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.
Friday, July 29 – Saturday, July 30: Paris-Osaka-Kyoto
Departure from Paris in mid-morning, with a layover in Amsterdam. The flight goes smoothly. Smoothly? Well, not entirely: one of our suitcases is missing upon arrival (the one with the comfy shoes🙁). After filling out the forms and exchanging our JR Passes (the daily pass, the cheapest option for the airport-Kyoto train ride, and the 14-day pass with a deferred start date), we’re off to Kyoto. The landscape whizzes by, and I’m amused by the changing habitats outside the window, but my eyelids are heavy. Hard not to doze off.
Once in Kyoto, we head straight to the Airbnb apartment we booked near the station. Drop off the bags, and we’re off to grab a bite. With all the waiting and the train ride, it’s already lunchtime. First taste of Japanese curry—mildly spiced. A surprise.
First taste of Japanese urban planning too.
For this first day, I planned visits around the station and our apartment.
First, the Kikoku-tei garden… which we nearly circled before finding the entrance… and where we endured a full-on mosquito attack. Still really pretty, though.
Then, the Higashi Honganji temple.
While some of us rest on the steps in the shade of the roof, others prefer feeding the locals.
From there, we can admire the city. Undoubtedly, it’s nestled in a basin, which explains the intense heat in summer. I really liked having this overall view.
Toward the north
And toward the south.
The next stop is the train station—a city within a city—with its restaurants and supermarket. Japanese train stations are on a completely different scale compared to those in France and are true hubs of activity. This one is 60 meters tall, and over 240,000 passengers pass through it every day. With its futuristic architecture, it’s reportedly one of Kyoto’s most visited landmarks. On the other hand, we had no choice but to pass through to catch the train. :)
We couldn’t miss a visit to Isetan, the luxury supermarket in the basement. Supermarket visits in Japan are always a highlight: the delight at the countless charming little details, the surprise of discovering unfamiliar (or at least unusual) foods, and the shock at the price of fruit. I’d already had the chance to visit a Japanese supermarket before, but for the others, it was all new. They were completely blown away.
We stopped by a *combini* to grab some snacks for tonight and tomorrow morning before heading back to the apartment.
A quick aside about Airbnb in Japan: First, for every rental, we received an ultra-detailed step-by-step guide to the apartment, complete with plenty of photos. That’s the practical side of Japan. Then, we often picked up and left the keys in the mailboxes. That’s the safety side of Japan. Finally, the apartments were always super well-stocked with cleaning supplies and trash bags. :)
First off, Japan is a constant wonder, just as beautifully described in the preface of Tokyo Sanpo by Florent Chavouet—I’ll take this opportunity to plug the book, which I read with great pleasure after my vacation.
I find Florent Chavouet a bit lost in his later works. While Tokyo Sanpo and especially Manabeshima (after reading it, I *had* to go there) are fabulous, his more recent books are a bit disappointing.
I was particularly surprised by the price of rooms for four, which is pretty much the same as for two double rooms. So for a family, that’s a significant non-savings.
Yeah, often, accommodation prices are per person.
The worst part: in some hotels, a room for two costs the same as two single-occupancy bookings of the same room!!!
Something to keep in mind when booking their semi-double rooms (= microscopic)...
On the flip side, what’s not great for a family of four works out well for a solo traveler, who’ll only pay half the price of a double room.
As a friend of mine put it: "It’s simple—since they have ten fingers, they count in base 10. Otherwise, they do everything differently from us."
And yet, we don’t even count the same way or use the same fingers from 1 to 10 😛...
The role of women and relationships between genders are simply staggering and archaic from our European perspective.
Still, be careful with snap judgments or interpretations from a Western point of view... Many women in Japan don’t work once they’re married, true—but generally, they themselves can’t imagine continuing to work if "Mr." has a well-paid job... It’s not out of obligation that they stop working...
What’s more, they’re completely free to move around: in the evenings, restaurants have about as many men as women, and just as many tables of men as tables of women or mixed tables...
I don’t think I could live in such a rigidly coded society, where the individual is so dissolved into the collective.
It’s a matter of culture and conditioning. What might shock a Westerner is often seen as normal in Japan. And not everyone there has such a rigidly structured life (some of my Japanese friends even have lives that are *less* structured than those of many French people...).
The status of women and gender relations are simply staggering 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.
Are you equally outraged by the status of women in Muslim societies?
On the other hand, I much prefer Japanese society with its codes, its collective consciousness, its focus on the group (without being communist...), and the fact that it protects itself by remaining homogeneous (much to the chagrin of the nation-wreckers governing us), rather than our societies (French, North American, etc.) that are individualistic, as egocentric as can be, and completely disconnected from reality, conditioned by the power of the media... To each their own.
Besides, I much prefer Japanese society and its codes, its collective consciousness, its focus on the group (without being communist...) and the fact that it protects itself by remaining homogeneous (much to the chagrin of the nation-wreckers who govern us), rather than our societies (French, North American, etc.) which are individualistic, as self-centered as can be, and completely disconnected from reality and conditioned by the power of the media... To each their own.
Unfortunately, the grass isn’t any greener in Japan than elsewhere. Some things are better there, some worse. The vision we have of it from the outside and/or as visitors, filtered by the polished image the country projects to foreigners, hides some of Japan’s darker aspects.
Individualism, self-centeredness, disconnection from reality, and the power of the media are problems in Japan too... Films like *Nobody Knows* by Kore-eda tackle some of the less flattering aspects of Japanese society (the treatment of single mothers and unregistered children, the irresponsibility of some fathers, society’s blind eye, among others). I also remember a harrowing film based on sadly very real events about horrific and senseless crimes committed by teenagers and how the self-righteous society and media relentlessly hounded both the suspects and their families, with consequences we can hardly imagine here (the dissolution of entire families and their reduction to social exile, etc.).
There’s a proliferation of cults that, while not reaching the murderous activities of Aum Shinrikyo, are just as harmful. Organized crime still has a strong presence, and politics—both local and national—is far from transparent or perfectly honest...
Alas, the grass isn’t any greener in Japan than elsewhere. Some things are better there, some are worse. The outside view—and even the fleeting impression you get as a visitor—filtered through the country’s polished image for foreigners, hides some of the darker sides of the country.
Oh, I totally agree. I didn’t mean to idealize Japan. 😉
I could say the same about Canada, which some people romanticize without really knowing the country. If you just go by what the media spins, you’d think Trudeau’s Canada is some kind of paradise...
Still, in Japan, there *does* seem to be a stronger collective (national) consciousness than in the West...
Still, in Japan, there seems to be a collective (national) consciousness far more developed than in the West...
