Palenque
The evening we arrived in Palenque, we ate at the restaurant Aluxes, 200 meters from the Parque Central. The Parque Central isn’t ugly, but it’s not as atmospheric as the usual central parks or zócalos. But like I’ve already said, Palenque isn’t a city to visit for its own sake. The meal cost us 320 pesos, which is pricier than usual, but Y was happy—I think she managed to find something she liked (just so you know, Thais are extremely picky when eating out, and little pleases them once they’re away from Thai food).
Getting to the ruins is easy—there are plenty of colectivos on the main street. The fare is 20 pesos per person, and it takes about twenty minutes. You have to pay twice to see the ruins: first, 36 pesos to enter the Parque Nacional, then 75 pesos to enter the Parque Arqueológico. All in all, around 5 euros per person—no big deal for ruins as famous as Palenque’s.
We went in the morning. It wasn’t too hot yet, and there weren’t too many people. Vendors at the entrance offered sunscreen and mosquito repellent. No need—there wasn’t a single mosquito or fly! The park is really well maintained; the grass is neatly trimmed everywhere. It’d be impressive if we hadn’t gotten used to this level of cleanliness after three weeks in the country.
The ruins are, of course, magnificent. They date roughly from the first millennium AD. They’re on a plateau overlooking the lowlands, so it’s less stifling than in the city below. The site isn’t as huge as Teotihuacán, but you can tell there’s probably a lot more to uncover—maybe even discover—in the thick jungle surrounding it. We’re not clock-watchers (I think I’ve mentioned that before), but in two hours, I had time to climb most of what’s accessible.
I don’t remember the names given to the different monuments. A few photos will give you an idea of what they look like. I’m almost hesitant to show them—not because they’re bad (there are better, but they cost more), but because there must be millions of similar photos taken by the hordes of tourists who’ve flooded the place.
One thing caught my attention: the Maya—at least those who built these monuments—didn’t seem to have mastered the vault technique. A photo clearly shows some awkwardness in this regard: the triangular ascent toward the lintel is just a rough approximation of a real vault, with a clean, well-drawn arch. Okay, I’ll admit you could call it a corbelled vault, but it’s far from a well-developed technique.
If I sound a bit too critical, it’s because I’m getting tired of the tendency to find everything magnificent and extraordinary everywhere… That doesn’t take away from the beauty of the ruins. Besides, the Greeks didn’t know about vaults either, as far as I recall, and that didn’t stop them from leaving behind extraordinary ruins.
Palenque has some interesting panels depicting Maya warriors or nobles, as we imagine them—with extravagant feather headdresses, those strangely elongated heads deformed since childhood, hooked noses, and generous lips slightly protruding. Curiously, in a photo I took in the market streets around the Mercado de la Merced in Mexico City, I found a woman whose profile isn’t unlike those Maya heads. Indigenous blood is very present in Mexico…
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16: This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us. The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!! The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli. The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch. We explore the property:

And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:


Sunday, May 17: After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland. After a hearty breakfast,

we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs. We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.


We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).

From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.

Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16: This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us. The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!! The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli. The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch. We explore the property:

And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:


Sunday, May 17: After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland. After a hearty breakfast,

we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs. We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.


We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).

From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.

Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.










































When it comes to the Caribbean island of Saint-Martin, it's customary to praise its coastline and dreamy beaches—and they certainly deserve it.
But in this story, I’d like to highlight other memories, aspects, and impressions for a slightly different change of scenery.
Enjoy the read—some text and, above all, lots of photos.
« Byenveni sou zile Sen Maten! » (Welcome to the island of Saint-Martin)



























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.


Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...




















Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
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.
A little sneak peek?







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:

