I'm starting a new travel journal in Italy.
It's about a month-long trip (from September 3, 2025, to October 4, 2025), or rather a part of it. This section matches the title: an opera festival in Verona (one evening) and the Dolomites in the Veneto region.
I'm posting the part of the trip I think will interest French-speaking readers the most (since this is where I saw the most French travelers).
Here’s a quick summary:
- Trip in September 2025
- Solo travel with camping (caravan)
- Small geographic area: besides Verona, the surroundings of the Marmolada massif and Cortina d'Ampezzo.
- Main but not exclusive activity: hiking.
Since I have limited internet access where I am now, I’ll be writing slowly.
Here we go!
Day 1: Thursday, September 4, 2025
I arrived in Veneto under the sun and with warm weather. I drove to Verona and tried to find a spot at the campsite (Verona Village) located south of the city. Unfortunately, it was full. Booking on the website was mandatory, but when I tried to reserve a few days ago, the site never moved from the "reservation" step to the "payment" step (I don’t know why—it’s always like that in these cases).
I found another solution over the phone; the drive from southern Verona to the northeast was a bit long, but I finally settled at the "Oro Verde" campsite. It’s an "agricampeggio" (farm camping or rural campsite) on the outskirts of the city, and its name (green gold) suggests they produce olives there.
Since it wasn’t late, I biked to the Adige River, following the recommended route into the city.
I planned a very relaxed day because the reason for stopping in Verona is the opera festival at the Arena; I’ve booked a seat for tonight.
I’m going for a walk in the center of Verona, a stroll that will turn into a bad memory of the trip. I park my mountain bike less than 5 meters from the entrance of the tourist info point and head out for a short hour-long walk without intending to visit anything.
As I approach the Adige River, I arrive in front of the Arch of the Gavi (arco dei Gavi), a triumphal arch built in honor of members of a family.
Behind the arch, you reach a terrace by the Adige where you can admire the "ponte di Castelvecchio" (Scaliger Bridge), a medieval bridge with its three uneven arches.
You can cross this bridge, which in the Middle Ages connected the castle to the countryside.
The restoration preserved or restored its medieval appearance; by climbing onto the benches, you can see the Adige flowing and, downstream, the next bridge (Ponte della Vittoria), which marks the start of the loop surrounding the city center.
The city center was already the heart of the Roman city in the 1st century AD. I enter it by passing under a monumental gate once part of the Roman walls: porta Borsari. Only the outer facade remains; it’s not marble but local white limestone.
Through narrower, pedestrian streets, I reach the Herb Square (piazza delle erbe) and then the Lords’ Square (piazza dei Signori), at the center of which stands a statue of Dante.
Right next door, the Old Market Courtyard (cortile del Mercato Vecchio) is bordered by the Palace of Reason (Palazzo della Ragione).
These two squares and the Old Market Courtyard are only a few dozen meters apart and form the heart of the city. On my way back to the arena, I pass through the main street of the center (via Giuseppe Mazzini) and return to the starting point.
And then... my mountain bike is gone. It was stolen while I was away. I’ll later learn, once back at the campsite, that this type of theft is common in Verona. I’m really upset, both because I liked that bike and because of the consequences for the trip; I’ll have to get around either by car or on foot, without using a bike, which I’m not used to.
A few errands and some downtime in the afternoon in preparation for the evening at the Verona Arena.
The opera on the program is *Nabucco* by Giuseppe Verdi, directed by Stefano Poda.
The temperature is perfect.
From the very beginning of the show (and even before it starts), it’s clear that the deliberate choice is to go beyond a traditional opera performance and offer a total spectacle with a very futuristic vision.
And even before that... because two large structures (metal or fiber, with neon or laser lights) are suspended above the stage, floating in space.
Imagine a tennis ball.
A closed curve (where there’s no yellow felt) is drawn on the ball’s surface. Cut the ball (with a cutter) along this curve. You get two surfaces, parts of a sphere. They’re not what we call hemispheres, but we’ve still divided the sphere into two equal parts—let’s say semi-spheres.
Now, think in 3D: draw segments from the center of the sphere to any point on the edge of these two parts (these segments are like radii). That’s what’s floating above the stage in the Verona Arena—two semi-spheres.
Here’s one during the show (I chose a photo where these segments—the radii—are visible).
Two things from my personal history made the geometric identification of these shapes immediate and obvious. And I knew, even before the show started, that at some point they would come together and fit into each other to form a sphere or a ball... This happened at the end of the opera, during the final reconciliation-expiation scene.
For those without the key (a tennis ball and sphere geometry), I suppose the presence of such unidentified structures must be puzzling... you might think they resemble mollusk shells like those you’d see in natural history museums.
Two months after writing the above, I’ll add this: in my opinion, these structures look like cashew nuts (I couldn’t find a better intuitive comparison).
For most of the show, the immense stage was filled with hundreds of choristers, dancers, and extras. The costumes are beautiful—either timeless or futuristic. The mass effect is used to the fullest, highlighted by special effects for masks, swords, foldable mobile structures (prisons), etc.
"Vanity" sits atop an enormous hourglass; it will flow into it, and down the staircase extending below, in glowing letters but also in flesh and blood when certain protagonists descend the stairs to enter the stage.
Hundreds of other hourglasses will appear on stage, brought by adults or children, held vertically or horizontally.
There will also be an atomic explosion when Nebuchadnezzar, abandoning his status as King, proclaims himself God.
The use of the stage space is captivating, dazzling (perhaps because I’d never seen an opera presented this way), and visually stunning. Being seated high up, near the front, on the side, posed no problem for taking in the whole scene.
As for the music and voices, the magic of the arena makes everything work. The effect of distance is still noticeable for the voices, though.
There was, however, one aspect of the staging that really bothered me—literally. Identifying the protagonists on stage, where there are often many people, isn’t easy; you have to search, sometimes for a while, to first find a group (the protagonists often have an entourage around them), then the protagonist within the group. Plus, the similarity of the costumes doesn’t make it easy to "separate" the protagonist from their entourage. Is it more natural and easier with a frontal view? I don’t know, but it would be preferable.
In the end, I’m left with the memory of an exceptional performance, marking my return to the arena 60 years after my first visit. I saw *Aida* here in the mid-1960s.
To see and hear—to experience—the show, search for ‘Nabucco Verona 2025’ on YouTube. You’ll find a 2-hour, 15-minute recording. It’s a capture by RAI from the premiere in June (it starts with the Italian national anthem, as it was the festival’s opening night).
To get a normal-length night’s sleep, I decide not to leave early and take my time hitting the road to the Dolomites. The drive is slow, and the end of the bypass around Vicenza is very poorly signposted.
The scenery gets beautiful as I reach the Piave River, whose valley I’ll follow upstream.
The signage helps me avoid the town of Belluno; the climb up the “fiume Piave” valley continues to Longarone, where I turn into Val di Zoldo—a lovely valley with a string of villages. I go all the way to the last hamlet before the pass, called Palafavera, above Zoldo Alto.
I set up at the campsite. It’s located between 1,500 and 1,550 meters in altitude. Across the road, there are ski lifts, biathlon facilities (a shooting range), and two mountain huts. The road then climbs to Forcella Staulanza (1,773 m) to switch valleys (I’ll do that tomorrow).
The site is dominated by Monte Pelmo (3,168 m), basking in the late-afternoon sun on its southwest face.
I chose this spot over Cortina d’Ampezzo because it’s a bit closer to the Marmolada massif, where I’ve planned my first hikes.
You’ll find maps in post 36 (end of the travel journal) to locate the different places mentioned in the Dolomites.
I went to Verona back in 2021, and a friend had recommended I see a show at the Arena. I didn’t do it, and now I regret it—I’ll have to go someday.
Anyway, your description of the stage and the opera is really detailed and gives a great idea of the show. I took a quick look at the YouTube video, and I can see why you called it "exceptional."
I also didn’t bother waiting in line for Juliet’s house—I guess the queue is still just as long for that tourist trap.
You weren’t lucky with your mountain bike—getting it stolen on the second day!
I’ll be following the rest of your travel journal with interest—I don’t know the Dolomites at all.
" Celui qui voyage sans rencontrer l'autre ne voyage pas , il se déplace "
( Alexandra David-Néel )
" Ahora todos quieren ser latinos , no , ey , pero les falta sazon , bateria y reggaeton " ( Bad Bunny )
Hi Marie,
thanks for your interest in this travel journal.
The opera festival in Verona’s arenas is world-famous; just so you know, I booked my seat on the website only 10 days before the show—I hadn’t locked in my travel dates any earlier.
Today’s hike takes place under bright sunshine and summer-like temperatures. But before setting off, Monte Civetta (3,220m) is bathed in the morning sun.
Palafavera is indeed a unique spot between Monte Pelmo (to the east, sunny in the afternoon) and Monte Civetta (to the west, sunny in the morning).
The planned hike doesn’t start from Palafavera but from Arabba (a village at the foot of Passo Pordoi). It’s a stage of the “Sentiero Italia”: Rifugio Castiglioni Pian di Fedaia - Arabba (I have the GPX track), the best balcony hike in front of the Marmolada massif. The start and finish points are in two different valleys, so I’ve adapted the route as follows:
Start in Arabba - Take the cable car up to Porta Vescovo - Descend to Pian di Fedaia (trail 698) - Then the Sentiero Italia stage: climb via trail 698 - Variant via the geological trail to Passo Padon (trail 680A then trail 680) - Trail 699 to the cable car’s intermediate station - Trail 698 from the intermediate station back to Arabba.
There’s traffic this morning, but even more people at Forcella Staulanza (a starting point for hikes), the pass connecting Val di Zoldo to Val d’Agordo.
The road to Arabba is very scenic the whole way. In Arabba, parking is paid throughout the village (they’re really strict about this in the Dolomites). I find a spot just before entering the village and start from there.
I head to the cable car, buy a one-way ticket to Porta Vescovo (17.50 € according to my notes), and get into a cabin. It’s not crowded: just 2 other people in my cabin, a mountain biker in the previous one, and no one else around. At the top, about ten people are admiring the view of the Marmolada massif with its glacier on the north face. The entire hike up to Passo Padon unfolds with this view of the Marmolada; only the altitude (we’re almost at the highest point) and the position (we’re moving east) change.
A little further west in the Marmolada massif, Gran Vernel is impressive from every angle.
I start the descent toward the dam of the artificial lake (Pian di Fedaia), where I ended my hike during my 2021 trip to Trentino.
After a few photos near the dam, I head back up the same path to a trail junction. Most of the elevation gain is done, and I head toward Passo Padon and the namesake refuge, staying between 2,300 and 2,400 meters.
I’ll comment on the eastern part of the glacier, where people ski in winter. To the left, the second intermediate station of the cable car is on its rock (2,800 meters); to the right, you can make out the upper station (3,200 meters). The connection between the two is via a cable with a single pylon (on the rock near the intermediate station). I’ll come back to all this tomorrow.
Passo Padon offers sweeping views of the peaks to the east. We see Monte Civetta again, from a different angle than this morning. The northwest face, which is vertical, isn’t in the sun yet.
Monte Pelmo is a little further away (zoomed-in photo); it’s also seen from a different angle than the one at Palafavera.
Once the pass is crossed, the landscape opens up to the north, both east and west. In the distance, you can see the “Tofane,” three iconic peaks above Cortina d’Ampezzo (heavily zoomed-in photo).
From here, I start descending toward Arabba (I only lose altitude gradually and am in the Arabba ski area), with the Sella massif in front of me, peaking at Piz Boé (3,152 meters). The peak in the background to the left (you can make out a cable car station) is Sass Pordoi above Passo Pordoi.
Behind me, Monte Padon towers over the pass I’ve just crossed. Its particularity is that it’s of volcanic origin, even though it’s in the Dolomites.
Day 4: Sunday, September 7, 2025 (continued)
This part of the descent (the upper section) is full of marmots; they’re very wary and hard to photograph.
Once I reached the intermediate cable car station, I continued the descent to Arabba; this second part (intermediate station - Arabba) is much steeper than the upper section (Passo Padon - intermediate station).
On the way back to Palafavera, I stopped twice. First stop at the Colle Santa Lucia viewpoint, set up to admire Monte Civetta above and Val d’Agordo below. The sun had shifted and was now hitting the northwest face.
On the climb toward Passo Staulanza, a second stop with another view of Monte Pelmo.
I got back pretty late since I took my time on the hike. Hardly any other hikers around, especially on the return stretch from Passo Padon to Arabba.
Today, I’m not hiking; I decided to head to the top of Marmolada by cable car—well, almost to the top, since the cable car reaches 3,265 meters, while the summit is at 3,343 meters.
I drive to Malga Ciapela (1,450 meters), where the cable car starts. Of course, the parking lot right next to the lower station is paid—a real shame when you think that 95% of the people parking here are taking a round-trip from Malga Ciapela to Marmolada for 38 € (they’ve got to fill all the cash registers). Free parking (for now) near the campervan area, about 800 meters from the cable car departure.
The first section, Malga Ciapela to Banc d’Antermoia, is truly impressive: a single span with a 900-meter elevation gain.
I just switch cabins at Banc d’Antermoia and, a few minutes later, arrive at the Serauta station (2,950 meters). I’ll spend some time there on the way down, but for now, it’s straight to the top—Punta Rocca (3,265 meters).
The panoramic terrace is built on the roof of the cable car station, with a view of Punta Penia, the highest point in the Dolomites, and its 1,000-meter vertical drop on the southern side.
You can see the cross at the summit.
Below, I spot Lake Fedaia and the trails from yesterday’s hike, from Porta Vescovo to Passo Padon. Among the massifs visible from here (but not from yesterday’s route) is Sassolungo, above Canazei.
South of Punta Penia, the Ombretta massif has a very rugged appearance. The pass in the foreground (Passo dell’Ombretta) lies just below Punta Penia, connecting Val Contrin with Malga Ciapela. It’s probably tough to access given the slope and scree on both sides.
You can also see the Madonna Grotto, carved into the rock, which you reach from inside the cable car station. The inevitable Pope John Paul II visited it.
Finally, you can take a few steps on the glacier—it’s a glacier on borrowed time, and recent trends suggest it’ll disappear completely between 2040 and 2050 (thanks to climate change). This is the top of the Marmolada ski slopes, heading in the direction of the photo.
After practicing identifying them yesterday, I recognize Monte Civetta, Monte Pelmo, and the “Tofane” (in the photo). An orientation table helps with the other peaks.
This photo is taken from the top of the third section of the cable car; the glacier is below the cable, similar to the photo I took yesterday near Passo Padon (it’s the same glacial tongue seen from two different spots).
I head back down to the intermediate station (Serauta), where I have a picnic and visit the Great War Museum.
The museum has an indoor section dedicated to the war at high altitude: fighting took place here from 1915 to 1917 (lots of artifacts, photos, and archival films).
