If you counter my arguments with actual arguments, I won’t have any objections.
I’m criticizing Parisians as a whole—if you take it personally, that’s your issue. I never said, "You’re a narrow-minded Parisian, blah blah blah."
You talk about my bad faith, but saying I’m hiding behind personal attacks when *you* (not just you individually, but all of you) keep criticizing me personally—what’s that about?
You call *that* arguments?
"Your bad faith is pathetic" <= take that back, it’s on you.
Vivre pleinement, c'est rester libre de ses choix.
Isn’t it you who said earlier that what gives the French a bad reputation is Parisians...? Well, if that statement isn’t a generalization... So I’ll say it again—you’re being unfair. Anyway, I’ll leave you to your so-called argument. I don’t judge you, and I don’t judge others either, preferring to form my own opinion...
I don’t know if all Parisians are rotten, but even here, I’ve noticed that the people who are the rudest and most condescending in their replies (toward me and probably others) are very often from Paris (gileb, kujila, etc.), the Paris region (gildadesilesdefrance ;), etc.), and I even suspect kola is from the area! That says it all.
As for attila, I have serious doubts too—probably from the same rotten corner (oops, I mean Paris, what a slip-up!).
The least "arrogant" ones: djalma (though he admits he’s originally from "Île-de-France"—the only island covered in concrete and not even surrounded by water. Too bad, we could’ve had some peace).
Anyway, Paris is proof that your environment really shapes your mindset and behavior (walls and concrete = cold, rigid minds).
But this applies to all big cities, in France and elsewhere. Just look at Marseille, where people kill each other over cigarettes like in a Western—even chimpanzees are more peaceful!
And I rarely come across "big shots," dealers, or snobby bourgeois types in small villages. But to each their own, I guess.
The funniest part is places like the Bois de Boulogne and others, where the "horny apes" from the city come out at night when their primal urges take over.
Either way, Paris is a place I’ll only ever pass through if I have to—like when I can’t avoid CDG or Roissy ;)
Je porte plainte contre le "monde moderne", c’est lui le monstre. Il détruit notre terre, il piétine l’âme des hommes."
Si tu n'as pas d'amour, embrasse la liberté
The least "arrogant": djalma (though he admits he’s from "l'île de France"—the only island covered in concrete and not even surrounded by water. Too bad, we could’ve had some peace)
Even though I’ve spent most of my life in Île-de-France and Paris, I don’t feel more connected to Paris than anywhere else. I don’t really have roots in the sense that I don’t care where people are from—whether they were "born somewhere" or come from this or that place. I don’t think it’s a sign of intelligence or insight to believe there are regions or even countries where people are inherently better than others. Life in big cities (like Paris, London, or Berlin) can bring out certain traits while suppressing others, just as rural life can develop strengths and highlight flaws. The "peasant" mentality isn’t all good! Prejudices (against foreigners, people from other regions, etc.) are often much stronger in the "countryside" than in cities. While rural folks may have common sense and practicality, they can also be stubborn and closed off to anything new… When I was a kid, I lived in underprivileged neighborhoods in northeast Paris where there was way more solidarity, mutual aid, and understanding—even among people from different ethnic backgrounds—than in other regions.
Oh right, because *you*, of course, are neither arrogant nor rotten, nor condescending nor a copycat, with that lovely rant?
While I *relatively* agree (note the nuance) with you that our living environment influences behavior, given your last post, I’ll gracefully refrain from asking where you live.
Qui veut chasser une migraine n'a qu'à boire toujours du bon
I’m also a former Parisian (a repentant one?) since I spent my first 21 years there (except for the first two, when I was born in Morocco and toddled around the southern Sahara like a true Berber nomad—living in a tent because my dad was working on road construction in the area at the time). After that, I moved around the Parisian suburbs and eventually left the region, which was becoming increasingly unbearable both in terms of human connections and quality of life. I spent some time in the Limousin area and near Toulouse, but I never really felt tied to my "origins". I’m happy wherever the place is good—geographically and humanly. Just a bit stuck in the Francophone world, even though I read and watch a lot of Anglo-Saxon works. I’ve relocated outside France because my home country made economic survival impossible (chronic unemployment since no one hires you past 40). But money isn’t the only reason—human relationships have become completely hollow. So no attachments left. I’m just a "French" citizen on paper because I have a passport and nationality.