Since the Japanese are human like the rest of us, they suffer from the same illusion as we do—that they descend directly from Heaven and are "different" (read: "superior") from the rest of the world... 😎
I didn’t expect to spark a debate like this 😮. I really should’ve realized the topic was a sensitive one.
It’s a matter of culture and conditioning. What might shock a Western perspective is often considered normal in Japan.
We’re on the same page. I actually made sure to say "from our European point of view." Likewise, I specified "I don’t think I could," which is just about me and not a judgment on Japanese society at all. It’s really first and foremost a question of upbringing. That’s actually what struck me most in Japan: how, with a completely different education, people can have such a different worldview.
Sunday, July 31: Eastern Kyoto – Yasaka Pagoda – Kiyomizu-dera, Sannenzaka and Ninenzaka alleys, Ishibe-Koji, Maruyama Park, Yasaka-jinja, Chion-In, Gion, Shirakawa, Pontocho
The most logical way to explore Kyoto is to try to group visits by geographic areas. For this first day, we headed east with a walk starting at Kiyomizu-dera and ending in the evening at Pontocho. (This more or less matches the "Southern Higashiyama" itinerary in the Lonely Planet.)
Off we go! We catch the bus almost right outside our place, which drops us off below Kiyomizu-dera. A mistake in choosing the stop—though we should’ve suspected it: all the tourists got off at the previous stop—lets us discover the little alleys and the Yasaka Pagoda. A blessing in disguise, then.
Very charming. There aren’t many people yet, and we’re delighted by these so-called traditional homes. Sure, it’s packed with restaurants and souvenir shops, but it’s still nice.
Under the weight of the heat, we switch to Japanese mode and stop at a shop to buy… two umbrellas that double as parasols. Ridiculous? Not at all—here, it’s actually very common, especially among women who take great care to protect themselves from the sun. Another sign of this constant concern for protection: the long gloves they wear up to their mid-arms in the sweltering heat, particularly when biking. With our two umbrellas—one gray, one pistachio green—we’re all set!
This stop also lets us notice for the first time that French is undeniably trendy. Throughout our trip, we’ll regularly come across shops and products with more or less French-sounding names. The famous *franponais* (nippon.fr/fr/archives/843), which sometimes results in some pretty bizarre things.
And there we go! Here's Kiyomizu-dera. Already way more crowded! The place is swarming with Asian tourists—we later learned they're mostly Chinese and Korean. Lots of people, or rather, lots of women, are wearing yukatas, summer kimonos (which you can rent). Great for photos.
At the entrance, the purification fountains greet us. At first, I thought—we all thought—that they were for cooling off. But after watching the locals, we realized it’s actually a purification ritual: the right hand holds the ladle to wash the left hand, then it’s the left hand’s turn to wash the right, then the left hand again to pour water into the right hand to rinse the mouth. Or at least, that’s what we *think* we figured out. Either way, it’s refreshing.
The shade of the main hall, the Hondo, with its wide open-air platform, is a welcome relief. Nearby, the *fūrin* (Japanese wind chimes) tinkle in the breeze. In the distance, a pagoda peeks through the trees, its red standing out against the green. Below, Otowa-no-taki, the sacred waterfall, famous for bringing longevity and vitality, waits for the tourist-pilgrims. Sure, it’s packed, but it’s still pretty cool.
The rest of the visit offers a nice view of the Hondo. Then it’s down to the waterfall. Along the way, the cemetery catches my eye—I slip away from the tourist flow for a moment. Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s actually allowed—no one else was going there—but I looked around and didn’t see any "keep out" signs. So I went for it.
The waterfall
Now *that’s* a pillar!
A staircase leads back up to the temple and other pavilions. All in all, it’s really nice.
We’ve finished at Kiyomizu-dera, backtracked, and are now heading down through the alleys lined with old houses. More people than on the way up.
Our stomachs are growling, so we find our way to a tiny—just like so many places in Japan—restaurant run by a lovely granny who keeps saying “haï” (“yes” in Japanese) throughout the meal, her smile lighting up when we say “Misu, kudasaï” (“Water, please”). The only available seats are the ones with traditional Japanese seating, meaning on the floor. Our oldest gets a laugh from the neighbors when she takes off not just her shoes but her socks too before settling onto the tatami. The meal is simple but high quality, and not too pricey for such a touristy spot. Japan’s reputation is well deserved. For dessert, we grab a matcha tea ice cream from one of the many ice cream shops along the way that have been teasing us for a while—just the first of many for me, since the kids aren’t big fans and their dad isn’t either.
Time is flying, so we decide to skip Koadai-ji, even though it’s well known. We do make sure to take a detour through Ishebe-Koji, which is really charming. That’s where we spot one of the two geishas we’ll see during our trip, all dolled up in white makeup and a stunning kimono. It’s also our first brush with Japanese kindness: a local approaches us, asks a few questions, is thrilled to chat, and insists on taking our photo—with our camera—in the middle of the alley “for the memory.”
A few hundred meters later, we reach Maruyama Park and the super-friendly Yasaka Shrine with its pretty white lanterns.
One last push and we’re at Chion-in. Too bad a large part of the buildings is closed.
I take a break to call our luggage delivery service.
AF-KLM called us earlier to say they could deliver our bag the next morning but didn’t give us a time. When we pushed for a more precise slot, the person gave us a whole list of numbers to call. The family unanimously decided—minus one vote—that it would be my job to handle it. With some apprehension, I dive in, since our limited experience in Japan has shown that communicating in English can be tough. But oh joy, the person I speak to has perfect English! We reschedule the delivery for late afternoon the next day. Everything seems to be going smoothly until they ask for the address in kanji. Uh-oh! I stop the first passerby—luckily, we have our host’s paper with the address on it—but they’re not Japanese! I call the cashier over to help. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. No problem, I hand her the phone, and off she goes for a long chat. I wonder how it can be so complicated. Still, she sorts it out with a smile, apologizes for having to pause the conversation to hand out two tickets, and even thanks me at the end. I shower her with “arigatō gozaimasu.” Okay, it’s not the right way to say thank you, but it’s the best I’ve got! First taste of the incredible helpfulness we’ll experience throughout our trip.
Done with temples and shrines for today—we're heading to Gion.
Done with temples and shrines? Not quite—just one more small neighborhood shrine.
A quick detour through the alleys lets us spot our second and last geisha of the day.
Then it's north to Shirakawa, with its traditional houses—this time by the water.
As evening approaches, we make our way to Pontocho. From the bridge over the Kamogawa, we see people strolling along the banks in the gentle evening air, and the terraces of this famous district’s restaurants. I’d initially thought about eating there, but the prices quickly put us off—this side of the street is mostly high-end restaurants. We ended up on the "land" side instead. A little rain catches us in Pontocho, so our umbrellas came in handy for that too.
After some hesitation, we land in a yakitori restaurant, chosen for its bustling crowd. A bit pricey, but delicious. A few last nighttime photos, and then it’s back home. Time for bed.
I keep saying « aligatô gozaimasu ». Okay, it’s not the correct form of ‘thank you,’ but it’s the best I’ve got…
No matter the grammatical form, it’s the clear expression of your gratitude that counts and will stick in that person’s mind. Even if you’d said "merci de votre aide" in French, it would’ve been appreciated just as much.
In a situation like this, you can say "(Dômo) arigato gozaimash'ta", "Arigato gozaimash'ta", or "Dômo sumimasen" (the last one implies you recognize you’ve received an extraordinary favor).
Thanks for these explanations. I’ll do better next time. Because there will definitely be another trip to Japan.
Monday, August 1st: Northern and central Kyoto - Kinkaku-ji - Ryoan-ji - Nijo Castle - Nishiki Market - Teramachi shopping arcade
For this day, the plan is to start the morning in the north with the Golden Pavilion, then continue to the surrounding temples before heading back toward the city center to explore Nishiki Market in particular. To get to Kinkaku-ji, we take the bus again—probably not as fast as the subway, but it lets us comfortably discover the city.
It’s true, the pavilion is harmonious, golden against a backdrop of greenery. Its reflection in the lake, dotted with small islands, creates a timeless image.
Well, the flip side is this. Less appealing. What’s really annoying is all the selfies and the “let me take a photo in front of the pavilion” moments.
We manage to find a little spot to settle in and enjoy the scenery unfolding before us. Looking at the pavilion, I can’t help but think of Mishima’s book and that monk who put his shoes on his head.
The next stop is Ryoan-ji, famous for its Zen garden made of rocks and sand. Its unique feature is that it has 15 rocks, but you can never see more than 14 at the same time. Though it's one of Kyoto's iconic sights, we only partly connect with it. It's amusing, but that's about it. Could it be because it's really hot (the sand radiates heat quite strongly) or that we don't spend enough time soaking in the place (one probably goes with the other)? We enjoy the mossy garden at the back more—it's easier to access and, most importantly, cooler.
A walk around the pond then lets us discover a lovely "forest" made of pines, moss, shade, and light.
Alright, time to eat! There isn't much around. Our pocket Wi-Fi, provided as part of our rental, and Google Maps save the day by helping us find a nearby restaurant. What we find isn't so much a restaurant as the feeling of walking into someone's home. But the food is good, hearty enough, and most of all, really nice.
To mix things up, we skip Ninna-ji (it’s not too far) and take a bus to Nijo Castle instead. This castle is far from the traditional image of Japanese castles with their multiple cascading floors topped by soaring roofs. Nijo Castle is actually a more or less staggered succession of rooms on stilts. What makes it really worth visiting is its decoration: paintings and the famous "nightingale" flooring, which creaks underfoot to alert you to any intruders. No photos allowed… and Pokémon hunting is banned. It’s surrounded by a stunning garden that we don’t miss exploring. The ramparts offer some fun views of the surroundings, and we feel like we’re in a bubble of calm and greenery right in the middle of the city’s hustle and bustle.
With the afternoon well underway, it’s time to head to Nishiki Market. I was worried it might be almost closed, but no—there’s still plenty of life and lots of fun foods to try. We have a great time wandering through the market and taking photos of all the quirky things that seem so unusual to our European eyes. I take the chance to pick up a few specialties for tonight (some delicious eggplants with a slightly tangy sauce and what turned out to be fish cakes—though they weren’t as good as the eggplants).
On our way back, we (almost) stumble upon the Termachi shopping arcade. Perfect timing—I wanted to see it. These covered, air-conditioned pedestrian streets dedicated to shopping, called *shotengai*, are a classic Japanese feature we’ll encounter again in Hiroshima.
A Shinto shrine right in the middle of the shops.
Tea salon storefront. Almost all restaurants have these plastic food displays outside.
A cat and owl café where you can pet the animals for a set time.
A quick stop at the Takashimaya (a department store chain) basement in the area to finish our shopping for tonight’s meal, and then it’s back home. Today’s daily pass was well worth it. :)
These kinds of covered, pedestrian-only shopping streets that are also air-conditioned—shotengai—are a classic Japanese feature we’ll see again in Hiroshima.
You’ll find them in most cities.
They’re great for rainy days, for example...
Ho, all of this is magnificent and makes you want to go.
Thanks. Travel journals are made for that, and it's great if it makes you want to go.
As for cults, they’re proliferating in Europe too, and we let it happen.
Uh... I never talked about cults.
I’ll continue (a little°)
Tuesday, August 2: Osaka with Osaka Safari – Fushimi Inari
Two highlights for the day: visiting Osaka with Osaka Safari in the morning and Fushimi Inari in the afternoon.
I discovered Osaka Safari (osakasafari.com/) on Anaïs and Pedro’s blog (www.anaisetpedro.com/) (which I highly recommend, by the way, to anyone thinking of going to Japan—or anywhere else). The concept: a walk through Osaka’s neighborhoods with Angelo, an expat married to a Japanese woman who speaks fluent Japanese. The tour is adaptable to your interests, with explanations about Japan, various anecdotes, and photography tips. Due to Angelo’s availability, only this half-day was possible. Oh well, we’ll make a round trip from Kyoto.
First, a little tour around Umeda Station, the meet-up spot.
“Tradition and modernity”
That’s a chapel for weddings—well, mostly for wedding photos. :)
And off we go to Tsuruhashi, in eastern Osaka, on the edge of the Korean district (Osaka has a large Korean community, the biggest in Japan—150,000 people, I read (www.vivrelejapon.com/...atown-quartier-coree)), for a stroll through a charming, old-fashioned market.
Our first stop is the fish market, a bit of a makeshift place located under the railway tracks. Though there are still a few fish on the stalls, the market is about to close, and the fishmongers are busy. But thanks to Angelo’s presence, we’re welcomed with open arms. The people are friendly and happy to chat with us. We watch an impressive, precision fish-cutting demonstration, check out the tuna tanks, and discover unknown foods… I even get to “play” with an octopus that takes a liking to me, leaving some lovely hickeys on my arm that last for days. Everyone has a good laugh.
We continue with the rest of the market. Everywhere, people smile at us, want us to taste things, offer us others—we left with a whole bunch of little gifts: tomatoes, a milk drink, plums... and they ask us about our lives, our impressions of Japan...