Among other things I learned, the Austrians had dug a network of trenches into the glacier (invisible from the surface since they were entirely within the ice) to provide shelter for soldiers. Since the idea didn’t stay secret, glaciers were bombed during this war—here and in Adamello (another site of the “White War” at around 3,000 meters).
The outdoor section of the museum occupies the slope of Punta Serauta, where the Italians had set up a system of pathways, shelters, and firing positions.
I return to Malga Ciapela. The road back down follows the valley floor, and I stop at the first village, Sottoguda. You have to park downstream and walk back up through the pedestrian-only village: cobblestone streets, a church, traditional houses, a tourist office where I buy Dolomites posters, and a small grocery store where I do some shopping.
A few hundred meters past the top of the village, on this abandoned road, you can access the “Serrai di Sottoguda,” which I won’t do since the site just closed. The old road to Passo Fedaia used to pass through here: crossing the village, then entering a very narrow gorge 2.5 km long that led to Malga Ciapela.
The modern road bypasses the village, crosses a bridge, and goes through a tunnel. The old road, originally a mule track, has become a walkway (paid access), likely very shady given how narrow the “Serrai di Sottoguda” gorges are.
Weather-wise, it’s a pretty nice day: the sky is overcast (at very high altitude) but very bright. Unusually mild for this elevation (3,200 and 2,950 meters).
A change in weather is forecast for tomorrow.
Back to hiking today; the weather forecast predicts overcast skies, but rain isn’t expected until 4 PM. I’m planning a shorter route, following the one from the day before yesterday on the "Sentiero Italia": Arabba - Pralongià.
I’m cutting the route even shorter by skipping the climb from Arabba to Passo di Campolongo, the pass between Arabba and Corvara. I should’ve done the climb and descent on foot since I no longer have my bike, but I’m opting for the shorter route: Passo di Campolongo - Pralongià (round trip).
The altitude is moderate: 1,875 meters at the pass, 2,140 meters at Pralongià. The trail is easy, located in Corvara’s ski area, passing through forests and mostly alpine pastures.
The view extends over the Sella massif (see the day before yesterday) and the Puez-Odle range.
Below, the Corvara valley and the Puez-Odle massif.
A zoomed-in view of "Punta di Puez" (2,913 meters, still). This massif is in Alto-Adige, and I won’t be going that way at all for the rest of the trip.
Now I can see Pralongià, the goal of the hike (where I’ll turn back), on the ridge above the dirt road. The scenery looks like this from start to finish.
At Pralongià, the small St. Anthony’s Chapel (1977) sits between the chairlifts and the refuge.
The alpine pastures of Corvara and San Cassiano surround the Pralongià plateau.
I’ll head back up this small valley, which I descended on the way out, to the trees at the top.
Shortly after, the first raindrops start falling. It’s around 12:30 PM, and I take shelter in a hut 50 meters off the trail. Inside are members of a family—grandparents and grandchildren—who, like me, are waiting for the rain to stop. They come here every year the week before school starts. Since the rain doesn’t let up, everyone has a picnic, and the wait continues.
Suddenly, one of the kids, who had gone outside, comes back in announcing there’s a naked man outside. A few seconds later, the man enters the hut. He’s wearing hiking shoes and shorts, bare-chested, no hat. Since it’s been raining for over an hour, water is streaming off him from head to toe, yet he doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. It’s really not warm out, and I’d been hiking in multiple layers before putting on a rain jacket when the rain started. Unbelievable!
He’s mushroom picking and shows us a bag with several kilos inside (I recognized porcini among other species). He leaves again, still acting like it’s 25°C and sunny. I know Italians are crazy about mushrooms, but I’d never seen anything like this before.
Around 2:30 PM, I decide to walk in the rain for the 40 minutes it’ll take to get back to the car. The rain will continue until evening…
Once back, I check the weather forecast. "Tomorrow, rain all day; then very unsettled weather until the end of the week." I’ll leave the Dolomites tomorrow morning. I’ll come back as soon as the weather improves.
It rained all night, and it’s still raining this morning. I set off and head down to about 10 km from Belluno, then turn toward Vittorio Veneto.
I settle a few kilometers from this town in a hilly area, wedged between the plain and the Prealps. I’m going to explore this little region (the Prosecco region) and the towns of Conegliano and Vittorio Veneto—it’s in the northern part of the province of Treviso.
It’s not in the Dolomites, so it won’t be in my travel journal.
I’ll check the weather forecast daily for Cortina d'Ampezzo and the surrounding area. I don’t want to ruin the hikes I’ve planned around this town—I’ll head back up to Cortina on Sunday, September 14.
Hi Noëlle,
I think the hikes around Cortina d'Ampezzo are even more beautiful than the ones at the start of the trip; the weather will also be much sunnier in the upcoming part.
I’m back in the Dolomites. The last cloud remnants cleared in the morning while I was making my way to Cortina d’Ampezzo. It’s an easier climb compared to Val di Zoldo: more kilometers but a slightly lower altitude of just over 1,200 meters (instead of the 1,500 meters reached at Palafavera).
The camping area is located downstream from the town center, quite far from it, near the "torrente Boite" stream that flows just a few steps away. Three campgrounds are set up in this area; they’re called "Cortina," "Dolomiti," and "Rocchetta," and they operate without reservations (good to know for anyone planning to come in August). I chose the "Cortina" campground because it stays open, while the other two close during or at the end of the week. There’s a fourth campground in Cortina d’Ampezzo, located about 4 km north of the town on the road to Dobbiaco (not sure how it operates?).
I arrived before 1 p.m. and had the afternoon free to pick up some mountain activities again. I decided to visit a castle, the Castello d’Andraz, which is only open on Saturdays and Sundays in September. To get there, you have to climb the Passo del Falzarego, one of the legendary passes in the Cortina d’Ampezzo area. It’s really beautiful as soon as you leave town, and I think it gets even more stunning a few kilometers before the pass. You can see the Lagazuoi and the cable car that goes up from Passo Falzarego.
I crossed the pass and started descending toward Val d’Agordo, which is just as beautiful as the Cortina side. After 5 km, a small road on the right (a dead end) leads to Castello d’Andraz.
From this angle, the background of the photo is dominated by the Averau-Nuvolau massif. A different shot would show the Lagazuoi, which is further to the left.
The castle overlooks the valley and is built against a massive rock. Below the rock, there’s a forecourt (which isn’t an entrance to the castle) preceded by a fortification, and the actual south façade is built above the rock’s ridge. On the north side, a stream flows at the bottom of a sheer gorge, and they had to build the access level right away (a single access via a drawbridge, whose location you can still make out).
The model below helps you better understand the elevation of the structure.
A detailed audio guide provides historical information and insights into the construction (let’s call them architectural details). It was a border between the possessions of the Bishop of Bressanone and those of the Republic of Venice, and a small garrison was stationed there.
Abandoned (around 1800), looted (19th century), bombed (World War I), collapsed, the castle was restored without opting for reconstruction, which is why there are metal structures allowing you to move around the ruins, especially to go from one level to another. Here’s a room that served as the living quarters for the Captain commanding the garrison.
You can even climb up to a glass terrace at the level of the former granary, offering a great view of the nearest massifs (Averau-Nuvolau, Sasso di Stria, Lagazuoi).
Below is a view of the castle from the entrance/exit; you can see the glass terrace and what remains of the north-side structures. It’s no surprise there were so many "restructurings" over time, nor that a large part of the castle collapsed.
I head back up to "Passo Falzarego"; I’ve planned a short hike for the second half of the afternoon.
Parking at the pass is paid (at least one large lot) or free on the roadside with a somewhat chaotic vehicle arrangement. I park 500 meters from the pass in the direction of Cortina. The paid parking operates with the day divided into two time slots (daytime, nighttime), with a flat rate for each slot (no hourly rate within a slot).
I planned to go to Valparola Pass and then to Lake Valparola. The route can be done by road, but this road is closed (construction) on the descent toward San Cassiano, after the lake. As a result, traffic is very light since it’s a dead end during the works. So, I’ll walk the outbound trip along the road and return via the trail that runs through the valley below the road.
The Lagazuoi seen from a different angle than the first photo of the day.
Afternoon is the best time to have the sun well-positioned when you’re at the foot of Lagazuoi.
80 meters of elevation gain over 2 km isn’t too difficult to reach Valparola Pass. Shortly after starting the descent, you arrive at an old fort (Great War Museum) and the small Lake Valparola.
Beyond the lake, there’s a refuge and, further on, the entire Varella massif, part of the Fanes group.
I return to Passo Falzarego via the "Sentiero Italia" (here, trail 424). It runs through the valley between Lagazuoi and Sass di Stria. It’s now in the shade, so it’s better to hike it a little earlier in the afternoon. You can see "Passo Falzarego" and, in the background, the rocky block of Averau dominating the scene.
That’s all I could identify when I took the photo. I’ll be spending the week in Cortina d’Ampezzo and doing four iconic hikes in the area. This lets me identify, in hindsight:
- In the far background, to the extreme left, the "Cinque Torri"
- In the center, way in the back, a jagged ridge, the "Croda da Lago" massif.
Back at Falzarego Pass, I return to Cortina d’Ampezzo. It’s the same road as on the way there, but in the opposite direction, so the landscapes look different. In the lower part of the descent, after Pocol, there’s a viewpoint by the road: a view of Cortina d’Ampezzo and the Cristallo massif, bathed in late-afternoon sun.
I decided last night to head to the "Tre Cime di Lavaredo" to start with THE hike in the Dolomites.
This hike starts from the Auronzo hut (2,330 meters), located at the end of an access road that begins in Misurina (1,750 meters). It’s extremely well-known and notorious for being overcrowded, regardless of its appeal in terms of mountain scenery. I was expecting a particular vibe, which started with the approach logistics. The access road has been toll-based for several years (with plenty of parking near the hut).
This year, it’s mandatory to book your vehicle’s passage online; the website assigns a time slot during which you must arrive at the toll barrier. The toll fee is set at 40 euro (no typo there).
I ruled out the toll road and opted for another solution: parking at the base of the climb and taking a shuttle round-trip to the Auronzo hut, based on info suggesting shuttles run every half-hour.
Another option is taking the bus round-trip from Cortina d’Ampezzo to the Auronzo hut. I didn’t look into this, so I don’t know the schedules or fares.
That was the situation when I left Cortina d’Ampezzo and took the road to "Passo Tre Croci." At the top of the pass, I headed down the east side, then took a left onto a road that quickly (about 2 km) leads to Lake Misurina.
Right away, I noticed that parking is paid everywhere in Misurina, and any space that might allow free parking is formally and/or physically blocked off (barriers, chains).
I headed toward the access road, at the base of which are the shuttle departure point and a large parking lot (for cars and RVs).
Along the way, an LED sign displayed "sold out" (referring to the access road). New arrivals wouldn’t rush to their smartphones to book a last-minute passage. Italians wouldn’t get the privilege of seeing this info in their own language, as the display stayed stuck on "sold out."
I arrived at the "parking-shuttle" area, where they’d just put up a barrier because the lot was full. About 100 people were queuing for a shuttle, and the attendant at a checkpoint made me turn around (they weren’t letting vehicles onto the toll road).
I went back to the nearest parking lot in Misurina, parked, and headed to the payment terminal. The accepted payment methods were coins and contactless bank cards. The daily rate (until 6 PM) was either 12 or 14 euro—I can’t remember which. Everything went wrong: I didn’t have enough coins, and my bank card doesn’t work contactless (a personal security choice). If I parked without paying for the full day, I was sure to get a fine. The day was ruined.
I left the area toward Dobbiaco, and—miracle!—a van pulled out of a small roadside spot (accessible since there was no chain), and I took its place. The neighbors in the next van were having breakfast in the sun; they’d been there for two days and hadn’t been bothered. The hike could finally begin.
I walked to the shuttle departure point (not far), where about 150 people were now in line (it was 9 AM). I decided to hike up to the Auronzo hut on foot.
The first stop was Lake Antorno, with the "Tre Cime" massif in the background. From here (and during all the open sections of the climb outside the forest), you can see the west peak (left) and the great peak (right), but not the small peak (further east).
A little higher up, the trail veers off the road and runs alongside a Dolomite group, the "Cadini di Misurina." I had a GPX track from Lake Antorno, but it wasn’t necessary—the signage was excellent.
Needles in the "Cadini di Misurina."
The trail crosses the access road, and you get closer to the hut, which is now visible. The two peaks mentioned (west and great) dominate the view (note the appearance of these south faces). The ascent trail was moderately busy: about ten people passing me or being passed by me during breaks.
About half an hour later, I reached the hut, but visibility was zero—a cloud rising from the Auronzo valley blocked everything. I waited fifteen minutes, but nothing changed, so I decided to start the loop around the three peaks. I could only see people within 10 meters of me, and there were plenty—it was a real procession on a road wide enough for 4x4s (which use it to supply the huts along the way).
The Santa Maria Ausiliatrice chapel and the "Piano di Lavaredo" were both in the clouds, so I didn’t get the classic photo of the three peaks from the "Piano di Lavaredo."
The cloud lifted all at once just before the Lavaredo hut, revealing the Monte Paterno massif in the background. The Tre Cime massif was still shrouded in clouds at that point.
Some of the procession participants turned back here.
I waited near the hut for the cloud covering the Tre Cime massif to clear. Gradually, visibility improved.
What you see in the photos above is the small peak ("Piccola Cima") and the secondary summits connected to it (Punta di Frida, Cima Piccolissima). From the Lavaredo hut, that’s the only peak visible.
I continued the loop around the three peaks, climbing to "Forcella Lavaredo," a pass to the right of the previous photo (you can see the trail leading up to it). The landscape changes completely here. You move from the south side (Veneto region) to the north side (Trentino Alto Adige or Süd Tyrol region), revealing the view north of the Tre Cime—and most importantly, you get the full lineup of the "Tre Cime di Lavaredo": Piccola Cima, Cima Grande (2,999 meters), and Cima Ovest.
The "pillars, obelisks, limestone pyramids" aspect defines this north side of the Tre Cime.
There was a real crowd at the pass; many visitors were hesitant, and some turned back. The procession toward the next hut on the classic route (Locatelli hut) thinned out, though we were still on a 4x4 road.
I chose to leave the classic route (and the procession) to take a trail marked on a plateau between the three peaks and the classic route. The picnic break
was along this trail, about fifteen minutes from the pass.
To the north, the Locatelli hut sits at the foot of a spur (Torre di Toblin), with the "Tre Scarperi" massif in the background.
To the northwest, the Dolomiti di Sesto group (which includes the Three Peaks) offers other summits: in the foreground, the isolated "Torre dei Scarperi"; further away, the southeast face in the shadow of a cloud, the "Croda dei Rondoi".
The entire circuit I’m covering today and all the mountains in the photos are part of Group 5 (Northern Dolomites), a UNESCO World Heritage site.