And for those who’d trot out the old line "we live so well in France-the-world-envies-us"—how well would *they* live if the state granted them a lavish retirement of 81 € per month with zero job prospects anywhere?
"Si vous pensez que l'aventure est dangereuse, je vous propose d'essayer la routine... elle est mortelle." Paolo Coelho
Even if I were to say that Parisians or all human beings are "rotten" or bad (myself included, of course), I wouldn’t think of it in absolute terms. I believe that stupidity, like malice, isn’t the "intrinsic nature" of beings (humans included). As an idealist, I even think that living beings, including humans (and thus Parisians too ;)), have a "true nature" that’s good and honest. Maybe humans are "good in their natural state," as Rousseau thought, before being corrupted by life in society or urban environments.
And when I talk about people being "contemptuous" or "rotten" or use other harsh words, I attribute it only to their "surface ignorance," their ego, their suffering, their past experiences, and indeed, their living environment (no need to go as far as Lamarck’s theories, who, unlike Darwin, claimed that "function creates the organ" or that "the living environment shapes character or tendencies," but there’s some truth to it—environment influences minds and behaviors).
So, everyone is capable of change, whether they’re "country folk" or city dwellers, from here or elsewhere.
I don’t even think that a person from sub-Saharan Africa, the Maghreb, Asia, or anywhere else is fundamentally different from a Caucasian European, a Mongoloid, an Amerindian, or a Micronesian. We all share the same fundamental traits and nature, the same quest for happiness, the same suffering, desires, birth, life, death, etc. Ultimately, I believe all living beings share the same nature and face the same challenges.
So, I’m far from wanting to differentiate a Parisian from someone from the provinces, except "for show" 😉 or to provoke. Beyond clichés like "all rotten, all nice" (there are very nice Parisians and total jerks, just like everywhere), I think there are tendencies and behaviors that develop more or less depending on social or ethnic groups, etc.
Je porte plainte contre le "monde moderne", c’est lui le monstre. Il détruit notre terre, il piétine l’âme des hommes."
Si tu n'as pas d'amour, embrasse la liberté
Oh dear, you’ve all wandered into some strange debates...
I’m Parisian, and I’m always very kind to tourists—my English helps, of course. I’m a born-and-bred Parisian, proud of it, but totally outside the ‘norms.’ When I travel myself, I try to treat tourists the way I’d like to be treated when I’m a bit lost abroad. It’s just basic manners and a natural exchange, in my opinion.
Maybe the undergrowth of Parisian apartment blocks is better than the rough areas of the Bois de Boulogne and Vincennes?
After taking a look at Miss Fiji’s profile, I don’t see where you got the idea about her equestrian training spots—but oh well...!
Vietalier
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
Hello Fidjigirl,
Well done for pointing out the odd side of the objections raised here and there about exchanges—or spots—that don’t call for it in the slightest. Honestly, it really gets on my nerves how some people get lost in arguments sparked by a single word or phrase, completely straying from the original topic. I’d say if some folks have that much time to waste, they should be a bit more self-critical, clean up their own act, and stop PISSING OFF others—those who actually have a coherent point and stay on topic. I don’t mean to sound like a preachy moralist, but when things go too far, the lid blows off and all that pent-up frustration comes spilling out! (See my reply to Djalma.)
As for you, Fidjigirl, warm forum greetings to you, and see you soon.
Vietalier
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
😎You really made me laugh, especially since I didn’t even remember that photo with my great friend, the champion (now retired) Marathon Man... here in his stall before a race in Les Sables-d'Olonne: !!! haha !! Anyway, I love the Luberon—it’s been so long since I’ve been there...