The basin serves as a cash register and holds the customers' money. When I say Japan is a safe country...
You can even find whale. 🙁
Street vendor.
This lady insisted on letting us taste and retaste her dishes.
It was a really great stroll with Angelo, allowing for lots of interactions with the vendors and providing plenty of explanations.
I'm also jumping on board to follow this travel journal 😉 I'm planning to spend 15 days in Japan next year, at Easter. Thanks for sharing your experience!
Three quick questions already:
- When you arrived in Osaka, if I understood correctly, you didn’t activate your JR Pass? What type of ticket did you get instead?
- Do you have any good accommodation recommendations to share?
- The crowds in Kyoto scare me... Your story confirms what we read everywhere about it 😕 In situations like this, I think the only solution is to arrive very early at the sites. What time were you there to visit the temples?
In this kind of situation, I think the only solution is to arrive very early at the sites you want to visit. What time were you there to visit the temples?
Tour operators usually pack as many temples as possible into a short time and start early in the morning. It's generally around lunchtime that there are fewer people.
That said, if you really want to avoid crowds, you should start by avoiding weekends and not necessarily cramming too many temple visits into your itinerary... Japan (including Kyoto) isn’t just about its temples.
- When arriving in Osaka, if I understood correctly, you didn’t activate your JR Pass? What type of ticket did you get?
Actually, I had bought a daily JR tpass that I had to get activated. It’s the cheapest option for a train trip, but I’m not sure it was a good idea—there isn’t much savings, and we had to queue to get it activated. I could’ve done without that extra wait after the trip from Paris.
- Do you have any good accommodation recommendations to share?
All the Airbnbs we stayed in were fine, but none were unforgettable enough to recommend absolutely. I’ll share the guesthouse references later in the story. If there’s a specific place you’re looking for, let me know—I’ll tell you where we went and what we thought of it.
The crowds in Kyoto scare me... Your story confirms what we read everywhere about it 😕 In situations like this, I think the only solution is to arrive very early at the sites. What time were you there to visit the temples?
We never got up very early—except in Miyajima—so I can’t tell you if it’s crowded at opening time. In museums and such, we noticed fewer people in the late afternoon, probably because everything closes so early. We even got caught out a few times. About Kyoto, don’t worry: yes, there are crowds at the main monuments, but as soon as you step away from them, the crowds disappear.
Looking forward to the rest, I hope...
I’ll continue.
So, next up
We head to Namba and Sennichimae Doguyasuji, the street for kitchen utensils.
The visit ends way too soon for our liking. We had a great morning. Angelo is a passionate Osaka local who wants to share and help people love his city. He succeeds perfectly. I really recommend it. After a few more tips, Angelo leaves us near several restaurants.
For lunch, we choose a Tonkatsu restaurant, a Japanese specialty with a special breadcrumb coating called panko, much lighter than our European breadcrumbs (www.cuisine-japon.fr/panko/). As always in Japan, the entire meal—dish and sides—is served on a tray.
With our bellies full, we head back to Kyoto—or more precisely, to Fushimi Inari, the Shinto shrine with its 10,000 torii gates.
At the lower part of the shrine, it’s packed with people, and we feel like we’re in a subway corridor rather than in the middle of nature. Luckily, the crowd thins out quickly, and we can continue our climb at a more relaxed pace.
All along the path, the fox, messenger of Inari, the kami (goddess) of rice, keeps us company. (More details here: www.joranne.com/...rquoi-le-renard.html)
These pretty inscriptions, to our European eyes, are actually the names of the torii sponsors. The most prominent torii gates can cost over a million yen.
The view of Kyoto at the end of our climb. We’re not quite sure where we stopped—none of the three maps we came across matched the others. Maps in Japan are actually quite surprising: first, they’re not oriented north-south but based on the environment. What’s in front of the reader corresponds to the top of the map, what’s behind to the bottom, left is left, and right is right. More logical but unusual. Also, and most importantly, they’re often not to scale but functional maps. This means intersections are correctly positioned relative to each other, but the distances between them aren’t accurate. It’s often misleading and can lead to a few surprises.
While preparing for our trip, I stumbled upon Naoshima—the art island—thanks to Anaïs and Pedro’s blog, if I remember correctly. In the 1980s, the president of Benesse Corporation, a company active in education, decided to transform Naoshima, a small island in the Seto Inland Sea, into a major cultural and artistic hub. Today, it’s home to several museums and numerous artworks scattered across the island.
As I dug deeper, I discovered that this year, the Setouchi Triennale, an international contemporary art festival, is taking place. From March to November, several islands in the Seto Inland Sea, including Naoshima, host multiple art installations. setouchi-artfest.jp/en/. That was all it took for us to decide to spend a few days in the area. Our plan: Naoshima and Teshima, which houses another Benesse museum.
For those interested in the region, here’s a list of sites to explore:
benesse-artsite.jp/en/ for everything about Benesse museums;
ogijima.fr/, a blog by an expat dedicated to the islands of the Seto Inland Sea and Takamatsu;
setouchiexplorer.com/, the same blog in English, this time focused on the Triennale;
unoportinn.com/local-tips/, the info-packed page from the hotel where we stayed. .
After some hesitation, we chose Uno, on the "mainland," as our base for these few days. Several reasons for this choice: accommodations on Naoshima are limited. There’s the hotel attached to the Benesse House Museum, but it’s way over our budget. There’s also the Tsutsujiso, but when I tried to book, only the yurts were available. Without air conditioning, I feared the worst, and the location is far from restaurants. Since we also want to visit Teshima, Uno isn’t a bad choice in the end, even if ferry schedules make travel a bit restrictive. For our stay, I had booked two rooms at Uno Slope House (unoslopehouse.com/), which has great reviews online. But the owner had since opened a hotel in the center (unoportinn.com/) and no longer operated the guesthouse. He offered to switch us. The upside: the hotel is super central, just a 2-minute walk from the train station and 3 minutes from the ferry docks. The downside: the road in front of the hotel isn’t super busy, but it’s noisy due to trucks. Since I’m ultra-sensitive to noise, the traffic was pretty bothersome. The others weren’t as bothered.
For now, we’re leaving Kyoto and experiencing the shinkansen, Japan’s famous bullet trains with their pointy noses. They’re really comfortable and spacious, and they’re so stable—no swaying like France’s TGV. The restrooms are a masterpiece of customer service: spacious enough to fit a wheelchair with room to turn around, and there’s even a sink outside the toilet.