North of the plateau, two of the Three Peaks: Cima Grande and Cima Ovest.
I continue along this trail toward "Malga Langalm". Behind me lies the Monte Paterno massif, with its characteristic Dolomite formations.
As I advance across the plateau, the Three Peaks come into view just before reaching "Malga Langalm".
At "Malga Langalm", I reconnect with the classic route (longer and farther from the Three Peaks) coming from the Locatelli hut. Many people turned back at the hut, so the final stretch of the Three Peaks loop is much less crowded—though it’s still busy, it no longer feels like a procession.
The trail keeps climbing as it circles the peaks.
Continuing this way, you reach a spot where the "Tre Cime di Lavaredo" line up perfectly, with Cima Ovest in the foreground. It’s a bit like the counterpart to Forcella Lavaredo but on the west side of the massif.
After a stretch across scree, I quickly reach the pass (Forcella di Mezzo), which leads to the southern side. The trail descends gently back to the Auronzo hut. You arrive at the hut by skirting the parking lot, giving you a sense of its massive size. There’s even a spot where half a dozen 50-seat coaches park—tour operators bring entire busloads of visitors here!
I take a break to look down at the valley where the morning mist rose and enveloped everything.
It’s the Val Marzòn, at the end of which you can see Lake Santa Caterina and the town of Auronzo di Cadore.
All that’s left is to descend from the hut to Misurina. I take my time, glancing back now and then to admire the south face of Cima Grande (zoomed-in photo) and compare it to the north side.
Back at the car between 5:15 and 5:30 PM. Ascent to the hut: 2 hours (same for the descent). Loop around the "Tre Cime di Lavaredo": 4 hours. In terms of elevation: 2350–1750 = 600 meters of ascent to the Auronzo hut, and the same descent; 260 meters of ascent for the Three Peaks loop, and the same descent since it’s a circuit.
This is an exceptional, unforgettable hike. The conditions under which it can (or can’t) be done call for a few observations:
1 - The option I took (doing everything on foot from the valley) applies to only a tiny fraction of visitors or hikers. It’s negligible in terms of foot traffic. Plus, I only "chose" it "by default"—I didn’t want to wait for the 3rd or 4th shuttle (one every 30 minutes, a rhythm confirmed by hikers I met in the afternoon).
2 - The access managers (I think it’s the municipality of Auronzo di Cadore, but this needs verifying) may have been overwhelmed in the past, but they’re not anymore this year. They now almost fully control the number of people on-site. They decide how many cars and shuttles are allowed per day (and possibly, to some extent, how many buses come from Cortina or Dobbiaco).
They set prices to steer traffic. If you’re a group of 3 or more, driving up is the better deal (40 €). If you’re alone or a pair, parking at the bottom (12 or 14 €) and taking the shuttle (10 € per person) makes more sense.
At most, they might misjudge the average number of passengers per car or how many shuttles won’t be full (especially from late morning or early afternoon onward). Either way, they know and control the maximum number of people who can be at the "Tre Cime" site in a day.
3 - Given point 2, I think today’s crowds (mid-September, so quite late in the season) were similar to those in July or August: all car passes sold out, long lines for shuttles (unless the shuttle frequency was reduced compared to peak season). The turnout is massive—too massive for my taste.
4 - The principle of making mountain access paid through all sorts of tolls is really unpleasant (a mild way to put it).
5 - The prices, which are very high (another understatement), are worrying for the future. If the manager’s priority weren’t maximizing revenue, they could charge less. Since they control the flow (number of cars, shuttles), lower prices wouldn’t affect overcrowding. That’s clearly not their choice, so I fear prices will keep rising in the coming years as long as this hike "sells out."
This will be a transition day; the weather isn’t great for a full-day hike. It’s overcast in the morning, then there’s a solid hour of heavy rain (pouring down). Everything clears up around 10:30 AM, so I head out to visit Cortina d’Ampezzo.
Parking is paid almost everywhere; there’s only one free parking lot (via dello stadio) open, and of course, it’s not enough. A second free parking lot exists, but it’s being used to store construction equipment (preparations for the Olympic Games).
The sun comes back with a blue sky and pleasant temperature, so I stroll around the center and visit the modern art museum (I bought a ticket for all three museums in Cortina d’Ampezzo).
This museum features 20th-century Italian painters, a beautiful collection of paintings put together by a collector from Cortina who personally knew many of these artists. One work to remember: *La Zolfara* (*The Sulfur Mine*) by Renato Guttuso.
No photos—I forgot to bring my camera.
In the afternoon, I take a short hike near Castello di Botestagno, 5 km north of Cortina toward Dobbiaco. This medieval castle, or what little remains of it, sits above the confluence of two streams: *torrente Boite* (which flows toward Cortina) and *torrente Felizon*, a tributary of the former.
To get there, I take a small road to the left of the SS51 after the hamlet of Fiames; it leads to the information point of the *Parco delle Dolomiti d’Ampezzo*, where I park (free parking). A loop trail goes up to the top of the rock, the site of the former fortress.
The uphill trail stays close to the gorge carved by *torrente Felizon*. It goes as far as the old railway bridge over the stream and continues to the summit. There are still foundations, uncovered during recent excavations, but nothing above ground.
However, the view overlooks the stream’s gorge with the railway bridge mentioned above. The old railway line has been replaced by the Dobbiaco–Cortina d’Ampezzo bike path.
Toward Cortina, it’s the *torrente Boite* valley, with a powerful flow swollen by this morning’s rain.
The return takes a forest road that runs alongside the main road. About a hundred meters before the end of the loop, you cross *torrente Felizon* at the gorge’s exit.
This hike takes about 1.5 hours (from memory, very approximate since I didn’t take notes).
The elevation gain is 180 meters up and the same down (it’s a loop).
Afterward, I visit the paleontology museum in Cortina d’Ampezzo, born from the passion of an amateur (Rinaldo Zardini) and the incredible fossil wealth of the Dolomites.
Here’s a fossil piece of *(Neo) Megalodon*, a species that went extinct 3.5 million years ago (known as the largest shark to ever exist). But what part of the body is this? Mostly Megalodon teeth have been found, but while the shape is intriguing, the massive size of the pieces in this museum doesn’t match the size of teeth found elsewhere. So, is it a tooth, a vertebra, or part of the skull? I don’t know and couldn’t find anything online to clarify.
Back at the campsite with high spirits for the coming days (the weather forecast is perfect).
Looking at these photos, I regret not going to the Dolomites when I had the health for it! Now I can mostly do nearly flat terrain and downhill walks. In Switzerland, I know some amazing hikes near Interlaken—you take a train and then a cable car up to altitude, then hike back down on the trails. I’ll check if something like that exists in the Dolomites.
Hi Noëlle,
I’ve added the elevation gains (D+ and D-) for each hike (unless I forgot any).
I think it’s more precise than just saying how it *feels* (easy or hard).
In the Dolomites, there are ski lifts that run in the summer;
you’ll need to check if they serve hikes that might work for you.
The next hike (the "Cinque Torri" – the five towers) is accessible via a chairlift that takes you close to the site. Getting around the site itself, though, isn’t flat at all: the trails go up and down quite a bit.
It’s the start of a period of gorgeous weather: bright sunshine, warmth at altitude making it perfect for hiking in a T-shirt. I want to do three more well-known hikes around Cortina d’Ampezzo. Today, the "Cinque Torri" (the Five Towers).
I climb part of the Falzarego Pass until I reach a left-hand road that leads, after a few hundred meters, to a large free parking lot at the start of the "Cinque Torri" chairlift (you can’t miss it). We’re at the spot called "Bai de Dones." Since I’m here to hike, I skip the chairlift and take the classic clockwise route.
The ascent trail is trail 425; the path starts off fairly flat, then begins to climb until it meets a road (gravel or paved—I can’t remember which) leading to the "Cinque Torri" refuge. There are a few rare views of the "Tofana di Rozes" since the trail and then the road are set in the forest.
The trail leaves the road to turn right with a sign for "Trincee" (trenches). Shortly after, we reach the upper edge of the forest, and the climb continues through a trench.
I quickly arrive at the foot of a tower. I should say I’m at the foot of two of the five towers: "Torre Grande" and, in the foreground, "Torre Barancio."
From this point on, I’m in the "Cinque Torri" area. In theory, there are two trails: the "giro delle torri" (tower loop) and the "sentiero delle trincee" (trench trail), but it’s a maze of paths winding through a labyrinth of towers. I navigate by instinct to cross the area and pass at the foot of many towers (way more than five).
I’ll identify this tower a bit later.
Here’s the same view from another angle.
After crossing a good part of the area, I reach a spot where the name "Cinque Torri" (five towers) finally makes sense.
The identification, in hindsight (since it’s trickier on-site), can begin. On the left, "torre inglese," the English Tower. Then, moving to the right, two towers with flat tops—horizontal for the taller one, slanted for the shorter one: "torre quarta" alta and bassa. In the background, behind the shorter one, "torre Barancio." On the right, in the foreground, "torre romana," and in the background, partially visible, "torre grande." I’ll have to identify them without revisiting the photos later... when they’re actually five.
There are way more than five towers in the area: some aren’t named (or I didn’t find the names), while others "multiply," like "torre Barancio," which is made up of three connected towers.
The tower I mentioned identifying earlier (photos 4 and 5) is the English Tower.
You can also see the more or less distant massifs.
The Sorapiss (left) and the Antelao (right) are east of the Cortina valley.
The "Tofane" behind the English Tower. Tofana di Rozes and, in the background, Tofana di Mezzo.
I’m near the Scoiattoli refuge (at the top of the chairlift) and I’m going to take a closer look at the *Torre Grande*. I’m descending via a narrow path, then along the paved road I took this morning for part of the climb, down to the *Cinque Torri* refuge. I head back up the same way, observing the *Torre Grande* (photo taken near the refuge; on the right, *Torre Barancio*).
I walk around the *Torre Grande* until I reach the base of the tower on the west side.
I then wander around the site a bit; if you have some time to spare (which you will if you’ve set aside the whole day for this hike), you can find different angles for the same towers (here, *Torre Quarta* alta and bassa, to compare with the wider view above).
*Torre Quarta* alta and bassa again.
*Torre Quarta* alta, this time on its own.
And to wrap up this wander among the towers, *Torre Inglese* with the sun lighting up the west face.
In my photo selection, I didn’t focus on the World War I remnants. This spot was a lookout over the front line just a few kilometers away: on the Lagazuoi slope to the right (Austrians at the top, Italians at the bottom), near the Falzarego Pass, and on the Sass de Stria slope to the left. You’ll find plenty of structures here (firing positions, shelters, artillery platforms, etc.).
Here are the “Cinque Torri” again, photographed at the edge of the site. The identification I gave earlier should work for the photo below. “Inglese, quarta, barancio, romana, grande” from left to right.
Here they are, from farther away, at the top of the chairlift. “Inglese, quarta, romana, barancio, grande” from left to right.
At the start of the return path (trail 440), I have Monte Averau in front of me. But the trail doesn’t climb; it veers to the right, at the boundary between the grass and the scree. That’s where the descent begins.
I recommend this trail in the afternoon because the sun’s position gives ideal lighting on the “Cinque Torri” (that’s why I did the loop clockwise), and you get to enjoy it during the first half of the descent.
The descent continues through the forest to near the Falzarego road. You get a different view of Lagazuoi (on the left) and “Monte Falzarego” (on the right). Near this spot, you need to take trail 424 to return to Bai de Dones.
This is a hike that’s well worth the trip, especially for the multiple ways to move around among the towers. The moderate elevation gain (415 meters up, the same down) makes it an easy day hike and leaves time to explore the site.
I actually did more elevation gain than the 415 meters shown on the GPX track I had; detailed exploration of the site adds quite a bit more.
I’m continuing with the iconic hikes around Cortina d’Ampezzo, this time at Lake Sorapis.
I’m not taking the classic route from “Passo Tre Croci.” Since I’m prone to vertigo, I’ve read that this route isn’t recommended for people like me. That kind of info is always a bit iffy—I would’ve loved to see the vertigo-inducing section for myself to judge if it was too tough. But it’s too far from the start to scout it out.
So, I’m taking another path, said to be physically harder and much less crowded than the usual route.
From Cortina, I head up to “Passo Tre Croci,” descend the east side of the pass, leave the Misurina road, and take the SR48 toward Auronzo di Cadore. I stop 500 meters after 4 steep switchbacks, near a hotel called “Cristallo.”
Parking is possible along the roadside. The spot is called Valbona, I think—there’s a small road to the right that crosses the Ansiei stream after 50 meters, but you can’t take it because it’s blocked right after the bridge.
The hike starts in a bucolic setting between meadows and forest.
It’s flat, even slightly downhill, until a spot called Sopis, where the climb begins. Easy at first, it gets steep quickly and stays that way almost all the way to Lake Sorapis. This corresponds to a big rock face where you have to gain the elevation (waterfall, gorge). Even though this section is in the shade (mid-September), I’m sweating a lot: 550 meters of elevation gain in one go on a steep trail.
I met about ten people on the trail—everyone hiking at their own pace, except for two who were really poorly equipped and had set off without water!! They sounded Slavic and started asking if the lake was still far away.
At the lake, everything was as expected: the stunning setting, the water’s color, and the crowd. At a rough guess, there were quite a few people spread around the shore (hard to count), with a high concentration at the point where the trail reaches the lake—close to fifty, I’d say. Clearly, nine out of ten came via the classic trail, which must be really busy (though nothing like the “Tre Cime di Lavaredo”).
The spot also offers a view of the Tre Cime di Lavaredo (see my post from the day before yesterday)—well, two out of three: Cima Ovest (left) and Cima Grande (right).
I move a little to the left to get a higher view of the lake.
It should be possible to climb up the valley on the other side of the lake to get deeper into the Sorapis massif and closer to the glacier that gives the lake its turquoise color. I won’t be doing that, though.
The lake is dominated by a nearby peak called “the Finger of God.”
Now, I’m going to walk around the lake (clockwise). The first part climbs on poorly marked paths—you sometimes wonder if there’s even a trail.
The height above the water and the sun’s position make the lake’s color even more intense.
Walking around the lake, I come to a spot where an amazing peak lines up perfectly with it.
Wow! And after some research, this turns out to be Ra Zesta, also called La Cesta (2,768 meters), probably because of the shape of the rocky folds.
The highest point on the steep trail around the lake offers a panoramic view of it (it’s about 300 meters at its longest). You can also see where people tend to gather: the north shore, near where the trails arrive.
This is also the spot where you feel most like you’re under the “finger of God.” Behind this peak, you can make out the group where the highest point of the massif is: Monte Sorapis (3,205 meters).
The paths carved into this area let you descend back to the lake’s edge, in a quieter section on the southeast side (steep). It’s a decent spot for a picnic.