At first, I didn’t catch the bit about the horse in the basement either, but I found it funny when I remembered my profile picture with that great champion and my very dear friend Marathon Man... in the photo, in his stall for his last French race in Les Sables-d'Olonne.
It’s true, people often fall apart these days—it’s the times we live in, a real disaster... Let’s face it, the internet is still a place where you can let loose without too much risk (though... that Face of Book I use a lot is apparently pretty Big Brother-ish, but I don’t care). Many of us lack real communication at a time when it’s supposed to be at its peak (unlimited this, BlackBerry that), everyone locked in their headphones, spilling their often crappy lives into the ears of every random person around. I see you in Vietnam—somewhere I’d love to go but hesitate because of the unbearable animal conditions I’ve heard about... Safe travels to you!
Good evening Fidjigirl,
I really like your way of writing and your humor—both are so lively.
About Vietnam, just so you know, I was born there and still speak the language fluently. I’ve been back 11 times since 1997 and have made or renewed some friendly, warm, and valuable connections for those who want to visit. Since ads aren’t allowed here on V-Forum, you can send me your email address in a private message so that, if you’re considering it, I can give you more details and tell you more about this country I know very well.
If you’d prefer to stay under the anonymity of V-Forum’s public messages, I won’t take it personally and will keep corresponding through this channel and your username.
Wishing you a great evening. Best regards— Vietalier.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
I really like your writing style and your humor—both very much alive.
For Vietnam, know that I was born there and still speak the language fluently; I’ve returned 11 times since 1997 and have built or rekindled friendly, warm, and valuable connections for those who want to visit. Since ads aren’t allowed on V-Forum, you can share your email details in a private message so that, if you’re considering it, I can give you more info and tell you more about this country I know very well.
If you’d prefer to stay anonymous on V-Forum’s public messages, rest assured I won’t take it personally and will keep corresponding through this channel and your username.
Wishing you a great evening—best regards, Vietalier.
At least we’re staying on topic here! (as you wanted)
I’d say that if some people have time to waste like this, they should be a little more self-critical, clean up their own act, and stop PISSING OFF others,
I think Djalma was joking—I didn’t take it literally (lol, as they say on Facebook).
I’d happily give you my email, but I don’t know how to use this forum’s ‘private mailbox.’ Could someone tell me how? I don’t think I’ll be going to Vietnam this year, but maybe in 2015 (if the world lets us).
As I mentioned, I’ve been told that animal conditions are really shocking for someone like me who’s sensitive to animal welfare. Seeing dog and cat markets might make me lose it… I’m hesitant to visit the country because of that.
Thanks, have a good evening or day
Good evening Fidjigirl,
For private messages, it's really easy:
Go to the "MY ACCOUNT" section (top right of the V-Forum window); there, keep the pointer pressed and scroll down to "MY PRIVATE MESSAGES", then click on "SEND A NEW PRIVATE MESSAGE", and finally write what you want to send, specifying the username of the person you want to contact.
For Vietnam, while it's true that dog is eaten there—especially in the North—you never see the breeding or slaughter sites. As for butcher shops selling this meat, they're discreet enough that tourists usually don’t notice them. Besides, this dish is a luxury, and its prices are only affordable for the well-off, who aren’t exactly everywhere. As for cats, they aren’t part of Vietnamese menus, and you rarely see them in homes since they’re not as prized as pets as they are here. That said, once you're there, you can ask your guides to avoid any places where you might see dog meat displays—thịt chó or thịt cầy in Vietnamese.
Here’s a start to your info; I hope to hear from you—privately—soon and wish you a good night.
Best regards — Vietalier.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
Since we're on a travel forum, I'm implying "traveling abroad is better than traveling in your own country."
I’d also like to correct the "why always think that..." part: it’s not "always" but "often"...
I think those who prefer "their own country" might need a certain sense of security, or perhaps they lack self-confidence or fear not being able to adapt to an environment different from their own. Maybe there are also some navel-gazers or nationalists who claim that everywhere else is hell, as J.P. Sartre might have written.
