip between Marakele and Mapungubwe. The Waterberg is the Limpopo of game farms, hunting farms... and places trying to attract clients from Joburg and Kruger, with varying levels of ethics. The roads aren’t always great, potholes are everywhere, and Google Maps is pretty unreliable. But in my case, I found exactly what I was looking for...

As often happens, old farms have been grouped together to create a nature reserve that doesn’t sell you "wild" lions, has no rhinos (protecting rhinos is complicated), no elephants, and no buffalo. So, antelopes, elusive leopards, hyenas (didn’t see any), peaceful giraffes, warthogs, etc.—just general game! What’s the point? Well, you go for walks or hikes with game drives... you bike... you chill. You get out of the car. For us this year, a gorgeous "house," fully equipped, on the edge of the forest, with wood for the fire and a plain as the view... An unbeatable quality-to-price ratio in a natural setting! A little photo dump for the vibe. You’ve gathered that part of the exploration is by car (it’s big) and part on foot...

Hi there,

My month in South Africa went really well. The itinerary revisits some places I’ve already seen—even a few times over...

Joburg – Marakele – Waterberg – Mapungubwe – Northern Kruger – Panorama Route – Southern Kruger – Eswatini (Hlane) – Maputaland (Sodwana Bay) – St Lucia – Joburg via Richards Bay.

I’ll skip some spots and focus on others.

Today’s topic: Marakele.

Back in 2009, I spent a day there, and since then... I’ve tried several times to go back.

The park isn’t very big—nowhere near as lush as Kruger—but it has a lot going for it. Even back then, there was a split between the western section, where you wouldn’t find any “dangerous” animals like elephants or buffalo (though rhinos were around), and the eastern section, the Big Five zone. Nowadays, the western part is open to mountain biking, and the campsite is completely unfenced, which pretty much confirms that the big animals aren’t there—no rhinos either (I didn’t see a single dung pile). The western section didn’t seem all that interesting to me... with vervet monkeys everywhere in the campsite. In the eastern part, there’s the Topli tented camp, right by a dam. It’s small but charming, with a great view and a loosely fenced perimeter (there are now lions and wild dogs in this area). No facilities—no restaurant, no pool (except at the campsite), no shop, no fuel, nothing...

View from the “chalet” terrace... nice and relaxed...



So, a terrace with a view for the lucky ones...



Bedroom and bathroom, separate and equipped kitchen. It can get windy. It must be cold in winter... but it’s hot this October.

Some lovely little roads... though some sections are 4x4-friendly.







A viewpoint at the top—you’re supposed to see the vulture colony from there... still haven’t seen it, as far as I’m concerned.



The animals?

Tuesday, September 12 We had to get up early that day to leave our house at 3:30 AM, as our flight from Lyon Saint-Exupéry was scheduled for 6:35 AM. In the end, our Transavia flight took off with a delay.



I’d found a round-trip flight from Lyon to Porto on the Transavia website for 58 € per person, including only a carry-on bag.



Before landing at Porto Airport, we flew over the Douro River and the famous bridge between Porto and Vila Nova de Gaia.



The Douro flows into the Atlantic Ocean.

From the airport, we took the metro, which starts above ground before diving into Porto’s underground.



Once we’d dropped off our bags at the hotel, we set off to explore Porto.







You can’t go to Portugal without riding a tram—it’s a must! So we took an old tram (Line 1) to the beach.







The Guindais Funicular connects Praça da Batalha, high up in the city, to Ribeira in the historic center near the quays.



We didn’t take it—going down the stairs was fine. A one-way ticket costs 2.5 €.





The Dom Luís I Bridge is one of the city’s icons. Built between 1881 and 1886 by engineer Théophile Seyrig, a disciple of Gustave Eiffel,





The historic Ribeira district, once run-down, is undergoing an urban revival. Porto is gradually regaining its former splendor.



Old mansions with crests are being restored, splendid façades adorned with azulejos, Baroque-style churches, yellow trams, ancient shops, trendy restaurants, hip bars, boutiques, and design hotels!

Hello fellow travelers,

I spent 3 weeks in Cambodia this January, and I completely fell in love with this country—especially the Cambodian people. I took my time because it was possible, and it turned out to be a total success. Originally, this trip was planned for 2021 and 2022 with my husband, but COVID and an illness threw everything off. Now traveling solo, I went with Siem Reap à la Carte, a local agency. I can’t recommend Mélanie and Nathalie enough—they helped design the itinerary together with me, and the guides and drivers were top-notch. Since I was alone with them, the connection was incredible.