After the picnic, I finish crossing the steep passage (you have to climb up and then down again). The rest of the loop is flat and brings you back near the refuge and where the trails start.
I make it back to Valbona without any issues. The trail is steep, so you’ve got to be careful on the descent, but it’s way less exhausting than the climb. Elevation gain/loss for the hike: 550 meters up and down.
The weather’s great—warm—and since it’s not too late, I have time to visit the ethnographic museum once I’m back in Cortina d’Ampezzo.
With the weather still so nice, there must be stunning sunsets in the mountains. I’ll settle for photographing the Sorapis massif from the campsite (Cortina). It’s past 6:30 PM, and I think I could’ve waited a little longer.
Today, another hike among the most famous around Cortina d’Ampezzo: Croda da Lago. It’s a massif peaking at 2,715 meters, home to a lake very different from Lake Sorapis. I’ll be doing the loop clockwise for lighting reasons.
To get to the starting point, I take the same route as for "Passo Falzarego"; in the village of Pocol, I turn left toward "Passo Giau." After 4 km on this road, I park by the side of the road: the trail starts here (a spot called "Ponte di Rucurto").
Route: trail 437 to the Cason del Formin junction, trail 434 to Lake Federa and then to "forcella Ambrizzola," trail 435 to "forcella Formin" and back to the Cason del Formin junction, then trail 437 to return to the starting point.
The hike begins with an easy climb through the forest; past the Cason del Formin junction, after a good climb, you reach a viewpoint offering an expansive panorama.
I start with a recap of the day before yesterday, with a view of the "Cinque Torri." You get a view of the site from the east or southeast, with Torre Grande and Torre Barancio. The two refuges are also clearly visible: Rifugio Scoiattoli on the ridge at the top of the chairlift (on the hidden side), and Rifugio Cinque Torri below Torre Grande, accessible via the road coming from the right.
The "Tofane" (Tofana di Rozes and Tofana di Mezzo) dominate the area around Cortina d’Ampezzo.
The town of Cortina d’Ampezzo, as you can see, isn’t in a narrow valley but in a cheerful, relatively wide one, even though it’s overshadowed by peaks reaching 3,200 meters (the Tofane in the previous photo and the Cristallo massif here).
Zooming in, you can also spot the "Tre Cime di Lavaredo" (Cima Ovest and Cima Grande) in the distance but still easily identifiable; this viewpoint is the best I’ve found over the Cortina d’Ampezzo valley.
For many hikers, the goal is Lake Federa (Lago di Federa) and the nearby Rifugio Palmieri. The lake, with Becco di Mezzodì in the background, is one of the well-known spots around Cortina. I’ll continue the hike this afternoon by climbing to "forcella Ambrizzola," the pass visible to the right of Becco di Mezzodì.
For now, though, I’ll walk around the lake and have a picnic. Lake Federa offers a very different setting from Lake Sorapis: the atmosphere is much more pastoral. Aquatic vegetation is abundant near the shores (almost nonexistent at Lake Sorapis).
On the ascent to Forcella Ambrizzola, the trail is always in my field of vision, gradually climbing the flank of the Croda da Lago massif. At the pass (2,277 meters), I’m at the foot of the Becco di Mezzodi. The face toward the lake is north-facing and therefore almost never sees the sun (only a little at the summer solstice).
Since it’s a pass, the landscape opens up to other slopes and peaks. I spot the Marmolada again—the summit and the glacier, the glacial tongue located below the cable of the upper section of the cable car.
If I look back at the slope I climbed, I see the ascent path, the lake (way down to the right), and the highest point of the Croda da Lago massif, Cima Ambrizzola (2,715 meters).
From here on, I cross to the west side of the massif and begin the return trip, but the climb isn’t over yet because the trail heads toward a second pass (higher than Forcella Ambrizzola) called Forcella Formin (2,462 meters). Exceptional panorama: the first pass on the left is Forcella Rossa; Forcella Ambrizzola (where I came from) is farther away, in the rocky area at the foot of the Becco di Mezzodi.
Near the pass, there’s a plateau—a true inclined plane—with scraped limestone outcrops, a landscape very different from the usual spires in the Dolomites: this is the Formin plateau. In the distance, the Nuvolau, Averau, and Lagazuoi massifs.
The walls and characteristic spires of the Dolomites are very close in the Croda da Lago massif; they tower over the entire descent trail that remains to be covered, and this massif (Croda da Lago) is one of the most remarkable for this type of formation. Here’s a wall quite close to the summit.
I begin the descent into the Formin valley—a long, not very easy section through a chaos of boulders of all sizes created by rockfalls. You have to be careful not to lose the trail; luckily, the markings (paint on the rocks) are well done.
Throughout this descent, the sun shines on the ridge of the massif, which looks like real lacework. The light is perfect, and everything is seen with incredible clarity.
In the massif, north of Cima Ambrizzola (the highest point), there’s a whole alignment of needles stretching for several kilometers. The trail runs alongside this alignment, staying roughly at the bottom of the Formin valley.
Since the trail hasn’t yet entered the forest (you have to descend further to reach the forest level), I’m walking through rocky chaos (scree and larger boulders), with nothing but jagged walls above me.
The same kind of landscape continues when I enter the forest (larches) that occupies the lower part of the valley.
I meet up with the outbound route at the Cason del Formin junction. From there, it’s the return trip to the road. A magnificent hike and a perfect day to do it. Moderate foot traffic on the outbound route (heavy around the lake) and light on the return from forcella Ambrizzola (except for the final stretch after Cason del Formin—it was the time most people were heading back). It’s already September 19, which might explain that.
Elevation info: Ascent and descent are roughly 900 meters each. The passage under the Croda da Lago massif in the Formin valley is spectacular (photos above). I really want to emphasize that the ideal time is in the afternoon (or even the second half of the afternoon), with the sun—preferably. I had these perfect conditions.
A quick note on the Dolomites groups listed as UNESCO World Heritage sites.
There are 9 groups (which can vary greatly in size—some large, some small). I’ve explored 3 of them:
Group 2: Marmolada (Day 5)
Group 5: Northern Dolomites, one of the most extensive (Day 12 Tre Cime di Lavaredo and Day 15 Lake Sorapis)
Group 1: Pelmo Croda da Lago (Day 16 Croda da Lago)
The others are farther from Cortina d’Ampezzo.
The area around Cortina d’Ampezzo is packed with possibilities, each more interesting than the last. I deliberately didn’t try to be original in my choices because I wanted to do these well-known hikes.
If I’d stayed in Cortina longer, I would’ve continued the *Sentiero Italia* route for a few more stages from Pralongia (where I stopped), with a priority on the "Lagazuoi, forcella Travenanzes, and val Travenanzes" section.
I still have to prepare for my departure tomorrow morning.
Hi Marie,
I admit I have a soft spot for that last hike (Croda da Lago) because of the variety of landscapes—lake, pass, distant peaks, and the spires of the Croda da Lago massif. It’s on this hike that I took the most photos.
We’re really at the top of what you can find in terms of hiking here.
I’ll take your post as an opportunity to share a bit more about the turquoise color of Lake Sorapis (from the previous hike). I read that it’s caused by "glacial flour," tiny particles scraped from the rock by the Sorapis glacier (friction of the ice against the ground). These particles are carried into the lake in summer when higher temperatures cause significant glacial melt.
The lake has no outflow; its level fluctuates based on losses (evaporation, seepage) and inputs (snowmelt, glacial melt), which peak in spring and summer. I read that it drops noticeably in autumn when lower temperatures reduce and eventually stop the glacial melt.
All of this is temporary, though—the Sorapis glacier is small, and its lifespan is limited due to climate change.
Today, I’m leaving (a little) the Dolomites—or at least the Dolomites around Cortina d’Ampezzo. I’m also setting aside hiking for the rest of the trip. I’m heading to Belluno (Belluno is in the Dolomites) to spend two days in and around this city (the provincial capital of the Dolomites in Veneto).
But before I leave, and especially before the sun gets too high, I’m going to photograph Becco di Mezzodì (see yesterday) from the area near the campsite, a view at the very start of the morning.
Belluno sits on a spur near a bend in the Piave River. On this stretch of the Piave, the Dolomites rise up to 2,500 meters on the right bank, while the Prealps reach 1,600 meters on the left bank. So, it’s still mountainous here, even though Belluno itself is only 400 meters above sea level.
The campsite is in the Prealps near Monte Nevegal. Since it’s just a short drive, I’ll settle in, grab a bite, and head down to Belluno to explore the city in the afternoon.
To give you an idea of Belluno’s setting, here’s a shot of an outlying neighborhood with the Dolomites in the background (photo taken from a viewpoint in the city center).
You enter the historic city through the *Porta Dante* and immediately arrive at *Piazza Duomo*. On the north side of the square, the Palazzo dei Rettori (Palace of the Venetian Podestà) is a Renaissance building with an arched portico on the ground floor and a loggia on the upper levels. In my opinion, it’s the most beautiful building on the square—it was mostly built in the 16th century and now houses the prefecture. In the background to the right, the Torre Civica (Civic Tower) is older in origin but has undergone several partial reconstructions. Throughout this part of the city (*Piazza dei Martiri*, *Piazza Duomo*), it’s Association Day today, mainly for sports groups. There are lots of people—parents, kids, teens—getting information, and some are even trying out activities where possible (mini volleyball or basketball courts, for example).
Next, I wander through some of the oldest streets in the city. This is where Roman Belluno once stood.
This neighborhood, with its narrow streets, centers around *Piazza delle Erbe* (or *Piazza Mercato*—Market Square), where you’ll find the city’s oldest fountain: Fontana di San Lucano (1409). Almost the entire square is surrounded by arcades and palazzi from the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries (Gothic and, especially, Renaissance styles). This one (possibly the former Mount of Piety) is decorated with the coats of arms of former Venetian podestà.
*Piazza Duomo* symbolizes political and religious power, while *Piazza Mercato* was the hub of business (artisans, merchants) during the Venetian period.
I head to the municipal museum, housed in an 18th-century palace: the beautifully restored Palazzo Fulcis. It’s spacious, with an engaging layout for this art museum, which opened in 2017 (after restoration work).
But before going in, the wall of the neighboring pharmacy (Farmacia Perale) features a medallion of Garibaldi—a patriotic touch for an old pharmacy, given the style of the building it’s in.
Some rooms, like this salon, reflect the 18th-century palace’s grandeur. A room with an alcove and another with double-height ceilings serve the same purpose.
The collections span the modern era (from the Renaissance onward), but I was particularly drawn to the 18th and 19th centuries.
The museum’s masterpiece is Sebastiano Ricci’s *The Fall of Phaeton* (1704), a striking painting that captures the sensation of falling (the void, the lack of a landing point). Many artists have tackled this myth.
A quick recap of the myth: Phaeton borrowed his father Helios’ (the Sun God) chariot, lost control, and flew too close to Earth, scorching it. To "stop the damage," Zeus struck him down with a thunderbolt.
From the 19th century, Ippolito Caffi (a native of Belluno, 1809–1866, and a patriot) was a renowned landscape painter—but not *just* a landscape painter. Here’s his *Snow in Venice* (1841).
Andrea Brustolon (1662–1732), also from Belluno, was a Baroque wood sculptor who created religious works and furniture for private clients (two distinct lines of work). Here’s a *Crucifixion*—not the one in the museum, but the one in the church of Santo Stefano, north of the city center. I preferred this one for its expressiveness.
Back at the campsite with weather that’s still glorious and temperatures high for an altitude of around 1,000 meters.
I’m dedicating this beautiful, warm day to the Piave River valley, downstream from Belluno. I head down to Belluno, cross to the right bank of the Piave, and take the road toward Sedico.
I visit my first example of a villa in Veneto—I’ll get to see other (much more famous) villas later in the trip. These villas have two parts: a patrician house, often a summer residence for a wealthy family, and a set of agricultural buildings for managing the estate. Both functions are integrated into a single architectural complex.
This is the Villa Patt de Manzoni in Sedico, built in the 19th century (architect Giuseppe Jappelli).
Here’s the façade of the “noble” section, with typical features: neoclassical style, a projecting section with giant pilasters, and a triangular pediment above.
N.B. I kept the text I wrote for my drive; it references the rest of the trip (which I’m not posting here) and Palladian villas. The architect of this villa was clearly inspired by Andrea Palladio.
Next, I head to the parish church. It’s Sunday, so I wait for Mass to end before going in. This 20th-century church, built in Romanesque style, houses a work by the Vecellio brothers. These painters are from the region—born in Pieve di Cadore in the Piave Valley upstream from Belluno. But who are they? The most famous is Tiziano (Titian), and his brother is Francesco.
A “Madonna and Child with Musical Angels” is the central panel of a damaged polyptych (all that remains of it).
Afterward, I make a detour into the Dolomites, specifically the Belluno Dolomites National Park (Dolomiti Bellunesi). Near Mis, a small dam created a narrow, elongated artificial lake in the “Valle del Mis” (the river’s name).
A little farther on, a picnic area (set up by the park) by the lake is perfect for lunch. On my way back, I drive to the end of the lake, where two curiosities await: the “Cadini del Brenton” and the “Cascata della Soffia.” But first, here’s what the Dolomites look like in this part of the range. We’re at about 400 meters in elevation, with peaks either just below or just above 2,000 meters, giving a totally different feel from the area around Cortina d’Ampezzo.
This part of the Dolomites is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site—Group 3: Pale di San Martino San Lucano - Dolomiti Bellunesi - Vette Feltrine. When you read that long name and look at the corresponding map, you realize this “group” is actually a patchwork of barely connected areas.
After lunch, I drive to the end of the lake and park. A 100-meter walk away, the “Cadini del Brenton” are a series of basins separated by small waterfalls, carved by the Brenton stream—what we call “giant’s kettles” in English. Entry is paid, but not for me since I’m too old. The welcome was very friendly.
A short walk away is a waterfall (Cascata della Soffia, named after the stream). You can access the upper level via a footbridge. There’s also a way to reach the base of the waterfall by navigating a narrow gorge—fun but a bit tricky (unless it’s been improved).
I backtrack (by car) to exit the "Valle del Mis"; I head downstream to find a bridge over the Piave River, then return toward Belluno on the left bank. A sprawling municipality, Borgo Valbelluna, occupies much of this left bank, grouping several villages where I make stops. First up is Lentiai, where the Vecellio family is remembered.
In the Church of Lentiai (Chiesa di Santa Maria Assunta), it wasn’t the Vecellio brothers who worked here, but Tiziano (Titian, one of the brothers), his workshop, and a cousin of Tiziano’s named Cesare.
Cesare Vecellio painted the 20 panels of the immense coffered ceiling in the central nave—scenes from the Virgin Mary’s life based on the Gospels.