Going abroad, leaving your country, traveling far—it’s about seeking maximum disorientation and perhaps unconsciously escaping your worries, your daily life, running away: "drop everything and go far away." It’s also about being exposed to all those over-the-top tourist ads that make us dream and consume.
Personally, I travel—I go away—less far than before, due to financial constraints and also because I realize there are so many places to discover in Corsica, in France...
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
Hi Chnoupi,
I’m not concerned by the "ALWAYS" or the "OFTEN"—I just stick to observing the WHEN YOU CAN and the WHEN YOU WANT. Everything else—emotional states and convoluted philosophy—I leave entirely to those who want to indulge in it, as long as they don’t come bother me with it. Travel remains what it should be: the pleasure of somewhere else... whether 10,000 kilometers away or just beyond your doorstep.
Best to all on the forum from Vietalier.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
Hello Chnoupi,
Not affected by the "ALWAYS" or the "OFTEN," I simply observe the WHEN WE CAN and the WHEN WE WANT. Everything else—emotional states and convoluted philosophy—I leave entirely to those who want to indulge in it, as long as they don’t come bother me with it. Travel remains what it should be: the pleasure of somewhere else... whether 10,000 kilometers away or just beyond your doorstep.
Best regards to the Vietalier forum community.
Jean-Claude,
Can you explain your reaction that seems to hit a nerve? I don’t want to think I’m the cause of your frustration!
I do agree with you, though, about the pleasure of discovering somewhere else—sometimes just outside your home. Or even at home, by escaping "in your head," by dreaming... But that’s another story, one that goes beyond your "limits" and touches on issues like poor housing, for example: "when we can," as you highlight in bold, italics, and uppercase.
Warm regards,
Pat
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
In any case, there's one obvious fact: while France is producing more and more poor people (and, as if that weren't enough, it's massively importing them too), it's not possible to live in France, poorly but with dignity. Where I am (South America), there are loads of people living on small plots with shacks made of planks or poor-quality bricks. If they're careful (and I must admit that's not always the case) and keep things clean, and if they put flowers around their little shack, it immediately has a certain charm because human dignity is preserved. In France, you can only be homeless—that is, completely degraded. That's why I feel justified in saying that "ELSEWHERE is much better than your own country" if you're not a civil servant (well-paid! though there are also poor civil servants) or a CAC 40 rentier.
"Si vous pensez que l'aventure est dangereuse, je vous propose d'essayer la routine... elle est mortelle." Paolo Coelho
You're absolutely right, Antlia! We can also mention those who can't travel "far": the poor, some sick or disabled people. In my discussion, I skipped over this ever-growing population, even though it fits within the scope of the question.
I'm one of those lucky few who still have the choice to travel "elsewhere," "far away." Even with my modest retirement that gives me a roof over my head, food, and decent healthcare—I’m content with it, yet I’m not happy!
While pointing an accusatory finger at the "big shots" of our world: MPs, senators, high-ranking politicians, government officials, religious leaders, and corporate bosses... I know I’ll ruffle some feathers, but I stand by it 😉
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
It’s true that at our age, we’ve kept our energy and critical thinking (I know a lovely retired woman who helps young Argentinians with their school life in some remote village in the Atacama that I jokingly call "Triffouilly-les-vigognes"). The real question is: today’s young people, who have no prospects and know it, would rather rot where they are in France than get off their backsides to see if the grass is greener elsewhere than the yellowed straw of their bitter homeland. And teaming up with a seasoned adventurer? Not only does it not reassure them (it’s totally understandable to have a knot in your stomach when you’re diving into the unknown alone and inexperienced), but it’s the ultimate taboo.