We changed trains in Okayama, caught a regional train, made a second change, and then we were in Uno. We quickly dropped off our luggage at the hotel and set off immediately to catch the ferry. The next one wasn’t for several hours.
In Uno, we bought the Triennale pass (since we were also going to Teshima, there was no doubt it would be worth it), rented bikes, and stopped for a meal. Then we set off to explore the island. We decided to skip the installations in the villages for now and start with the Benesse Art Site, which groups together the two main museums and a few "permanent" statues, including Yayoi Kusama’s famous pumpkin and many works by Niki de Saint Phalle. With the heat, the few hills on the island made us sweat a lot. The site itself, which covers a significant part of the island, is off-limits to bikes (and cars, of course). So we left our rides in the parking lot at the entrance. The intense heat and scorching sun made us decide to take the free shuttle that serves all the main points of interest. We opted to go straight to the farthest building and walk back leisurely when the sun was less intense. The farthest building is the Chichu Art Museum, which houses four of Monet’s *Water Lilies*. It’s one of those museums that, like the Guggenheim in Bilbao or the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris, is a work of art in itself. Its architect, Tadao Ando, designed it around the artworks it was meant to house. Although the entire museum is underground, only natural light illuminates the works through a clever system of light wells and reflections. (unpointculture.com/...-museum-de-naoshima/)
When we arrived, there was no line—what luck, though we didn’t know it yet. I should mention that in Japan, unlike in France, museums seem much less crowded in the afternoon than in the morning.
The first room is dedicated to the *Water Lilies*. Access is limited: no more than 10 people are allowed in at the same time (hence our "luck"), and you have to take off your shoes. The floor is made of small white marble tiles. The paintings are lit by indirect light coming from slits in the ceiling around the edges of the room. This lighting gives the space a somewhat unreal feel. Undeniably, an experience.
The museum also houses a work by Walter de Maria, which was less impressive, and pieces by James Turrell, including a sensory experience based on a pretty mind-blowing optical illusion. We left the museum completely won over, exclaiming, "The Japanese really know their stuff!"
Putting our plan into action—"let’s walk back to the parking lot at a leisurely pace"—we headed to the Lee Ufan Museum, which didn’t impress us much. For those in a hurry, it’s a non-essential stop.
Somehow, we missed *Slag Buddha 88* by Tsuyoshi Ozawa—88 small Buddha statues made from industrial waste on Teshima. I’d spotted them before coming and really wanted to see them.
The Benesse House Museum was closed. We’d have to come back.
A first promontory features many artworks.
The Seto Inland Sea is also stunning.
A few more minutes of walking, and there it was—the famous pumpkin.
The lawn in front of the restaurant, featuring—among other things—works by Niki de Saint Phalle.
After picking up our bikes, we head straight back to Miyanoura port—we’ve got to stick to the rental shop’s schedule. The solid half-hour we have before the ferry arrives lets us explore the few artworks around the port.
- and wonder what those strange boats are actually for. (Anyone know?)
Once we arrive at the hotel, we fully settle into our room, complete with futons and yukatas (summer kimonos). The kids are thrilled. Another source of surprise and amusement: even though the bathroom is private, it’s not en-suite but down the hall. Funny setup. There are also washing machines available, so we take advantage of them.
For dinner, we head to one of the restaurants recommended by the hotel (they’ve got a whole series of handy little cards to help guests, covering Naoshima, Teshima, Uno, etc.). Again, it’s quite small, with only a few dishes on offer—but everything’s delicious.
This second day is dedicated to Teshima. Teshima is a bit like Naoshima was 10–15 years ago—larger and hillier. Sadly known in the 1980s for being a dumping ground for toxic waste, it now houses another Benesse museum, the Teshima Art Museum, a few other permanent artworks, the Shima Kitchen restaurant (www.shimakitchen.com/en/) designed by Ryo Abe, and, of course, the Triennale. Less known to the general public, it attracts far fewer tourists, mostly Japanese. The crowd is discreet and respectful.
Following advice we read online, we rent electric bikes this time. This choice might raise a few smiles, but these things are truly magical: on flat roads, they’re just like normal bikes, but as soon as the road climbs, the electric motor kicks in, so all you have to do is keep pedaling at a steady pace without much effort. Try one, and you’ll be sold.
Wanting to repeat the trick from the day before, we head straight for the Teshima Art Museum.
We make a quick stop at “Tom Na H-iu” (benesse-artsite.jp/en/art/tom-na-h-iu.html) by Mariko Mori. The artwork is hidden in the middle of the forest. The path to get there is muddy, so pristine white boots are provided to spare our shoes. Very Japanese.
Photos aren’t normally allowed, but I think I bent the rules a little.
The piece is connected to the neutrino detector at the Kamioka Observatory and lights up every time a neutrino is detected. Given how hard it is to catch a neutrino, we weren’t surprised that our brief visit didn’t let us see it light up.
Ouch! Upon arriving at the Teshima Art Museum, we find it’s already full. But as is typical in Japan, everything is well organized—tourists don’t cluster in long, chaotic lines waiting for space to open up. Instead, entry slots are scheduled every 15 minutes, and a hostess gives each visitor a ticket with the time they need to return to buy their ticket and enter. (If only museums in Paris could take a page from their book.) Our turn is in half an hour, so we decide to wait nearby in the shade rather than rush back and forth in the heat to another installation.
The Teshima Art Museum is a museum-work taken to its ultimate form: designed by Ryue Nishizawa and Rei Nato, the museum is essentially one massive artwork. **SPOILER ALERT**—I’d advise readers planning to visit to skip the next few lines to keep the surprise intact. It’s actually an enormous, curved hall with two roughly elliptical skylights. Everything is white, even the hostesses who manage entry. Again, you have to take off your shoes to enter. People sit directly on the floor. Talking is prohibited. Thanks to a clever system and a hydrophobic coating, water droplets meander across the floor, forming intricate networks. The whole experience has a slightly mystical vibe. Described like this, it might not sound particularly exciting, but in person, it’s really something.
Another great experience. “The Japanese just don’t quit!” What I love about them—among a thousand other things—is that when they set out to do something, they go all in. Here, the goal is to make modern art accessible to as many people as possible, and they’ve created a one-of-a-kind museum-work in the middle of nowhere.
A quick stroll through the rice fields overlooking the museum, and then we head up to the top of the village to reserve four spots at Shima Kitchen. While waiting for our time slot, we have enough time to explore the surroundings and a few installations. Among them, the "Storm House" (Janet Cardiff and Geaorge Bures Miller), which simulates a storm, as the name suggests. You enter the house, settle in, and a storm breaks out. Pretty mind-blowing. Another great experience. Then there's the "Hotel Lemon" (Smiles), with a pretty wacky visit. This one is done as a couple with an audio guide that invites you to complete mini-challenges. Nothing too scary, I assure everyone. Even though I still walk along sidewalks avoiding stepping on the crocodile lines, I had a lot of fun trying to avoid the fictional alligators in the fake pond. But you have to play along, otherwise, there's no charm. It also really helps to be in pairs—the coordination efforts add to the fun. The visit was filled with laughter and ended with even more laughter.
Just a little more effort and it’s « Particles in the Air » by Noe Aoki.
With a cute little shrine nearby.
We didn’t really connect with « Your First Colours » by Pipilotti Rist, though. All I remember is a hazy impression of colors flashing in the dark without much charm.
But that’s not all—it’s time to eat! We sat Japanese-style and enjoyed local dishes from two set menus: fish or vegetarian curry. Another great moment.
Off we go! We hop back on our bikes and head toward the port.
We stopped by « No Wins - Multibasket » by Jasmina Llobet and Luis Fernandez Pons. There were balls available, and I had a bit of trouble getting my three little ones away before they got heatstroke.
A few more pedal strokes and we reached « Les Archives du Cœur » by Christian Boltanski (ogijima.fr/...ves-coeur-boltanski/). A slightly unsettling experience: heartbeats are played in a dark room, lit only by a faint bulb flickering more or less in time with the heartbeat you hear. You can even feel the vibrations of the beats. For an extra fee, you can record and listen to your own heartbeat.
We then spent a good while searching for installation 33 around the village, but no luck. Turns out it’s only part of the autumn program—we realized that later. No installation 33, then, but we still discovered a lovely village.
The day flew by faster than we wanted, and we didn’t have time to explore the south of the island. We decide to head back to their place and arrive just in time to visit the « Teshima Yooko House », the result of a collaboration between architect Yuko Nagayama and painter Tadanori Yokoo. No photos allowed inside, so here’s the exterior, which gives a—very—vague idea. (For more photos, see here: http://www.archdaily.com/472507/teshima-yokoo-house-yuko-nagayama-and-associates). In a few words, the house is super playful with its light, color, and mirror effects. I really loved the glass floor in the “living room” and the river flowing underneath.
When we get there, « Needle Factory » by Shono Ohtake is about to close. We only have time for a quick look inside. Again, no photos allowed. So, the exterior it is.
Next up is another fruitless search to find Tobias Rehberger’s psychedelic café « Was du liebst, bringt dich auch zum Weinen », which I’d seen photos of online (https://setouchiexplorer.com/du-liebst-bringt-dich-auch-zum-weinen/). Turns out it was actually closed at that hour. No coffee, then, but another lovely discovery in the village.
Our kids put it best—we *loved* exploring Teshima. Wandering the island through its rice fields and villages in search of the different artworks was really cool. I’m already promising myself that when we retire—yes, that’s a long way off—we’ll come back in the spring during a Triennale and visit other small islands too.
Tonight, we’re heading back to the same restaurant as last night—it was such a hit. Yep, we’re creatures of habit.
Thanks! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate at all.
I really appreciate you adding new text as I progress through my reading
I’ll try to take advantage of this vacation period to make some progress.
Friday, August 5: More Naoshima – Train to Hiroshima
We still have almost a full day left to finish exploring Naoshima. This time, we’re renting electric bikes—it’s so much fun, and it’ll let us explore the steeper parts of the island. We take the other route to Benesse Art Site, the one marked “steep slopes” on the map. Super easy with our pro bikes! We stop at the Chichu Art Museum parking lot—way more crowded than the other day. We really lucked out. A quick shuttle ride, and we’re at the Benesse House Museum. Around forty modern works in total, with quite a few Japanese artists but not exclusively. The museum is spacious and pleasant to visit. It’s less unique than the previous two but still worth the detour. Either way, our oldest seems to really enjoy it, spending a long time in front of each painting.
To get to our next stop, Honmura, we cut across the island. Glad we went for the electric option! Here, we find a bit of the same vibe as Teshima and make some great discoveries.
One of the two dams.
« Another Rebirth » by Kimiyo Mishima.
« Labyrinth of Cherry Blossom » by Tadao Ando, on the other hand, didn’t win us over. The trees are so scrawny, and it’s not the right season. Maybe in a few years during spring…
Alright! Off we go to Honmura. This is where the Art House Project began. Also run by Benesse Art Site, this program aims to restore old houses and turn them into mini-museums/art spaces. These houses are accessible year-round, independent of the Triennale.
We start with Minamidera, which houses « Backside of the Moon by James Turrell. Another interesting sensory experience. We enter in small groups. (A ticket system with a set time to arrive is in place. When we went, there were only a few people. The wait allowed us to visit the Ando Museum right next door.) We move forward in complete darkness through a corridor that effectively isolates the house from outside light. We sit down and wait. Little by little, our eyes begin to perceive what was invisible. Undoubtedly the best of the Houses of Honmura we visited.
As for the Ando Museum, it was a bit disappointing: sure, it has some interesting photos of the construction of the Chichu Art Museum, but overall, we were left wanting more.
After managing—with some difficulty—to grab a bite, we continue exploring the other houses. They’re clearly a step, or even two, below Minamidera. That said, we didn’t visit Kinza, which is reputed to be the most extraordinary house, but access is highly restricted (one person at a time, with a 15-minute visit—only 18 people per day). We also skipped Go’O Shrine, partly out of laziness. Probably a mistake.
No photos except for the exterior shots of Haisha (« Dreaming Tongue, Bokkon-Nozoki » by Shinro Ohtake). We really liked this house, which can be explored both inside and out.
Back to Miyanoura. A stop in front of the Naoshima Bath "I❤️島" and its fascinating façade. These are actually public baths, so it’s possible to see the interior.
We take a quick trip to Miyanoura Gallery 6, which I remember vaguely—except for how kind the staff were when our youngest started bleeding from the nose, bending over backwards to help. There was also a nice little film about the lives of the locals and the history of Naoshima, though I might’ve dozed off a bit in the coolness of the room.
A quick ferry ride and we’re in Uno. A quick look at two artworks housed in the city, a stop at the hotel to grab our bags, and we jump on the train to Hiroshima.
Thanks so much for the compliment and for taking the time to leave a little note.
Saturday, August 6: Hiroshima
Everyone knows: on August 6, 1945, the U.S. military dropped the first nuclear bomb in history over Hiroshima, and the city was wiped off the map. 75,000 people were killed instantly, and tens of thousands more in the days that followed. In total, 140,000 of the 350,000 inhabitants lost their lives within six months of the blast, not to mention the long-term effects on many other victims.