My itinerary: Phnom Penh (2 nights). I arrived at the airport at 1 PM, and everything went super smoothly—I had my E-visa and E-arrival. I had the afternoon free on arrival, a guide the next morning, and the afternoon free again. Battambang (2 nights) with a local guide for all the visits (temples, the bat flight, bamboo train, the surrounding countryside, markets, etc.). Siem Reap (6 nights). I chose to take the public boat across the Tonlé Sap—8 hours on the water, but it goes by quickly, and the scenery is stunning. Of course, in Siem Reap, it’s all about the Angkor temples—most people come for that—but Nathalie and Mélanie also arranged some unique experiences, like visiting a lacquer workshop (even though this wasn’t my first trip to Asia and I’d seen them before, this one was different). I even tried making incense sticks (I’m not very good at it), and we had lunch at a local’s home. There are, of course, the markets, and I also took a cooking class with a chef at his home, where we ate what we prepared. I also spent another day on a boat visiting a village on the Tonlé Sap. I used my free time for a massage, a stroll around town, and in the evenings, I’d head to Pub Street—guaranteed fun. I also visited the Thousand Lingas River. I won’t list all the temples I saw—you can make your own choices or follow recommendations. Either way, everything is breathtaking. Banlung and Ratanakiri, where I spent 4 nights. Because of that, I didn’t go to Mondulkiri. I loved it—jungle walks, visits to ethnic villages and cemeteries, and for those who want, there are plenty of waterfalls where you can swim. The most tourists I saw at once was 5 (a group of 4 and me a little farther away, so you can have peace and quiet). I also spent time at an elephant sanctuary. I was hesitant at first, but everything had been so perfect up to that point that I went, and I have no regrets. It was just me, the guide, and the rangers—lovely people—and the elephants were living their best lives. Next, I headed to Kratié for 2 nights: temples, the Irrawaddy dolphins, and a half-day on Koh Trong Island by bike, tasting their famous pomelos—a pure delight. No cars on the island, just calm and serenity. On my way to Kep, where I spent 4 nights, I stopped for a night in Kampong Cham, visiting temples, villages, and the bamboo bridge. With this kind of travel style, it’s easy to stop wherever you feel like it. So, I arrived in KEP to taste the famous Kep crabs—don’t miss them! The agency arranged a full-day motorbike tour (I wasn’t the one driving!), exploring the countryside and salt marshes. Of course, you should also visit Kampot, and if you love pepper, make sure to leave room in your luggage to bring some back. A full day of fishing by boat, with lunch on board (the fish we caught—though not by me, I’m terrible at that too). A kayak trip through the mangroves. In short, everything was perfect here too, and I took my time to enjoy the sunsets. Back to Phnom Penh for one last night before returning to France. A sunset cruise on the Mekong, and I visited some places I didn’t have time for when I arrived. This was my first solo trip—I usually travel with someone—but the organization was flawless, and the people were wonderful. I didn’t go to the islands near Sihanoukville, even though that was originally part of the plan. But I truly fell in love with this country. I’m considering Thailand next winter, but I’m also seriously thinking about returning to Siem Reap or even visiting those islands. If you’d like more details, I’m happy to help. Nathalie and Mélanie were incredibly patient with me—I’d been in touch with them since 2020, and in 2021, I had to cancel everything. They’re two French women who’ve lived there for a long time, know the country inside out, and—most importantly—have immense respect for the people they work with (guides, drivers). That’s a value that’s very important to me. Happy travels to all!

Hi everyone,

First off, 12 days of great weather at the end of summer—my husband’s fleece jackets were totally unnecessary. We visited Vilnius, Riga, and Tallinn in that order, and it was a great tip. Vilnius is peaceful, very colorful, the food is delicious, street art is everywhere, and strolling through the historic center is really enjoyable. We stayed there for 2 nights. A 4-hour Lux Express bus ride was perfect for getting to Riga, where we spent 3 days. The city is a mix of medieval, Gothic, and Baroque art, with Orthodox churches and synagogues in the old town, plus an Art Nouveau district featuring the Rosenthal House. The central market looks austere and huge, facing the colorful walls of the tourist center—it’s a real pleasure to wander the cobblestone streets and taste the local cuisine, with its Germanic and Uzbek influences. In Tallinn, the highlight of the trip, we found Art Nouveau again, colorful walls, and a fitting reminder of the past at the Museum of Occupations. There’s a hipster district, a trendy area, stunning originality, and an unexpected maritime museum in its design. The city is at the cutting edge of technology, and the youth are everywhere. The welcome was friendly everywhere, and we’ll keep great memories of it.