At the far end of the nave, in the choir, you can see a large polyptych with white-framed panels: the Assumption Polyptych. While most of it was done by Titian’s workshop, the masters themselves painted certain panels—the Dead Christ (top) by Cesare, and an unidentified bishop by Titian. This altarpiece is tricky to photograph (due to the altar and reflections).
Next, I head to Mel, the most important of the villages making up Borgo Valbelluna, perched atop a hill overlooking the valley. At the center of the town, a large square surrounded by *palazzi* from different centuries of the Venetian period—quite surprising for a village (this isn’t a city).
The palazzo at the far right in the photo above has real grandeur—it’s the former Zorzi Counts’ palace (from the 16th century), now the "Palazzo della Magnifica Comunità di Mel," or in modern terms, the town hall (I couldn’t visit; it was closed when I passed by).
The wide shot of the square is taken from the church parvis, which sits at the highest point of the square. This church is neoclassical in style, built in the mid-18th century, and imposing without being bulky.
Back at the Nevegal campsite; the weather, still hot, clouds over by late afternoon with a stormy feel, hinting at a change ahead.
This journal entry wraps up my route through the Dolomites.
The other part of the trip (not yet published) covers:
- First, the strip of hills between the plain (to the south) and the Prealps (to the north), with forays into both. I traveled from Vittorio Veneto (east) to Marostica (west); I couldn’t find a precise name for this region, which spans multiple administrative provinces. A music festival held there billed itself as the "pedemontana" festival—I’ll use that term, translating it as "foothills," and I’d call this little area the Venetian foothills.
- Then, the city of Vicenza and its immediate surroundings.
The focus of this part of the trip is cultural, in contrast to the "hiking" focus of the Dolomites section.
I’ll add a post with some maps to help readers unfamiliar with the Venetian Dolomites get their bearings.
Nous avons choisi comme destination pour cette semaine des vacances de la Toussaint le nord-est de l’Italie. Notre projet (Quentin, Hervé et moi) était de…
Sur la face A de l'Italie du Nord, il y aurait forcément Venise, Milan et les Lacs. En ce mois d'août, nous sommes partis découvrir la face B à travers 3…
Carnets de voyage › République Tchèque / Italie · 1 reply
-Jour 1: trajet jusqu'à Haguenau, au nord de Strasbourg -Jour 2: traversée de l'Allemagne, entrée en Rep Tchèque et petite halte à Pilsen, la ville de la bière…
Au mois de février nous avons fait un petit mid-week de Saint-Valentin à Venise, voilà ce que nous y avons découvert... Comme d'habitude, vous trouverez plus…
Après l'Ouest Américain, les Iles Anglo-saxonne, le Vietnam et la Namibie, nous avons jeté notre dévolu sur l'Italie. On pourrait, dit-on, visiter l'Italie…
"So, my little wanderers, back at the decks? What’s this mystery destination you’ve got in store for us at the start of the year?"
Yes, the schoolyard bell’s ringing again! We’re hitting the road... or rather, the skies! At first glance, our destination might surprise more than a few. First off, simply because I was here exactly twenty years ago, and I don’t usually like retracing my own footsteps. Secondly, because the name of this place screams mass tourism—basically the opposite of what Flo and I look for.
Despite that, in this land of backsheesh, I’d promised myself I’d come back one day to experience it my way. And since Flo told me, during our wanderer chats, that this destination straddling Africa and the Middle East was in her top 2 travel dreams, the stars aligned for this roots-style trip to quickly make it onto our pharaonic festivities program! Unless you’re totally clueless in general knowledge, you’ve probably guessed by now—we’re off to Egypt! Of course, a few classics will be on our itinerary, but above all, we want to soak up a culture that can’t be appreciated in four-star resorts or on a Nile cruise boat. And let’s be clear, these next two weeks won’t be a walk in the park—neither for our two daughters who are joining us, nor for our bodies!
And that’s clear from the get-go: after our first flight, eight hours of trying (and failing) to sleep on Milan airport’s metal seats, our second flight, landing, passport stamps, our Uber ride, and our first Cairo kilometers, we finally drop our exhaustion at the little guesthouse we booked in Giza. Doesn’t all that energy deserve a little reward?
Oh, absolutely! And here it is: a full-on slap in the face for everyone! But just look at this view from our hotel terrace? For 20 € a night for four, even with this incredible view, I figured the room must be pretty shabby, right? Nope... Is the staff rude, then? Nope... Okay, so what’s the catch? You’re gonna tell me breakfast is included too? Well, yes! Honestly, this Egypt trip is off to a great start.
And the rest of the afternoon, spent rubbing shoulders with locals, only confirmed this vibe. After digesting our pyramid view, we dove into the hustle and bustle of our neighborhood with the goal of exchanging money, eating at street stalls, and testing the hospitality of the locals. Ten out of ten!
Eight little sun breads with baba ganoush and falafel? 80 pounds, or 1.5 €. A dozen Middle Eastern pastries? Same! 80 pounds! Two hawawshis, those little pita breads stuffed with meat and spices? 10 pounds each, or about twenty cents! Not to mention all those smiles and free "welcomes" left and right!!!
What a welcome! We end this first day with a sunset over the three sisters of Giza—where we’ll obviously be gawking tomorrow...
If I close my eyes and think of the Sultanate of Oman, I first smell a light scent of incense, feel the warmth of a sunbeam on my skin, before sand slips through my fingers. I taste the sweetness of a date, a real candy, then the flavor of coffee with a hint of cardamom and rosewater... I hear the desert wind whistling in my ears, the distant call of a muezzin, then the murmur of water. I open my eyes to see smiles, welcoming gestures, a turquoise sea, rocks ranging from ochre to purple, deep wadis where torrents burst forth, orange dunes, white sandy beaches where tiny crabs scurry at full speed. I see incredible oases emerging between arid mountains. I see abandoned villages that I’d dream were full of life, imposing fortresses overlooking valleys, and lively souks where offers are delicate and negotiation is a mutual courtesy.
All that, and so much more.
This is what I tried to capture in my illustrated travel journal, which I’ll fill in here and there with photos.
I drew this journal “cold,” after my return (actually, I made it this summer, while our trip was last winter). It’s a pretty special format—I bought it in Japan without really knowing what I’d do with it. Well, it found its purpose! Below is a photo of this accordion-style journal: here, it’s only partially open, because when fully unfolded, it’s 5 meters long!
For drawing enthusiasts: The accordion format is both a constraint (each sheet is 9 cm x 27 cm) and a freedom (you can create a fresco). The paper is also a bit special: it doesn’t allow for fine lines, but it takes ink well (liner pen). However, everything has to be done almost in one go (with a very light pencil sketch) because it erases poorly. It absorbs too much water for coloring with markers or watercolors (unless you avoid soaking it), but it works well with oil pastels and their use with a brush and solvent. Since it’s yellowish, it allowed me to create contrasts even with white pastel.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Oman is one of the world’s largest producers of frankincense resin. Incense burners are everywhere, from the simplest clay ones to the most precious handcrafted silver ones...
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
"How about a Christmas market this year, huh? A little romantic weekend getaway...
- Yes! That’d be cool! Strasbourg? Colmar?
- Feels a bit déjà vu, doesn’t it? Plus, slim chance of snow there... And I’d love something a bit more exotic with a touch of originality..."
"Okay, Google, give me the list of the five most beautiful Christmas markets in Europe.
- In fifth place, the Christmas market in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania.
- Save your breath! Lithuania, here we come!"
We wanted cold, and cold is exactly what we got the moment we set foot in this new, unknown land. As for landscapes, forests and lakes stretch as far as the eye can see across this vast plain, its vegetation scorched by the frost of a winter that’s clearly already well underway here.
Lakes, in fact, set the scene for our first visit to Trakai Castle, whose brick-red towers and walls rise proudly against the azure sky of our first day. Lakes, because this castle was built on an island and is only accessible on foot via a series of walkways spanning half-frozen lake offshoots. I couldn’t have picked a better spot to build my castle! Translation: We’re totally sold! Proof is we spend two hours hiking around the area, alternating between forests, reeds, and cozy houses tastefully decorated for Christmas.
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed...
Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.
It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.
We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂
At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe).
In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko.
I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip.
Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest.
The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days.
As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.
Transportation:
An ICOCA card is essential.
I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.
Accommodations:
Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.
Meals:
For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés.
For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen.
Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima.
Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima.
A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto.
Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi).
Tempura and gyoza.
Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal.
One omakase meal (9 different dishes).
In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef.
Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.
The Itinerary:
Day 1: Departure from Brussels
Day 2: Arrival in Osaka
Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki
Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi
Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido
Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima
Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade
Day 8: To Miyajima
Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto
Day 10: Southern Kyoto
Day 11: Northern Kyoto
Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa
Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago)
Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima)
Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto
Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko)
Day 17: To Tokyo
Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura
Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong
Day 20: Arrival in Brussels
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
Hi everyone, we're back from a DIY USA road trip we organized from July 31, 2026, to August 26, 2026.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say.
Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
Here we go!!!
I left home at 4 AM on October 31st and headed to Barcelona. Driving through Barcelona on the ring road stresses me out a bit, but at 6 AM the traffic is smooth, and I arrive at the airport without any issues. I call the valet, who quickly comes to pick up my car. He takes photos of it from all angles before letting me go.
Baggage check-in hasn’t started yet, and there are already several of us waiting.
Once free, everything happens very quickly. The flight to Abu Dhabi is on time and goes smoothly. I’ve never had any problems with this airline, which I’ve been using for several years.
The flight to Bangkok arrives at 7 AM as scheduled. This is my first time in Thailand and Bangkok. I’m used to traveling in India, and I notice that everything here is well organized—the customs process is quick, and the luggage is already on the carousel.
I booked a taxi on Booking. All I have to do is find the right exit and door based on the agency’s instructions. A large sign with the names of people who booked is posted on a wall. A hostess greets me and calls the taxi, which arrives 5 minutes later. I booked one night at the Lost Inn BKK hotel in the Phra Nakhon district, and we arrive at 9 AM. The welcome isn’t warm, and I have to wait until noon, sitting on a chair, before I can check into my room. I’m exhausted, and sleeping sitting up isn’t ideal. Noon finally arrives—the room is small but clean, which is fine for one night. I quickly take a shower to wake up because I plan to spend the afternoon visiting the Grand Palace. First, I need to exchange some money, and the banks are all close together on the same street, which is very convenient. When I enter one, a hostess gives me a ticket and invites me to sit down. There are about twenty counters, and I wait quietly until my number is called. The exchange is quick, so I can head out to find the Royal Palace. It’s actually very easy, and the walk is pleasant.
Entry to the Royal Palace (500 baht).
It’s magnificent and grand, and there are quite a few of us visiting. The sky is gray, it’s very humid, and a shower interrupts the visit. It’s a vast complex of temples and palaces. The buildings are colorful and sparkling, with a great sense of serenity (without the tourists, of course). I quietly enjoy the place and try to take photos without tourists, which isn’t easy.
Very close to the Grand Palace is Wat Pho, one of the oldest Buddhist temples in the capital.
It’s very famous for its 46-meter-long reclining Buddha statue.
Walking around the temple, you can see different representations of Buddha, all covered in gold leaf.
Inside the temple, on one side, monks recite their prayers, while the other side is reserved for tourists who come to meditate in silence.
Before returning to the hotel, I have dinner at an Indian restaurant. I go to bed early because tomorrow’s wake-up call will be very early again.
Saturday, November 2nd
Wake-up at 4 AM, departure from the hotel at 4:30 AM. The taxi I booked via Booking is waiting for me and takes me to the airport. The trip is fairly quick—he takes small roads, and at this hour, there’s no traffic.
The flight to Phnom Penh is on time. Before boarding, I realize I left my fleece jacket on the carousel, but it’s too late to go back for it.
The flight goes well, and customs is quick.
At the exit, I take a tuk-tuk to Julieka’s GH near the museum. The welcome is friendly. I won’t be able to check into my room until noon, so I take the opportunity to exchange some euros on the market street. The street is lined with restaurants, and I’ll have my first meal there.
The museum is right across the street, so I don’t waste any time visiting it.
The representations of Hindu deities are very different from those in India, and I don’t recognize them. Many beautiful Buddhas are on display.
The museum is very pleasant, and there aren’t too many people, which is a plus.
At the exit, I return to the GH, settle into my room—which is decent and clean.
The Royal Palace is 1 km away. I walk along a garden, and at the end of the street is the Tonlé Sap, but I turn right. I arrive at a large esplanade and see the buildings with tiered roofs and glazed tiles. The entrance to the palace is a little further away.
At the entrance, I notice there isn’t the same crowd as at the one in BKK.
Khmer architecture is magnificent. The complex consists of gardens, palaces, pagodas with golden roofs, and slender spires.
The Silver Pagoda houses the small Emerald Buddha, which is actually made of jade. The silver flooring is covered with carpets. Photos are not allowed.
The walls surrounding the pagoda are covered with frescoes depicting scenes from the Ramayana.
My partner and I traveled from Sunday, July 5, 2026, to Wednesday, July 22, 2026.
We spent a long time debating whether to rent a car or use public transportation. In the end, after reading so many posts about travelers getting scammed by police or rental companies—even those recommended by blogs and reviews—we decided to stick with public transport. It worked out really well. Sure, we had a little less freedom to go where we wanted, but it was way less stressful for us.
Sunday, July 5:
Arrived at Cancun Airport. Withdrew cash from the ATM in the terminal just before exiting. The ADO bus counter (they pronounce it "A-Jee-O") is right behind you when you're facing the ATM. Bus to downtown Cancun cost 145 pesos per person.
Stayed at "Rose 5," booked on Booking. The studio was super clean and perfect for one night. The owner’s instructions for accessing the place were very precise, with photos included. Check-in was self-service with a code. The ADO bus terminal isn’t far, and there are shops and restaurants nearby. We really appreciated that the AC was already on when we arrived. By the way, I’d recommend always booking places with AC—it’s *really* hot in Mexico.
Monday, July 6:
Bought a SIM card with data from a TELCEL store. My partner, who’s on Free Mobile, was able to use her regular plan. Just so you know, I found the network pretty unstable. As soon as we left the cities, neither of us—me with TELCEL or her with Free—had any signal.
Another thing to watch out for: roaming charges. I had to turn my SIM back on for less than 30 seconds to get a bank SMS code, and my phone apparently connected to the internet—resulting in an 8-euro roaming fee.
Left on an ADO bus to Chiquila for 278 pesos per person. During our trip, ADO buses were always on time, comfortable, and clean. The AC is *cranked* though, so bring something to cover up with—it gets cold. Some routes were fully booked even in the low season, so try to reserve 1 or 2 days in advance either via the app (when it works) or at the counter.
When we arrived at the ADO terminal in Chiquila, the ferry company counters were right next to it. Ferries leave every 30 minutes, alternating between companies, so no need to book ahead. Just take whichever one is leaving next (330 pesos per person).