We made sure to be in Hiroshima on August 6 to attend the Peace Memorial ceremonies, especially the floating lanterns on the Motoyasu River at nightfall. We could’ve—we should’ve—made an effort to get up a little earlier that morning to attend the other ceremonies and the dove release at 8:15, the exact time the bomb hit, but laziness got the better of us… Anyway, the day was already underway by the time we set off.
To get to the Peace Memorial Park, we decided to take a little stroll through the city, passing by Shitenchi, the nightlife district,
and Hondori, a large shopping area spanning several pedestrian, covered, and air-conditioned streets—as I’ve already mentioned before. We got acquainted with Japanese store signs,
and with Pepper, the humanoid robot from Aldebaran, a French robotics company that was acquired by Japanese telecom operator Softbank. A real conversation between deaf people: Pepper only speaks Japanese, but it’s cute and funny with all its expressions.
A little effort and here we are at the Peace Memorial Park. Lots of people here on this day of commemorations. It’s clearly a classic visit for Japanese families.
The morning ceremony installations are still in place. Many Japanese are paying their respects in front of the cenotaph for the bomb victims. Didn’t have the energy to queue in the blazing sun for the photo in line with the axis. Nor the desire to play the obnoxious tourist in this atmosphere of reflection. Oh well, no photo then!
We head to the Peace Museum, partly closed but still interesting and, of course, deeply moving.
Right from the start, a model helps you grasp the scale of the blast. There are also period photos, burnt clothes, objects found in the ruins, twisted doors, melted statues, traces of the black rain that followed the explosion... All these elements show the extent, the intensity of the damage, and the horror of it all. But, despite what I’d read, there aren’t—or at least very few and easily avoidable—images that would justify not bringing young children. In fact, Japanese families come here as part of a kind of duty of remembrance. That’s actually what’s striking in this museum: the duty of memory. The facts are presented—at least in the English version—with an emphasis on objectivity, without hatred or condemnation. Volunteer survivors of the disaster are also there to share their testimonies. When I’d talked with one of the hotel staff in Uno about Hiroshima and the atomic bomb, this calmness without resentment, simply marked by deep sadness, had already struck me.
The long-term effects of the bomb are also presented, and the visit ends with the story of Sadako, who developed leukemia and believed that if she managed to fold 1,000 paper cranes, she would be saved. Since then, these paper cranes have become a symbol of hope, and people continue to send them from all over the world.
As moving as it is, this museum is, in my opinion, a must-see during a visit to Hiroshima. It also teaches you a lot about Japanese society.
We continued our visit by systematically exploring the park:
— the Peace Memorial Hall,
— the Flame of Peace, which has been burning since 1964 and will remain lit as long as nuclear weapons exist,
— the Peace Bell,
— the Children’s Peace Monument and its garlands of paper cranes,
— and, on the other side of the river, the Atomic Bomb Dome. Located just 100 meters from the hypocenter, it’s one of the few buildings that remained more or less standing within a 2-kilometer radius.
Undeniably moving. But all that shouldn’t stop us from eating. Today at lunch, we tried—without having sought it out—we simply picked a restaurant where lots of people were going in without knowing what to expect—a ramen chain called Ichiran. The concept is simple: you order meal tickets from a vending machine (basically ramen plus any extras); with your ticket in hand, you fill out a form to specify your preferences: strong/mild, spicy/sweet, with or without scallions… you wait, then you’re seated either in the main dining area or in private booths, and your meal arrives. You can ask for a refill of broth. A fun concept. We had a bit of trouble understanding at first, especially realizing it’s a restaurant that only serves ramen, and it was only when the line behind us started growing that we decided to order four ramens and a pork extra.
With our stomachs full, we head to Shukkei-en, Hiroshima’s famous garden. Since I didn’t map out the route well, I took us on a detour through Hiroshima’s green area. These wanderings let us stumble upon the hypocenter memorial plaque, surprisingly discreet,
… a protest—given the date, likely against nuclear weapons,
Thanks for this beautiful and rich travel journal!
I’m following it closely because we’ll be in Japan for 2 weeks this summer, and also in Hiroshima on August 6th.
How much time did you spend at the memorial museum?
Thanks!
Looking forward to the next episode! 🙂
Thanks for this travel journal—I’m reading it bit by bit!
We’re also planning to be in Hiroshima on August 6th. We’re thinking of spending 2 days / 3 nights there. On August 6th, is it possible to visit all the sites and museums as on other days? Are there more people at these places? Do the commemorations mainly take place in the morning around 8 AM and in the evening after dark? That would mean we’d have to take the train on the morning of August 7th.
Thanks, and looking forward to reading more! !
3 semaines au Japon Novembre 2011 Bonjour, De retour d’un magnifique voyage au pays des momiji, je tiens tout d’abord à remercier tous ceux d’entre vous qui…
Je vais vous narrer ici nos vacances dans cet étonnant pays. Vous pourrez suivre cette aventure jours après jours et échanger sur notre expérience. Nous…
Après avoir usé et abusé des nombreux conseils de ce forum, justice sera rendue! Donc voilà, je me lance et vous fait part de mon expérience: 3 semaines au…
Ce forum m'a aidé à prévoir ce voyage cet été fin juillet début août, de 14 nuits sur place. Merci aux "animateurs" de ce forum, même si souvent je lis sans…
Il y a quelques mois je revenais émerveillé par les paysages gigantesques de l'ouest américain. J'avais fait un carnet de voyage pour faire partager ce périple…
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
This travel journal summarizes a trip I took in March to Argentine and Chilean Patagonia. It starts in El Calafate and ends in Ushuaia. During my planning, I considered looking into the Australis cruise from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, as well as the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. In both cases, I was put off by the prices. Instead of the cruise, I found two interesting wildlife excursions from Punta Arenas: whale watching in the Strait of Magellan and observing king penguins in Tierra del Fuego. The journey to Ushuaia was by bus. For Torres del Paine, things were a bit confusing, so I reached out to two agencies. In the end, I went with a rental car option, overnight stays on-site, and day hikes. I shared my full itinerary with the agency and ended up being taken care of by a local Argentine agency and a Chilean one.
So, here we go...
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After the summer of 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland for the summer of 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which, from what we’ve read, is stunning but very crowded (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last wild space—I think it’s incredibly inspiring!!
The downside of this choice is that there are no resupply options in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with Sarek in mind.