"Si vous pensez que l'aventure est dangereuse, je vous propose d'essayer la routine... elle est mortelle." Paolo Coelho
As much as my reaction might come off as a tad rude, I stand by it and here’s why:
You can, just like me, read plenty of posts that clutter up V-Forum, where their authors grab a word or a sentence from someone else’s message, then rush to expound on it, veering off-topic and missing the point entirely. Along the way, they drop these long-winded philosophy treatises or outright gibberish that... DRIVE US UP THE WALL!!! — That said, this last bit was only aimed at those folks and wasn’t meant to lump you in with that crowd of nuisances, who should really think twice and show a little more respect for others who end up tripping over their ramblings.
When it comes to using bold and italics, I wanted to highlight that wanting and being able are personal choices that can be shared—but not necessarily. I respect everyone’s FREE WILL in that regard.
On another note, I took an interested look at your profile on VForum. Your eclecticism reflects a healthy curiosity that I share. Let me explain further: stories about cuckolds who are beaten and happy (outside of boulevard theater) don’t interest me, nor do tales of reckless stunts abroad where people act tough for no good reason. I’d much rather observe life in general and engage with those who have common sense and goodwill—no hidden agendas, no airs, no Louis XV-style flourishes.
Your trip along the Huguenot Trail will no doubt be a chance to revisit some painful pages of history. Will you share your experiences in future travel journals? — I’m not particularly religious, but it turns out my maternal grandfather was a Huguenot. I’ve also worked in the Cévennes and Languedoc—deeply Huguenot lands—and I’ve read and reread JP. Chabrol, who wrote so eloquently about the Reformation and the dragonnades ordered by Louis XIV. I’ve followed his Fools of God step by step, a story set in an area where I used to pick porcini and chanterelle mushrooms at the first autumn rains.
Anyway, Chnoupi, now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, I’d be happy to chat with you again.
Best regards— Vietalier/Jean-Claude.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
Me or someone else (it's true that a personal relationship is where subjectivity lies—you either want to be with someone or you don’t) it’s all the same: they don’t take off. So my question isn’t psychological but sociological. Youth has found itself trapped in this category, in Hegel’s sense, pure commercial reification, then political when the State realized there was a way to slice up any protest that would’ve been impossible if it had stood united.
"Si vous pensez que l'aventure est dangereuse, je vous propose d'essayer la routine... elle est mortelle." Paolo Coelho
I didn’t get it, but you must be right to say all that, especially when it’s all the same. 🤪 Or maybe my neuron is tired before being restocked with wild boar protein (it’s cooking right now). 😏
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
No big deal! Anyway, Khmerkhmer (red?) confirms my thoughts: it’s become awkward to have any kind of relationship, even a vacation one in my case (what would I have done with an overworked executive who only had 10 days off? You need time on a boat. With the second deckhand, we spent 1 month and 3 weeks together) when there’s an age gap. This ideology is actually pretty recent. Back in my younger days, my interest was entomology, and I’d go on outings with all sorts of people, including retirees who were both the most knowledgeable and the funniest. And you just have to reread Jules Verne to see that deckhands or apprentices lived with other adults who weren’t their mom and dad.
Good grief. But NO magic potion! You fell into it when you were little ;)
"Si vous pensez que l'aventure est dangereuse, je vous propose d'essayer la routine... elle est mortelle." Paolo Coelho
After my flambéed wild boar cooked in red wine, we really stuffed ourselves—my friends even had to tack their way home. A good Hermitage, ice cream for dessert drenched in Marie-Galante rum, and some homemade myrtle liqueur to cut the grease. Time for bed now! Life’s tough, huh? 😏
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
Epicurean as well, or maybe just a gourmet and food lover?
Well done there too—gluttony being a wonderful flaw, I indulge in it with pleasure, though I sometimes have to watch my sugar levels, which reins in some of my wildest cravings and calms my taste buds!
Good night to those who enjoy good company and love sharing certain moments with certain others.
Best wishes from Vietalier.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
🙂 Hi and thanks for this topic " Why always think that "ELSEWHERE" is better than one’s country?" I’m proud to be able to answer this because there are so many things people don’t realize about their native country—its culture, its benefits, religions, customs, childhood friends, for example in Senegal the extended family (grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, sisters, brothers, etc....) you can’t forget it because it stays etched in your memories. On the contrary, it’s the discovery and the fact of being too anxious that leads us to other countries. They aren’t better than your own country, but life is life, and it’s because of parents and family surroundings that we always think of our dear homeland.