When we got to Holbox (pronounced "Hol-bosh"), we’d booked a place via Booking called "Casa de Nana." It was a huge studio with a fridge, cooking plate, and utensils. The best part? The *location*. It was 100 meters from the beach and 200 meters from a Chedraui supermarket. They provided bath towels and beach towels, and the AC worked perfectly. There’s a key box so you can leave your keys inside when you go out. The only downside was that no one was there to let us in when we arrived, so we had to wait a while. The Wi-Fi was good, which was lucky because during our 4-day stay in Holbox, the phone network *never* worked. According to locals, that’s pretty common in Holbox, along with water outages.
Luckily, I’d had the good idea to download an offline map, which helped us find our way back to the place more easily. You can walk there from the dock.
The restaurant next to our place (La Barracuda) was great if you like seafood—I’d recommend their octopus dishes.
Tuesday, July 7:
We did a kayak tour in Holbox’s mangroves at 6 AM. We were looking for a sunrise kayak tour with a French-speaking guide. That’s exactly what we got with "Kayaking Holbox," where Diego, the owner, speaks English and French. He was joined by Gustavo, another guide.
We’d booked for a group tour, but we were the only ones. Diego still went ahead with it instead of canceling due to lack of participants, so we got a private tour at the group rate—really professional of him. They showed us this amazing ecosystem for over 3 hours. We saw all kinds of birds: pink flamingos, pelicans, egrets, frigatebirds... rays, a horseshoe crab, and a little crocodile that was *so* well hidden. Diego and Gustavo have a real eye for spotting animals—I could’ve passed by the crocodile 100 times and never seen it, it blended in so well. Their explanations about the flora and fauna were super interesting. We also got a little break where we tasted mangoes and bananas that taste *nothing* like the ones in France. A real treat—those little Mexican yellow mangoes! I’d definitely recommend Diego and his agency for a French-language kayak tour (1000 pesos per person).
In the evening, we walked to Punta Coco to see the bioluminescence. No need for a guided tour—if you really don’t want to walk, you can take a taxi. At Punta Coco, you have to pass the beach bar/restaurant and then go left into a kind of inlet that forms a lagoon. You have to wiggle your feet or move your hands in the water to create movement, which makes the light appear. Just don’t expect the kind of photos you’ve seen online—they’re all edited! It’s fun to see, but you won’t be dazzled by the light...
Wednesday, July 8:
Whale shark tour with "My Holbox Tours." Why recommend this agency over others for swimming with whale sharks? Simply because Valérie surrounds herself with top professionals to make your experience unforgettable. We were with Captain Fernando, who does everything to position the boat perfectly and make your swim easier. In the water, we were with Humberto, who also goes above and beyond to make sure you have an incredible time. He doesn’t just "supervise" like some guides from other companies who leave you on your own. No, Humberto reads the whale shark’s trajectory and guides you—all you have to do is follow him. He really puts in the effort, even holding your hand to guide you through this quick but intense encounter. Humberto also films the moment and will offer to show you the videos and sell them to you. His footage is really high quality.
Fernando and Humberto also prepared food for us. Special mention for their guacamole! Valérie is there to make sure everything goes smoothly on the boat and to answer your questions in French, English, or Spanish about these animals. If you choose My Holbox Tours, you can be sure you’ll get a top-notch experience.
About the tour itself: before you go, you should know that the sharks can be *really* far away. The day we went, it took 3.5 hours by boat to reach them. The boats are small, and let me tell you—on the way there, when we weren’t going with the waves, it was *rough*. Out of 9 passengers, 4 got seasick. But once you’re face-to-face with the shark, you forget all about that. Even if swimming with a whale shark isn’t exactly a walk in the park—they swim pretty fast, so you need some endurance to keep up. You’ll usually get 2 turns. Our first swim lasted a little over 4 minutes, and the second about 2 minutes because the shark was moving fast and we were still tired from the first swim. It might seem short, but when you’re swimming, it feels *long*. Either way, it’s an experience you *have* to do—but choose your company wisely. On the way back, there’s a stop at Cabo Catoche. Honestly, the snorkeling is pretty disappointing if you’ve done it elsewhere in the world. But the lunch stop at Cabo Catoche is really nice for relaxing (white sand and hammocks).
Thursday, July 9:
Short morning walk to Punta Mosquito at 6 AM. Really nice.
Ferry to Chiquila (330 pesos per person) + ADO bus to Valladolid (300 pesos per person).
In Valladolid, we booked "Casa Lucia" via Booking. The hotel is gorgeous, with a colonial style, and very close to the ADO bus terminal and downtown. It’s super quiet and clean. There’s a shared kitchen you can use with a fridge, microwave, and water dispenser, plus a big table by the pool and a nice indoor terrace. Breakfast was simple but included. The only small downsides were the tiny room and bathroom, no mirror in the room, and a noisy fan.
Friday, July 10:
Not far from the ADO bus terminal is the colectivo station for Chichen Itza. They offer a round-trip to Chichen Itza with an option to stop at Ik Kil cenote on the way back and then drop you off in Valladolid for 370 pesos per person (Ik Kil entrance included).
For the Chichen Itza visit, we’d booked a tour with a guide often mentioned in groups—his name is Juan Pat. He’s a Maya who lives near the site and speaks excellent French. He reserves spots in advance for you and queues up to be the first on-site. It cost 500 pesos per person + entrance fees. His tour lasts 2 hours and focuses mainly on the main pyramid and the ball court. He’s passionate and fascinating, even if some of his claims, as a Maya, might be a little biased. I think it’s *really* important to have a guide—otherwise, you’ll miss so much. You can contact Juan Pat on WhatsApp at +52 985 121 2381.
Afterward, we went to Ik Kil cenote (showers and life jackets mandatory, lockers available). It’s *very* crowded, but still really beautiful with its lush vegetation.
Saturday, July 11:
Since we didn’t have a car but still wanted to visit other cenotes that seemed hard to reach by public transport, we decided to book a taxi for the day. We agreed on 1200 pesos to take us to 3 different cenotes and wait for us at each one. (To find taxis, just look where they park near the ADO bus station.)
He picked us up at Zaci cenote, which we’d walked to. We got there at opening time and were the first ones there—had the place to ourselves for a while! 150 pesos per person. A pretty cenote in the city center with lush vegetation. It’s a bit like Ik Kil but without the deep cylindrical effect.
Cenote Xcanahaltun: the most beautiful cenote we visited. Entry 250 pesos per person. It’s a closed cenote with a hole that lets light in—a cave-like setting. You can kayak inside. There are little fish at the edge that nibble dead skin off your feet. Since it’s closed, the water is *freezing*!
Cenote Palomitas: entry 250 pesos per person. Another stunning closed cenote, even more enclosed than Xcanahaltun. The hole in the ceiling is smaller, so it was pretty dark when we arrived—kind of an eerie vibe. But when the staff turned on the lights, it looked like a "Gothic cathedral" full of bright stalactites.
Cenote Sac Aua: entry 290 pesos per person. The ticket includes a guided cave tour (tip-based). This cenote is really unique with its central island and way less crowded than Suytun. Just so you know, the water is *really* cold in cenotes. In these three, in July, we had the place to ourselves for a while and never saw more than 2 families at once—so peaceful!
Sunday, July 12:
ADO bus to Bacalar (536 pesos per person).
In Bacalar, we stayed via Airbnb with a host named Luli, who offers several rooms with shared bathroom and kitchen.
The room is nicely decorated in a pleasant setting. It’s ideally located near the lagoon and downtown. The shared kitchen is handy. The mosquito net over the bed is useful because there are *a lot* of mosquitoes in Bacalar. Luli provides a water jug, which is really nice. The only big downside is the lack of water pressure in the shower—we had to rinse off by filling a bucket. Also, there’s no real door separating the room from the bathroom. We never met Luli in person, but she was very responsive via messages. The terrace in the middle of the vegetation is lovely.
From the ADO terminal to the place, we took a taxi for 40 pesos. Since this driver was honest about the price (we’d checked beforehand), we decided to use him every time we needed a taxi in Bacalar. Here’s his WhatsApp: +52 983 184 3585.
Monday, July 13:
We did a boat tour on the lagoon with "Bacalar Francophone Activities." Since we were just the two of us, it cost 3500 pesos. If we’d managed to be 4 people, it would’ve been 1000 pesos per person.
We had a private 4-hour tour on the lagoon with Steeve and his very comfortable boat. He’s from Quebec, so his French is perfect. During those 4 hours, Steeve showed us the lagoon’s iconic spots *and* places other boats don’t go. He told us about the lagoon’s history and gave great tips on where to go and where to eat. As a little bonus, he gave us a video taken with his drone during our swimming break.
Tuesday, July 14:
We went to Los Rapidos by taxi (400 pesos round trip) and entry was 225 pesos per person. It’s *very* touristy but really beautiful. You can eat there (expensive), relax, and go down the "rapids" as many times as you want. It’s worth it if you spend a few hours there. You can’t bring in food or drinks—you leave them at the entrance and pick them up on the way out.
Wednesday, July 15:
On Wednesdays, navigation is banned on Bacalar Lagoon, so we’d planned another excursion.
Visit to Calakmul from Bacalar with ABCtours (WhatsApp +52 983 319 8359).
This agency organized a trip from Bacalar to Calakmul with a French-speaking guide. Communication beforehand via WhatsApp was smooth. Mr. Checo, the driver, and Fernando, the guide (who spoke great French), picked us up on the day. Mr. Checo drove very carefully on the long road and always made sure we were comfortable. Fernando is passionate about flora and fauna—he’s a biologist with a degree in ornithology, so he knows *everything* about animals. The slightest sound or song, and he knows what it is. He’s got an eye for spotting them, from the biggest to the smallest.
During the trip, we stopped at km 27 for a short forest walk, then went to see the two main pyramids on the site. On the way back, we stopped at the bat cave for the magical spectacle of millions of bats flying out at dusk. In the end, we saw or glimpsed (some briefly) spider monkeys, howler monkeys, a toucan, 2 tapirs, turkeys, 2 deer, and lots of birds. If, like us, you’re more into flora and fauna than archaeology, I’d *highly* recommend this agency and tour with Fernando.
It’s not cheap, but the road between Bacalar and the site is *long* (3.5 hours). Price: 3900 pesos per person for 2 (3500 for 3, 3200 for 4).
Thursday, July 16:
ADO bus to Playa del Carmen (614 pesos per person).
In Playa del Carmen, we stayed in an Airbnb. The building is on the town hall square, next to the casino.
The best thing about this place is the *location*—super close to Fifth Avenue (La Quinta). The kitchen is pretty basic, but the fridge works well. There are supermarkets nearby. The rooftop pool is really nice. The two big downsides, though, are the soundproofing (you can *hear* the neighbor’s alarm and all the events on the square) and the *total* lack of water pressure in the shower. We had to fill a trash can with water to pour over ourselves. When we told the owner, he said it wasn’t normal and someone would come fix it, but we never heard back. Based on previous reviews, this seems to be a known issue that never gets resolved.
Playa del Carmen is *very* touristy on Fifth Avenue, but in a fun, musical vibe—we never felt unsafe. There are *tons* of little souvenir shops for tourists on this street. There’s a beautiful monumental sculpture on the beach (the two figures meeting in the air), next to which you can see the Voladores show (men climbing a pole, tying themselves with ropes, and descending headfirst while "flying" around the pole). The show is tip-based and happens several times a day. In our opinion, Calle 38 is prettier than Fifth Avenue—it’s lush, green, and quieter, with the sea at the end. Great for an early evening stroll. We had really good meals at great prices at "El Tio Noy" tacos, just a few meters from Fifth Avenue in a side street.
For souvenirs, we’d recommend going to Walmart instead of Fifth Avenue—you’ll find skulls, tequila, mezcal, keychains, mugs, glasses... at good, fixed prices.
Friday, July 17:
We did the excursion to Isla Contoy. Isla Contoy is an uninhabited, highly protected island. Only 200 people are allowed to land per day on a rotating basis, so only a few companies have permission to dock there. Most agencies subcontract the day to a third-party company.
We booked through VRM (Viviendo Riviera Maya), but it was Ocean Tours Mexico that handled the tour. Contoy is a little paradise. We were accompanied by multilingual guides, including French speakers, throughout the day. Steffy gave us info about the island during a short walk on the marked trails, and Leño Tlatemoa kept the mood up on the boat rides with music and dancing. Isla Contoy is *truly* stunning, and the lunch was delicious: grilled fish and chicken, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, fruit, drinks (everything is brought and taken back by the guides). The snorkeling part was pretty disappointing if you’ve done it in Cozumel, though. The stop at Isla Mujeres isn’t very interesting either—it’s too short to explore, and the island is *extremely* touristy. Still, the excursion was very well organized, and we had a great day (2970 pesos per person).
Saturday, July 18:
We wanted to go snorkeling in Cozumel but thought the prices from French-speaking agencies were too high. Plus, for snorkeling, we figured we didn’t *need* a French-speaking guide.
So we found a much cheaper solution by taking the ferry from Playa del Carmen ourselves and choosing an agency in Playa. The round-trip ferry cost 663.50 pesos per person. Then we took a taxi to the snorkeling boat (100 pesos). The agency we chose is called Mystic Snorkel—they don’t have a physical office. The tour cost 1400 pesos per person. It was a small boat, but that day we were the only ones, so we got a private tour at the group rate. We stopped at 4 different sites, all very different and beautiful. We saw all kinds of fish, corals, a nurse shark, and turtles. El Cielo, with its huge starfish, is *exceptional*. If you’re going snorkeling in the Yucatan Peninsula, this is *the* tour to do—the other sites are pretty "poor" in comparison.
Sunday, July 19:
Morning dive with Triton Diving. I chose the Cozumel dive option. Great experience.
Booking via WhatsApp was easy. On the day of the dive, Selene, who speaks French, was our guide. She’s *very* attentive to the group’s safety. The briefings are clear and precise. In Cozumel, we did 2 very different sites: the first was a drift dive with lots of life—beautiful corals and fish. The second was a wreck, the C53, a 56-meter boat you can enter. Not much marine life, but a beautiful wreck intentionally sunk for divers—still in great condition. An unforgettable moment. Selene even took videos during the dive, which the club sends you for free afterward. I’d *highly* recommend this club.
Just so you know, in Playa del Carmen, the beaches were full of sargassum during our stay, despite barriers and daily cleanup. Locals told us the problem is getting worse and the sargassum is arriving earlier in the season. Tourism has taken a *big* hit this summer, and they’re wondering if tourism can even survive the sargassum season anymore. A lot of tourists are heading to the islands—Isla Mujeres and Cozumel—to enjoy the beaches, as the west side of those islands is sargassum-free.
Monday, July 20:
Colectivo to Puerto Morelos. First, a colectivo toward Cancun that drops you off between Puerto Morelos town and Puerto Morelos beach (40 pesos per person), then another from that junction to the beach (10 pesos per person).
In Puerto Morelos, we’d booked a room via Airbnb at "Piedra del Caribe." *Best* place we stayed in Mexico. It’s an aparthotel. Our room was ready before check-in, so they let us in early. The place matched the description—spacious, with a comfortable king-size bed. The shower had *great* pressure, which isn’t a given in Mexico. The staff was super friendly and welcoming. They let us use the pool, restrooms, and rooftop shower after check-out while we waited for our ride to Cancun Airport. They even kept our luggage. I *highly* recommend this place.
In Puerto Morelos, there was *way* less sargassum than in Playa del Carmen—it was actually swimmable.
We did the snorkeling tour with the fishermen’s cooperative for 450 pesos per person for 2 hours. The reef is close to the beach (you’re not allowed to swim there), so the boat ride is short. It’s not as pretty as Cozumel, but it’s nice and affordable. On Puerto Morelos’s page, you can also access a small, not-very-well-preserved reef. There’s also a cenote in the sea where fresh water mixes with saltwater—the water is murky there. We had a great dinner and excellent cocktails at "La Choza del Puerto."
Tuesday, July 21:
Wandered around Puerto Morelos (check out the church and read everything—it’s entertaining!), relaxed by the hotel pool, and left for Cancun Airport by taxi (400 pesos) booked via InDrive to head back to France.
Our highlights:
- Holbox
- The whale shark tour
- The cenotes
- The local flora and fauna (so present!)
- Isla Contoy
- Cabo Catoche (except for the snorkeling)
What we liked least:
- The bioluminescence (barely visible despite good conditions)
- The food—we found it not very diverse in taquerias
- The constant tipping
- The lack of water pressure in showers (fixed, wall-mounted, no hose or showerhead)
Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions while it’s still fresh in our minds.
Traveling with just one spare pair of underwear, considering a hot shower a miracle, never staying in the same place too long by sleeping wherever night catches us, taking whatever local, improbable, and rickety transport we can find—this is the DNA of us wanderers. Except this time, the script for our movie is going to be a whole different genre. On paper, the destination doesn’t exactly scream epic adventure: Réunion! And what’s more... we won’t be two, or four, or even ten. We’ll be a solid thirty. All from the same family. Yes, thirty. At this point, it’s not just a trip—it’s a summer camp on the move! Why inflict this on such a peaceful island? Because my brother decided to get married there with his lovely bride. A great idea, you might say... especially when it involves relocating the equivalent of a small Ardennes village 10,000 kilometers from home for three weeks! So who’s stepping up to be the guide and wave the little flag?
So, for an exceptional trip, exceptional stories! Don’t worry, the debates at the supermarket over whether to choose plain chips or roast chicken chips, the beach picnics washed down with ti’ punch, and other rougail sausages to digest by the pool will only make it into the family archives. Here, I’ll stick to the tales of our beautiful escapes, the ones where we explore the wild corners of this little volcanic rock planted in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So where exactly are we headed?
For the first week—the subject of this first installment—we’re taking it easy. We’ll start by rediscovering the coastline, from the Souffleur in Saint-Leu to the Hermitage lagoon, before a little trip to the Cirque de Cilaos and its legendary road with 400 turns, just to get our legs warmed up.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of three years at most in Thailand, and I’m not a big expert on the country.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to piece together a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who miss it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guards for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big property, be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t really made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though, are much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been broken for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the side of the road, sometimes right on the road. When you arrive, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, which reminds visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. Seeing a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you might think it’s best not to cross paths with them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at temples on the brink of death, enduring terrible suffering. No one did anything about it. The image (and the smell) of one of them, dying and emitting the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The well-fed animal quickly became a happy, enormous beast with its own garden. Yet, it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water in them for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not a gimmick—it’s just that these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather,
A season that only exists in the southwest of America,
I remember very well what I told you that morning
A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago...
We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...
Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!
To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"
As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...
Here we go—finally, the big day has arrived! A trip the whole family (my two kids, my husband, and me) had been looking forward to for so long.
To keep it short, we left from Nice, arrived in Namibia on June 25, 2025, and left again on the 21st—four weeks later.
We used an agency for all the camping reservations, activities, and the car rental. At least that side of things was taken care of. Michaël was our contact throughout the planning and the trip itself.
We spent our first night at Londiningi BB. A bit out of the city center but very quiet. The rooms were spacious and clean, and we could eat on-site that evening. Perfect for recovering from the flight.
This travel journal is our second on VoyageForum, following last year’s where we recounted our four weeks in Vietnam.
The goal remains the same: since some members on this site share tips, experiences, and great deals that help us prepare for our trips, we do the same after returning—both to give back a little and in the hope that our experiences might be useful to others in some way.
Our route was as follows: Bangkok, Siem Reap, Krabi, Suratthani, Koh Phangan, Koh Tao, Chumphon, Bang Saphan, Prachuab Khiri Khan, Sam Roi Yod, Hua Hin, Phetchaburi, Bangkok.
Beyond rediscovering Bangkok, our objectives were the long-held dream of seeing Angkor and exploring southern Thailand, much of which isn’t overly touristy.
A quick big thank-you to Barbot, who took the time to answer several of our questions.
12/07/2013
The cheapest flight we found earlier this year was a Paris-Bangkok route with a layover in Moscow for 1440 €, total for two people.
So, this time we tried Aeroflot. Airbus A318 for the first leg, A330 for the second. Nothing particularly annoying to report—the passengers were very calm, the cabin temperature was comfortable, and we had enough legroom.
That said, the quality of the meal trays was pretty mediocre, and the flight attendants weren’t exactly comedians.
We’d like to remind everyone that it’s best to exchange as little money as possible at the airport upon arrival, since the rate is about 5% worse than at city banks.
Of course, we made sure to take the airport exit where you can catch official taxis to avoid getting scammed. So, we queued up, a little lady gave us the ticket, and off we went with the driver.
Generally, this system works well because these drivers are registered, know their duties, and the risks they face if they break the rules. Except that day, right off the bat, we got the scammer of the day. His first move was to snatch the ticket from my wife’s hands—the one you’re supposed to keep in case of a complaint. My husband saw it, but after a full day of travel, we were a bit out of it, and honestly, there was no reason to be suspicious. But once we started driving, the guy refused to turn on the meter. We insisted more and more firmly, but nothing. So, I used the famous method of opening the door and starting to step out of the car. At 40 km/h, that scares the driver more than the passenger. He finally turned on the meter, but that didn’t calm him down—quite the opposite. For the next half-hour, he ruined the ride by demanding extra fees here and there. Having dealt with several scam attempts last year in Vietnam, this wasn’t exactly new, and we were proud of ourselves for staying pretty zen. Still, this guy was a little scary—he was completely wired and aggressive. Honestly, it was hard not to think he was on something. He’d be perfect for a *Scarface* remake. When we finally arrived at the hotel, he followed us to the entrance. We paid the two tolls (25 and 45 baht), gave him the usual 100 baht extra for the ride, and stayed polite but firm. So, meter: 245 baht + 100 baht + 25 and 45 baht for tolls—we paid the exact amount, no way we were tipping this guy. He left furious, but he was already like that before picking us up... Anyway, avoid Mr. Chartree Chidchen, number 089 826 7308, car E2663!
We were so relieved to finally settle in at Feung Nakorn Balcony hotel in the temple district. 42 € per night, great reception, all the staff is friendly. The AC works fine, the bed seemed hard at first but turned out to be comfortable. The hotel is quiet, away from the nightlife, but at this time of year, many places are less crowded than in high season. Even with a nice fish pond and outdoor breakfast area, it’s a decent hotel, though we felt we could’ve found something better.
After a night on the plane, the first afternoon is always a bit of a slog. We napped for a few hours, and when we woke up—guess what—we were starving. We visited a temple across from the hotel (nothing special) and then decided to take the Chao Phraya Express, the river shuttle that serves many piers along the river. It was a really enjoyable experience. The steel gangway wobbles when you board and disembark, the boat sits low in the water, and sometimes you get splashed. During peak times, you’re packed in like sardines, but most of all, there’s that exotic urban landscape passing by, especially the temple rooftops.
At that exact moment, the boat was packed. We didn’t see a ticket booth at the pier, and we tried in vain to pay the few baht for the ride. The cashier on the boat was too busy, and another employee we called didn’t have time to help us. Oh well, we weren’t going to force the issue. Still, this mode of transport is super practical for avoiding traffic, and at the piers, the lines with station names are clearly marked, with colors matching the flags on the boats. Combined with a map like the *Routard* guide, it’s easy to navigate.
We easily made it to the restaurant *Harmonique*, located near one of these piers. It’s a unanimous favorite on this forum, and let us tell you—it’s well-deserved. What a wonderful experience that evening! We only saw the outdoor gazebo because there was no way we were dining inside. It’s not flashy, so those looking for a luxurious setting should look elsewhere.
That night, the staff was a bit slow, and we had to track them down several times to move things along. But oh, my friends—what a feast on the plate! Start with the appetizer platter for two at 250 baht, featuring four specialties, each more tempting than the last, followed by their famous crab curry for 200 baht. There’s *so much* crab in there! The dish is so delicious and rich that when you finish, you feel—how to put it—like it was almost *too* good, to the point where you’re almost put off eating for days. And also, oh yes, we *will* be back. Their satay chicken is just as amazing, and it would be a crime not to mention their generous dessert with ice cream, warm banana, and chocolate, plus their *excellent* almond milkshake.
Later, we took a taxi to Kao San Road, mainly to book a Ko Tao-Chumphon trip for 600 baht per person at the Lomprayah counter. In hindsight, we should’ve booked all three of our trips there right away.
Kao San Road is *ultra*-touristy—better for younger crowds, but it’s still worth seeing. There’s rock ‘n’ roll, hippies, and crowds everywhere.
We walked back to the hotel, and when we got a little lost near a canal, a really nice older Thai man spontaneously appeared out of the night to kindly point us in the right direction.
Finally, a real long night of sleep ahead—we cranked up the AC. Sweet, the vacation has begun!
Hi there,
I just got back from a trip to Sri Lanka from December 18th to January 1st with 2 adults and 2 kids (12 years old).
If it helps, here’s my itinerary.
We left on December 18th from Madrid with Qatar Airways. No complaints. I booked my tickets back in March for 800 € per person. (I flew from Madrid because I live near the Spanish border and was too worried about strikes in France.)
We arrived on December 19th at 4 PM (local time). Before leaving France, I’d booked a taxi through MyTransfer for 59 € to Sigiriya. A van was waiting for us at the airport exit.
A never-ending 3-hour drive to Sigiriya. We stayed at Samana Guesthouse—very simple, clean, with a pool and an excellent Sri Lankan breakfast. Shower and straight to bed.
Friday, December 20th: Beautiful weather, but very humid and hot. We visited Lion Rock (36 € for adults) and then Pidurangala.
I loved both sites—they’re a must-do in my opinion.
Spent the late afternoon by the pool.
Saturday, December 21st: Another gorgeous day. The guesthouse manager offered us a free 2-hour tuk-tuk tour. We first visited a lake, rice fields, the temple, and the Sigiriya market, plus the usual tourist trap—the botanical garden (no pressure to buy anything at the end).
Then we took a tuk-tuk to Dambulla Temple, the Golden Buddha, and the wholesale market.
Sunday, December 22nd: Still beautiful weather. I’d booked a taxi for 8 AM. We did all the long trips by taxi to save time. I’d ask for prices from 2 or 3 WhatsApp taxi agencies 2 days or the day before—super responsive, always got replies within 5 minutes. We headed to Ella (4-hour drive) for 22,000 LKR.
Arrived in the afternoon at Rest Full Homestay—a small, family-run guesthouse. Clean, cozy, and an amazing Sri Lankan breakfast.
In the afternoon, we went to Nine Arches Bridge. It was a Sunday, a Sri Lankan holiday, so it was *packed*—mostly locals and very few white tourists! Even though it was crowded, it was cool because it was all Sri Lankans. We waited an hour for the train. It’s worth seeing, but honestly, I didn’t think it was that amazing.
Then we headed to the station to check if we needed to book tickets for the train to Haputale—turns out, no.
Monday, December 23rd: Beautiful weather. We hiked Ella Rock—a gorgeous trek. The final stretch is steep but shaded, so it wasn’t as tough as I’d read. The whole hike is stunning from start to finish. We saw the train pass twice (one blue, one red) and lots of women picking tea.
After that, we did Little Adam’s Peak. It’s not hard, but it was *packed* with tourists—meh. Luckily, at the top, you can walk a bit farther (down one side and back up) to get some space to yourself.
What I *didn’t* like was the commercial vibe at the big café/restaurant with a pool at the entrance of Little Adam’s Peak. Loud music, all that money being made right next to little souvenir stands run by Sri Lankans or tea-picking women. Felt off.
Ended the day buying souvenirs at one of the few shops we found during the trip.
Tuesday, December 24th: Beautiful weather. Took the train to Haputale. We got to the station 30 minutes before the 9:30 AM train. We could’ve taken 2nd or 3rd class—I went with 2nd (160 LKR per person).
It was crowded, but we managed to get seats—first 2, then 3. Only a 1-hour ride, but I *loved* it—windows and doors open the whole time.
Arrived in Haputale around 11 AM, and the mist was already rolling in.
We walked to our guesthouse, The Mist Holiday Bungalow. Simple but clean, with a great view of the tea plantations. The owner’s wife is Vietnamese and used to work for French tour operators, so her French is still pretty good—helpful for us since our English is terrible. They booked us a tuk-tuk for 4:45 AM the next day (2,000 LKR) to Lipton’s Seat.
Spent the afternoon wandering around Haputale. Not much charm, but there’s a nice fruit and veggie market and a short walk through the tea plantations.
Wednesday, December 25th: Beautiful weather. The tuk-tuk was on time to take us to Lipton’s Seat. We were the first ones there—the sky was just starting to turn pink. In the end, only about ten of us watched the sunrise. The guesthouse had packed us breakfast, and we walked back down (half on the road, half through the plantations). Didn’t see any tea picking since it was Christmas, but the walk was still incredible. We took detours through villages full of kids.
After that, we visited the tea factory. The tour was really interesting, and we took the bus back down to Haputale. Such a great moment—whole families were heading to mass, dressed up and made up. All so beautiful.
At noon, we left for Udawalawe National Park. Taxi for 14,000 LKR. Stayed at River Inn Safari Cottage. *Warning*: It’s the same place as Eagle Safari Cottage. I don’t recommend it. We’d always stayed with families before, but here it was just staff—totally different vibe. The pool was nice but not very clean (water was murky). The bungalow was big and fine, but it was brand new—so new the asphalt floor wasn’t fully dry. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so we had to eat on-site. Couldn’t leave a review on Booking because they never confirmed we’d stayed, and they canceled our reservation the next day.