Perched at 1,200 meters above sea level in the Spanish Pyrenees, right on the border with France, the monumental Canfranc Station was inaugurated in 1928. It fell into decline in the 1970s after being abandoned by the SNCF, but it’s been restored by the Spanish hotel group Barceló, which transformed it into a luxurious five-star palace. Nicknamed the “Titanic of the Pyrenees” with its 241-meter length,

Preamble: . This isn’t about drumming up business for a new professional venture—just sharing, under pressure from eager Vf members hungry for juicy anecdotes, my 10-day trip to Marrakech with 10 friends. I’d mentioned during the planning discussion for this trip ((https://voyageforum.com/forum/questions-excursions-autour-marrakech-d10685703/)) that there wouldn’t be a travel journal... And since I’m a man of my word—but also stuck with a nasty calf muscle tear at the end of the trip that’s keeping me immobile for 15 days (more on that later)—I’ve got some time to dedicate to this. So, after this preamble, off we go to the Medina!

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Day 1: Friday, May 2nd – The Day the Group Split

Before we dive in, let’s talk about the trip prep. Among my friends, I’ve got a rep as the go-to independent travel expert (thanks to a few trips, some with this same crew). So, naturally, the task of planning this one fell to me—and I took it on gladly (you’re never better served than by yourself, right?). The prep and itinerary were hashed out over multiple meet-ups (excuses?) during shared meals at one another’s places, guided by yours truly. Travel style, accommodation, sightseeing—all decisions were made together, trying to balance everyone’s wishes over a good bottle (generic term, not numerical!)

So, a group of five—including me and my girlfriend—set off for Geneva at 3 AM that Friday, while the rest would join us on Sunday due to family or work commitments. We’ll skip the EasyJet flight—it was nothing special, just a means to get us there safely (which, in itself, is already a win). We landed in Marrakech at 9 AM local time. There, a spotless Dacia Logan was waiting for us, chartered by MEDLOC, whose impeccable service I’ll praise here (thanks, friends, for the tip!). My first challenge, after loading the suitcases into the trunk: reaching the riad booked for our first two nights as the advance team. https://www.astradamusmarrakesh.top/fr/

I was a little nervous about driving here—Marrakech’s driving reputation precedes it. The hiccup? While setting up Google Maps for the route, I accidentally added a level-5 difficulty and enabled pedestrian mode... Imagine a rental car stubbornly trying for over half an hour to navigate the Medina (the riad was in the north), cursing all the pedestrians in streets too narrow for the car, and having to reverse multiple times because “it won’t fit,” ignoring the many Marrakechis waving to signal the street was impassable (but what are they trying to sell me now? 🤪)... Until my co-pilot, holding my phone, asked if it was “normal for the route to be dotted on Google Maps?” Yes, it’s normal—pedestrian mode was on.... We’ll still be laughing about this in the nursing home in 40 years, but at the time, I was genuinely surprised by what driving in Morocco had in store for me—and for good reason! After fixing the Google Maps settings, we arrived more calmly at the private parking lot (90 dirhams per night) and then at the riad, where we received a warm welcome while our rooms were being prepared.

After freshening up, we crossed the souks for the first time to have lunch at Jemaa el-Fna Square, at Zeitoun Café, where we enjoyed our first couscous or tagine on its terrace. We’d return to Jemaa el-Fna that evening after a restorative nap at the riad, another late afternoon in the souk, and an evening at this famous UNESCO World Heritage site. This time, it was the restaurant Lafarmacie (you can’t make this up!) that won us over, despite the lack of a rooftop. I recommend this place to everyone—the prices are great, the welcome is extraordinary, and the food is excellent...







Returning after 11 PM, we learned the hard way that the souk has its own entry points and hours, and the path to our beds was full of detours and closed doors. Fortunately, we were guided by friendly locals who showed us the right way (in exchange for a fiercely negotiated tip each time...)

Made it safely to Portugal, can’t wait to start sightseeing and sketching—enjoying the milder weather compared to my next stop, Scotland. :) If it rains, I’ll share my great tips for sketching indoors! 😊

While planning a trip to the LOFOTEN for summer 2023 using the excellent guide *Hiking in the Lofoten*, we discovered this trek.

Sure, it’s rated as difficult, but it lets you cross the LOFOTEN on foot from north to south in 11 stages, covering 160 km and 9,193 m of elevation gain (or the reverse, of course).

So, it’s a multi-day hike, with wild camping, and no need to rent a car. Perfect...