But hey, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to abandon the Sarek crossing.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our overstuffed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - So, Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
Coming up:
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
Just back from two weeks in Andalusia, and I wanted to share this experience with you—maybe it’ll help with planning a trip. I’ll start with a quick recap in this post and try to add photos and day-by-day details later (still sorting through them). Hope I don’t bore you too much! 😎
Trip details:
April 20 to May 4, 2019:
7 days on the Costa de la Luz (El Puerto de Santa María) in an Airbnb,
4 days at the junction of the Costa del Sol and Costa Tropical (Salobreña) in an Airbnb,
3 days at Cabo de Gata for some rest at a campsite in Los Escullos.
Two families of four, each with our own car: three 9-year-old boys and a 6-year-old girl. One family was more into city exploration (not us, but we’re working on it), and the other preferred relaxation and nature (that’s us). We speak a little Spanish.
Over 5,000 km, including 2,500 km for the round trip from Carcassonne.
The weather: Variable, but we expected better for this region in late April. The first week on the Costa de la Luz was sometimes chilly (< 20°C), and the second week was warmer but not excessive (< 25°C). At least we didn’t get much rain!
Our budget: Around 2600 € per family:
700 € for accommodations, about 50 € per night,
1000 € for meals and restaurants. We usually spent around 50 € per family at restaurants—we ate out for lunch (except for 2–3 picnics) and cooked at home in the evenings, trying to be back by 6 PM.
600 € for activities: Río Tinto, a flamenco show, visits to the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar, Oasis Park with meals, and a kayaking trip.
300 € for gas and tolls.
Preparation: A few months ahead with bookings for accommodations and tickets for the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar. We used a few travel guides—I like the *Évasion* guide for initial planning. *Géoguide* was okay, but our friends’ *Routard* was the most useful. We also spent three months brushing up on Spanish with Mosalingua (a great spaced-repetition method, max 10 minutes a day). Downloaded Maps.me and the Andalusia map in advance—essential. And we used Tricount to track shared expenses with friends—super handy.
What we did/saw:
3 city visits (Seville, Granada, and Cádiz) + Málaga for our friends (we vetoed Córdoba—too many cities for us).
4 white villages (Vejer de la Frontera, Arcos de la Frontera, Grazalema, Ronda) + Tarifa for our friends.
Beaches (Tarifa and Bolonia, Matalascañas, Nerja, Cabo de Gata).
Nature and fun moments: Doñana National Park, a kayaking trip along the rocky coast near Nerja, and the Wild West/animal park in the Tabernas Desert.
A little culture: Río Tinto mines, the archaeological site of Itálica, Columbus’s caravels, Nerja Cave for us, and the Picasso Museum in Málaga for our friends. Plus, seeing the ham-drying process in the Alpujarras (for our friends).
Our highlights
Nerja and the surrounding villages: The rocky coast was amazing, and we loved the kayaking trip, even if the water was freezing for snorkeling. The beaches are sheltered from the wind, the town is charming, and the cave is incredible.
El Rocío and Doñana National Park. El Rocío has a timeless, almost Wild West vibe—we could’ve stayed a day or two. The quiet and pine scents reminded us of the Landes region.
What we didn’t love as much:
Río Tinto mines: Not super exciting, and the guides’ nonstop chatter kind of ruined the "nature" experience.
Our little regrets (for next time):
Forgetting our passports and missing a day trip to Tangier from Tarifa.
Not having an extra day around Nerja to go snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada—just 1.5 hours away (the kayak guide suggested it).
Not spending at least one night in El Rocío to explore Doñana National Park at dawn.
Antequera with the Guadalhorce reservoir and the Caminito del Rey (but it would’ve meant 2 more hours of driving, and we didn’t have the energy).
My general impressions of Andalusia and Spain
Landscapes: A feeling of extreme concentration of a single activity in some areas—endless olive groves, wind farms on the Costa de la Luz (which I thought were well-integrated), rows of buildings along the Costa del Sol (yikes, glad we didn’t stop there), greenhouses around Almería (a shame to have frozen the coast for so many kilometers), and the massive industrial port of Huelva.
What surprised us compared to France was the lack of small hamlets—villages are clearly defined, and people cluster there, leaving vast landscapes without human presence. In France, you find houses scattered everywhere.
Roads: Relatively few tolls. Sure, rest areas aren’t as nice as in France, but the roads are in good condition, and our wallet was happy. The roads are pretty straight with countless bridges and tunnels—the upside (besides fast travel) is that there aren’t many secondary roads disrupting the scenery.
Tourism and activities: A huge variety and richness. Feels like everyone can find something they like, and 15 days barely scratched the surface. It’s amazing how quickly you go from the coast to snow-capped peaks (Sierra Nevada) or from farmland to desert (Tabernas). And the mix of European and Arabic architecture in the same city is really special.
One small regret: Not interacting more with locals. We didn’t luck out with our Airbnbs. But shopkeepers were great—very patient with my broken Spanish! :-)
Overall, I think our choice to stay on the Costa de la Luz and then near Nerja worked well. We could explore pretty easily (even if we logged a lot of kilometers), and the settings were fantastic. The 3 days of total relaxation at Cabo de Gata were perfect.
If you prefer shorter stops, you could try staying in El Rocío (easy access to Seville and great for an early visit to Doñana National Park) or maybe Grazalema for a hike in the mountains (weather-dependent). And of course, Tarifa for a day trip to Tangier or Gibraltar.
Street vendor.
The visit ends way too soon for our liking. We had a great morning. Angelo is a passionate Osaka local who wants to share and help people love his city. He succeeds perfectly. I really recommend it. After a few more tips, Angelo leaves us near several restaurants.
For lunch, we choose a Tonkatsu restaurant, a Japanese specialty with a special breadcrumb coating called panko, much lighter than our European breadcrumbs (www.cuisine-japon.fr/panko/). As always in Japan, the entire meal—dish and sides—is served on a tray.
The day flew by faster than we wanted, and we didn’t have time to explore the south of the island. We decide to head back to their place and arrive just in time to visit the « Teshima Yooko House », the result of a collaboration between architect Yuko Nagayama and painter Tadanori Yokoo. No photos allowed inside, so here’s the exterior, which gives a—very—vague idea. (For more photos, see here: 
We start with Minamidera, which houses « Backside of the Moon by James Turrell. Another interesting sensory experience. We enter in small groups. (A ticket system with a set time to arrive is in place. When we went, there were only a few people. The wait allowed us to visit the Ando Museum right next door.) We move forward in complete darkness through a corridor that effectively isolates the house from outside light. We sit down and wait. Little by little, our eyes begin to perceive what was invisible. Undoubtedly the best of the Houses of Honmura we visited.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
A little sneak peek?
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