Thursday, December 26th: Beautiful weather. I’d booked a safari through the hotel for 5:30–10 AM for 54 USD. Honestly, yes, there are a lot of jeeps, but it was great. The kids loved it—we saw everything there was to see.
Left by taxi at 11:30 AM for Welligama (12,000 LKR).
We didn’t stay in Welligama city but at Coconut Beach, between Welligama and Midigama. *Total crush* on the guesthouse: Sky Mountain Café with View. Such a lovely family. The mom makes amazing meals at reasonable prices. The view from the hill over the sea is unreal.
Spent the afternoon walking along the beach.
Friday, December 27th: Beautiful weather. My kids are surfers. Unfortunately, there weren’t any boards their size to rent at Coconut, so we took a tuk-tuk to Welligama Bay (1,000 LKR). They surfed from 8 AM to 5 PM—rental was 5,000 LKR for the day. Meanwhile, we walked the beach and swam. Water was 29°C.
Saturday, December 28th: Beautiful weather, rain from 4 PM until midnight. Same surf day. They were so well-behaved the whole trip, so this was their reward.
Sunday, December 29th: Beautiful weather. Beach day at Coconut. *Warning*: It’s a reef break. For surfers, there are three spots (Coconut Left, Middle, and Right). The boys bodysurfed (with fins) all morning, and at 1 PM, we took the bus to Hikkaduwa.
Stayed at Hotel Universal Beach. Nothing special—right on the water, but the rooms were dark even though they were clean. The manager was super nice, but the rest was meh, and breakfast was mediocre compared to what we’d had before (2 eggs and 3 slices of toast). Plus, it was late—8 AM.
First impression of Hikkaduwa wasn’t great—way too many Russians for our taste.
Monday, December 30th: Beautiful weather. Spent the whole day exploring. Turtle Beach, then the other side of the beach (toward Galle) near the fishing port. The beach there is much wider, with scattered hotels and super quiet. It’s beautiful—I should’ve booked somewhere in that area. Ended up having a great day away from the crowds.
Tuesday, December 31st: Overcast, then beautiful, rain at 4 PM. Had to end the year (and the trip) with some surf. Rented boards for the kids (3,000 LKR per board for the day). Bad luck—the waves were on a reef break but small. Not great for them, but no big deal. They still got out of the water by 2 PM. Walked the beach (which is gorgeous), had a juice, and went for a swim. Then back to surfing in the rain at 4 PM.
Wednesday, January 1st: Left by taxi at 5 AM (18,000 LKR). Flight at 10 AM. Arrived in Madrid at 8 PM.
I could have titled my travel journal like Carmen: "Some trips are born twice." Indeed, we had considered this destination back in February 2020. However, an honest tour operator advised us against traveling at that time due to the climate. So, we gave up and opted for Guatemala instead (see "On the Mayan Lands" on this site).
So, why this title? When I was in primary school, over 65 years ago, the illustrations in my history books (Machu Picchu) and geography books (Lake Titicaca) made me dream, and those images stayed in my mind. It took until 2026 to finally make this dream come true!
We prepared our trip with Tout Pérou, a French-speaking "agency." Everything was handled via email and WhatsApp exchanges with our contact: Laurent, who was both competent, friendly, and full of good advice.
For 200 €, Tout Pérou provided us with drivers and guides whenever we wanted, helped us buy our domestic flights (cheaper when purchased in Peru), booked shuttles between airports and hotels, and got us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, as well as on the buses between Chivay and Puno and between Puno and Cusco. In short, Laurent took care of all the logistics and the Machu Picchu tickets. It was up to us to book our hotels. Tout Pérou provided a list, but we weren’t obliged to follow it. Another advantage of the package: we didn’t have to pay in advance; we paid the service providers directly day by day.
We didn’t meet Laurent in person because he was on vacation in Europe. Before his departure, he gave us a briefing, provided a summary table with the entire program, the service providers, their phone numbers, their fees, the schedules, and gave us plenty of advice (money, exchange, safety, etc.). After returning at the end of our stay, he kept checking in on us.
Lastly, we had also gathered information from Arnaud Lagadec, who runs a hotel in Cusco and offers tours of the region. He gave us a lot of useful information. Another contact: Thomas Montaigne, very friendly, who runs an agency in Arequipa (Agence Pérou Exclusif).
Day 1 – Paris to Lima
Foreword
I’ll share our trip without any pretension—I don’t have the talent of some contributors on this forum—and I’ll illustrate it with a few photos (taken with an ordinary smartphone). My comments are personal and only reflect my own views. So, please be kind! Feel free to comment on my story as you like, but let’s avoid pointless debates.
Even though we live in the south of the Paris region, true to our habits when the flight is in the morning, we chose to spend the night before our departure in a hotel near CDG and parked our car in a parking lot in Garches. This way, we avoid the stress that often comes with traveling around Paris (accidents, roadworks, traffic jams, etc.).
Check-in and border control went smoothly on that Sunday morning. Our Air France flight was uneventful. In Lima, border control took a particularly long time, and for the first time, we didn’t get an entry visa stamped in our passports.
As planned, a driver took us to the Miraflores district, where our hotel was located. We were surprised by the numerous signs about possible tsunamis, having forgotten that Peru is prone to such events and regularly experiences earthquakes. We’d see the consequences of these during our journey.
Exhausted from the early wake-up, the 13-hour flight, and the 7-hour time difference, we had dinner at the hotel before a restful night.
Note that this day was Peru’s presidential election day. As a result, we weren’t served beer—the sale of alcohol was banned that Sunday.
We did the Langtang trek (hike) from September 10th to 17th, with the first and last days being the trip from Kathmandu and back—so 6 days of actual walking. It’s a fairly well-known trek but certainly not as famous or crowded as those in the Annapurna or Everest regions, which is why we chose it.
In theory, it’s mandatory to have a guide for this trek. In reality, it seems there are ways to bypass the regulations: we met at least two people hiking without a guide—a South Korean, a New Zealander, and possibly also a couple of English women and an American couple, though we’re not sure if they had a guide.
The agency we booked with had told us it was an affordable trek for relatively older people in good shape—which is our case (I’m 72 myself). I have to say upfront that we found it quite challenging, maybe because we didn’t have good weather—it was the end of the monsoon season. To be clear, no matter your fitness level, I’d say doing this trek in the middle of the monsoon season would be suicidal.
Day 1 – Journey from Kathmandu to Syapru Besi
On Monday, September 8th, there had been violent protests in Kathmandu against the government, which had, among other things, blocked access to social media and been accused of nepotism and corruption. There were 19 deaths. The situation was very tense on the day of our departure, Wednesday the 10th. The agency warned us that public transport was very unreliable. So, we decided to take a jeep, at an additional cost of $100 ($160 minus what was already budgeted for the bus).
We left a little before 7 a.m. and it took us a good hour just to reach the outskirts of Kathmandu. Along the way, we saw several houses and vehicles set on fire by protesters.
The road to Syapru Besi is only 120 km, but it’s frankly awful. It’s always narrow, winds through endless mountains, and the shoulders range from bad to confusing to nonexistent. Several sections are just dirt tracks. We didn’t regret opting for the jeep, as we could stop several times at our convenience—if only to let Y (my Thai partner) throw up everything she had. She’d taken her usual motion sickness medication, but the constant turns, accelerations, and braking eventually made her terribly carsick.
In Nuwakot, we stopped for breakfast at a nice little restaurant, Jimbu. It was around 8:30 a.m., and we’d barely covered 60 km. The restaurant has a lovely garden overlooking the Trishuli Ganga, the river flowing down from Syapru Besi. First photo: the river in the bottom right corner, mist and clouds over the mountain on the other side.
An hour later, my second photo: the hills along the Trishuli Ganga. You can see the different crops—lush green rice paddies in the lower right and corn, already yellowed and likely harvested, in the foreground on the left. And of course, the mist and clouds through which you can glimpse the mountain on the other side of the river.
When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”
This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...
Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.
Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!
La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.
Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.
Some practical info:
- The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side.
- We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €.
- The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen.
- Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day.
- Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.
Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.
Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.
Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
It’s an ancient city that breathes, a living spring.
Here, no kitschy signs like “I miss you in Fengyu,” nor mass-produced fake antiques.
The century-old houses still bear the marks of wind and rain; in the morning, you hear roosters crowing, and at dusk, smoke gently rises from the kitchens.
This city doesn’t try to please anyone—like the spring water flowing through it, it simply keeps living at its own pace.
Located in Eryuan County, in the Dali Prefecture of Yunnan, the ancient town of Fengyu is a nationally designated historical and cultural city. It’s nicknamed the “land of scholars and ink”—during the Qing Dynasty, the Fengxiang Academy produced four *jinshi* and eleven *juren* in the imperial examinations. The Bai families made studying and farming a true legacy. Even on market days, you’ll find stalls of calligraphy and paintings, while lintels and screen walls are covered with family mottos.
Fengyu was also an important stop on the ancient Tea Horse Road. It preserves the second-largest Bai architectural complex in China, just after Xizhou. The famous traveler Xu Xiake spent seven days here and compared it to the “peach blossom paradise.”
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
The latest travel journal about Turkmenistan dates back to 2019. Here’s a quick update on this vast desert country, which is now a bit easier to visit than before.
This is my first travel journal. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. The country is slowly opening up, but it’s still possible to visit sites where you’ll be completely alone. In five days, I saw two Hongkongers, a few Germans, and a Chilean at the crater, ten Chinese people in a capital bazaar, and that’s it!
It’s possible to visit Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan. The easiest and most economical way is to take a taxi to the border from Bukhara. The trip takes a little over an hour.
Crossing the border takes quite a while because many Turkmen bring back items bought in Uzbekistan to resell in Turkmenistan. For example, diapers, baby products, or beauty products.
It took me over 2.5 hours to cross the border. To visit Turkmenistan, it’s mandatory to have a guide and go through a travel agency. British agencies often offer three-, five-, or seven-day trips for over 1,500 or 2,000 €.
But if your budget is more limited, you can contact a few Turkmen agencies directly by email, and they’ll make you an offer between 700 and 1,300 € for three to seven days. I took a five-day trip from Turkmenabat in the northeast of the country to Dashoguz in the north. The goal was to visit the main UNESCO-listed sites, including Merv, and archaeological sites like Nisa or Gonur Tepe.
Your guide will also be your driver. They’ll pick you up at the border. The formalities are very long because customs officers have to stamp multiple documents, and obtaining the visa you previously requested from your travel agency requires several checks. But the process goes relatively smoothly, even if each step takes a while.
Once on the other side, the first surprise is the brand-new highway all the way to Turkmenabat. A very long line of trucks stretches for several kilometers on the Turkmen side to cross the border into Uzbekistan. According to my guide, Turkmen trucks transport gas and cotton (though not this season, since the harvest is in September), but they mainly fill up their tanks because fuel is much cheaper in Turkmenistan. A full tank for a car costs about 3 €, which is unbeatable.
From the Farap border post, the goal is to reach the city of Mary, which is home to the UNESCO-listed site of Merv in its suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. This city is known as a foundation by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC under the name Alexandria of Margiana. Several fortresses are visible.
After more than three hours on the road, we have lunch at a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin. Several quotes from the president are visible along the highway, but the road is in good condition, and we move along easily. This will be by far the best road in the country—things will get much worse later.
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
Preamble:
Africa was calling to me, so a year ago, with our usual travel companions, we decided to return to the continent we love so much.
Where to go?
Uganda quickly caught our attention—wildlife we’re used to seeing, plus gorillas and the shoebill we missed in Zambia.
We got in touch with Paul, who’s been mentioned several times on the forum back in September, booked our flight tickets, secured the gorilla permits, and by early October, the most important things were done.
We still had plenty of time to hold our "prep meetings" for the final itinerary.
Three days before departure, I sprained my ankle (my weak spot, as you’ll recall from our Colombia trip).
I wasn’t in great spirits, but after a year of waiting, nothing was going to stop me.
We’d see how it goes!
Off we went for our new adventures
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
It often happens that we're asked what to visit in Belgium.
And the answers usually point to Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, and Brussels—and rightly so, as these cities are well worth visiting ;).
However, Belgium, though small, isn’t just limited to these four cities.
I live in one of them (Brussels), enjoy spending time in the other three, but I’d like to highlight some lesser-known spots that could add to the trip for those who want to see a bit more or something different.
Between trips, I like exploring one or two corners of the country where I live.
Hence the idea for a travel journal of walks.
Most of the places I’ll talk about can be visited as a day trip from Brussels, whether by public transport or car.
In chronological order of the topics covered:
- The Gileppe Dam (Liège province) - message 2, page 1
- The Domaine de La Hulpe (Walloon Brabant) - message 3, page 1
- Mechelen (Antwerp province) - message 4, page 1
- The coast - message 5, page 1
- The Westhoek, from De Panne - message 6, page 1
- The Zwin, from Knokke - message 7, page 1
- Lier (between Mechelen and Antwerp) - message 8, page 1
- Mons (Hainaut) - message 9, page 1
- The Florenville region - message 12, page 1
- The East Cantons - message 13, page 1
- Dinant - message 18, page 1
- The Japanese garden in Hasselt - message 24, page 2
- Leuven - message 29, page 2
- Louvain-la-Neuve - message 32, page 2
- Ostend - message 42 (page 3) and message 166 (page 9)
- The floralies of Groot-Bijgaarden - message 43, page 3
- Halle Forest - message 44, page 3
- Pralines - message 54, page 3
- Charleroi - message 68, page 4
- Namur - message 92, page 5
- Le Bois du Cazier (Marcinelle) - message 95, page 5
- Couques and gosettes - message 96, page 5
- Liège - message 99, page 5
- Tournai - message 115, page 6
- Oudenaarde - message 121, page 7
- Meise Botanical Garden - message 124, page 7
- Tongeren - message 125, page 7
- Beersel Castle (Flemish Brabant) - message 126, page 7
- Brussels in lockdown (messages 150 and 154, page 8)
- Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital in Lessines (messages 161 and 162, page 9)
- Westende (message 167, page 9)
I’ll keep updating this list as the journal progresses...
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rental options kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything suddenly fell into place—I told myself, it’s time!
The preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not the south?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or go with the flow?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela about this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(Steak for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
You’ll find here a post with some practical information.
And here, the version of the travel journal without comments.
---/---
As a supplement, the route track.
Not necessarily ultra-accurate since Google has serious gaps for this destination...
I return to Passo Falzarego via the "Sentiero Italia" (here, trail 424). It runs through the valley between Lagazuoi and Sass di Stria. It’s now in the shade, so it’s better to hike it a little earlier in the afternoon. You can see "Passo Falzarego" and, in the background, the rocky block of Averau dominating the scene.
Cesare Vecellio painted the 20 panels of the immense coffered ceiling in the central nave—scenes from the Virgin Mary’s life based on the Gospels.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
A little sneak peek?