What’s making us hesitate a bit are the island transfers (okay, I’ll admit, the difficulty is also a factor for me). These transfers require taking public transport and/or hitchhiking. But the stages are designed with this in mind, and the transfers are well explained. Plus, water isn’t an issue, and you can resupply several times, which helps keep the pack weight down.

For Jean Marie, my partner, this will be his first multi-day trek, but he’s an experienced and hardy hiker. As for me, even though I’m not as tough, I’ve already done some multi-day hikes. So, we should complement each other well.

So, are we going for it? Sold!!

Here’s the trek map: HERE

03/08 – Day 1 - Delp – Sandsletta 04/08 - Day 2 – Sandsletta – Svolvaer 05/08 - Day 3 – Svolvaer – Kleppstad + transfer to the start of Day 4 06/08 – Day 4 – Vikjorda hamlet – Store Lake 07/08 – Day 5 – Store Lake – Leknes - Transfer to Napp on Flakstadøya Island 08/08 – Day 6 – Napp – Nusfjord 09/08 – Day 7 – Nusfjord – Ramberg 10/08 – Day 8 – Ramberg – Selfjord Bay (Moskenesøya Island) 11/08 – Day 9 - Selfjord – Bunes Beach 12/08 – Day 10 - Bunes Beach - Krokvatnet Lake 13/08 – Day 11 - Krokvatnet Lake – Moskenes (campsite) and round trip to Å by bus 14/08 – Day 12 – Hike up Reinebringen – Reine – Tour of Agvatnet Lake 15/08 – Return to Bodø - flight back to France on 16/08 And here’s the inevitable recap

Hello everyone,

I’d like to invite you on a new adventure in Kenya.

Back in 2010, my husband Ben and I fell in love with Kenya, and we’ve been traveling there regularly ever since. This 2025 safari marked the first weeks of an important milestone in my life: retirement.

Of course, Felix—our guide and friend for all these years, whom some of you may even know from this forum—joined us again.

We chose an itinerary that takes us through the parks and reserves we particularly love in Kenya: Tsavo East (3 nights), Tsavo West (2 nights), a transition day in Embu, Samburu (5 nights), Meru NP (4 nights), Nanuyki to visit the Mount Kenya Animal Orphanage (https://mountkenyawildlifeconservancy.org/) (1 night), and Aberdare NP (2 nights).

This safari wasn’t our most prolific in terms of wildlife sightings and photos (all taken by Ben), but I still think it’s worth sharing our experiences and impressions of the places we visited. Maybe other travelers will find useful information here to help them fulfill their dream of a Kenyan safari one day...

Living in Brittany, we left from Nantes on Wednesday, January 8, 2025, on the 6 AM Air France flight to CDG, then took the direct flight to Nairobi at 10:50 AM. No issues this time on either flight (unlike in October 2023...).

We arrived in Nairobi at 9:20 PM local time (there’s a two-hour time difference with France at this time of year). Going through passport control and collecting our luggage went smoothly. The hotel shuttle (https://67airporthotel.co.ke/) was waiting for us. We shared it with a friendly Swiss couple who were there to climb Mount Kenya. We arrived at the hotel around midnight. The 67 Airport Hotel is 10-15 minutes from Jomo Kenyatta Airport and offers great value for money. Plus, it’s close to the Mombasa road, which is handy when heading that way the next morning.

On Thursday, January 9, we had breakfast at the hotel restaurant at 6:30 AM, and as planned, Felix arrived around 7 AM. We got to check out his brand-new 4x4 Nissan—we’d be the first to test it! 🙂



We set off for Voi, making our usual stop in Mtito Andei. Traffic was heavy on the Mombasa road, with lots of trucks.

We arrived at the entrance of Tsavo East around 1 PM and made it to Sentrim Camp (https://www.sentrim-hotels.com/sentrim-tsavo.html) just in time for lunch.



We found Tsavo East unusually green—there had been heavy rains in December, which isn’t typical. As a result, the animals were scattered and harder to spot. The watering hole visible from the camp’s dining area was completely deserted, whereas it’s usually bustling with herds of elephants and other mammals.

Our tent, No. 9, for 3 nights.



This camp is well-located inside the park. It’s simple but comfortable enough for our tastes, the staff is super friendly (as is often the case in Kenya), and the buffet-style meals are varied and good. Tsavo is the main destination for tourists staying on the coast who come for a night or two on safari. In January, some days at the camp are very quiet, while some evenings, the restaurant is packed with groups (lots of Italians, in particular).

Tsavo is, of course, famous for its elephants. This time, we didn’t see many large herds, but we did have some great encounters with solitary males.









Around this small watering hole, we saw a gathering of African open-billed storks—we’d never seen so many before!