I’M SORRY IF I WROTE ANYTHING RUDE
Far from writing rude things, you bring up an idea in the debate that highlights cultural differences in how we view family ties.
Many of those who speak up in similar discussions also leave to break those ties, or because those ties aren’t strong enough.
You, on the other hand, say that those very ties are a reason to come back...
Thanks Kola for this little reply, but I’m really touched by what you just said. These days, young people—us included—tend to follow our destiny without realizing that parents are part of it, which isn’t right. I’m Senegalese, but I respect all parents, whether they’re African or Asian. What matters is that they’re human beings like us.
Since the debate is opening up and moving beyond the question in the title...
Go see if elsewhere is better than home: most narrow-minded people, stuck in their own truths, are those who haven’t traveled and can’t put things into perspective. They’re manipulated by their media (TV, etc.) and hearsay, forming their idea of elsewhere.
As for traveling "in your head," that’s also creating an elsewhere that’s often just a dream tainted by utopia.
"Thinking" that elsewhere is better than your country is forming a negative opinion of home without ever leaving it.
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
It's true that the idea of "France is the most beautiful country in the world" is a bit of a shortcut. What does "most beautiful country in the world" even mean? A lot of people think that. Even here, when you start expressing some reservations about certain things in our country that leave something to be desired, you’ve got a whole bunch of die-hard Gauls who come to defend the beloved motherland.
The worst is when a foreigner tells us the truth about our country. We don’t like hearing the truth, and it’s like, "Yeah, but you’re not French, so shut up." I kind of feel that way. We love to criticize, but when it comes to our own country, things get complicated.
Ils ne savaient pas que c’était impossible, alors ils l’ont fait.
Most narrow-minded people, stuck in their own truths, are those who haven’t traveled and can’t put things into perspective. They’re manipulated by their media (TV, etc.) and hearsay, shaping their idea of what elsewhere is like.
The opposite is just as true, so I invite you to reconsider your definition of "narrow-minded."
Qui veut chasser une migraine n'a qu'à boire toujours du bon
Personally, I tend to find it somewhat reassuring, even if it also annoys me when a foreign tourist gets mobbed just for daring to say negative things about the welcome in "France" (?!)
It’s actually the most human thing. We criticize our family because we love them, but we’d be ready to fight anyone who dared do the same without being part of it. In short, it’s the same reflex.
The opposite would be illogical...
Vivre pleinement, c'est rester libre de ses choix.
Hey, thanks for your little message—you’re absolutely right, but not everyone is the same. Some people feel like they’ve deserted their country because life is tough there, while others just don’t care about the high cost of living.
When some are sleeping with one eye open, others are in a deep sleep.
I’ve lived through this phenomenon myself—I’ve suffered, but that doesn’t stop me from having my country etched in my heart.
As a result, they end up thinking that going abroad will make them rich or that money is just lying around. That’s why they react this way.
Sorry if I went off on a tangent with my thoughts.
Opinions can be negative... but that’s also because we step out of our comfort zone!!! Preferring other places isn’t about blind negativity or being anti-France—it’s about the experience that shows us there’s also good, beauty, and everything in between in different contexts that can absolutely charm us. Let’s move past French chauvinism...!!! and the stifling idea that you *have* to live in your own country to fit some "normal" mold. There’s nothing negative about it—it’s just the mindset of those who choose to believe it!
Hi there!
A very good point... but every country has its own joys and sorrows, and a traveler often only sees the bright side—the smiles and kindness of the locals. Sometimes, we don’t necessarily notice the hidden struggles beneath those smiles.
Reading these posts made me think of a joke...
It’s the story of a guy who’s been in heaven for a little while and is seriously fed up. Everything is calm and peaceful. Nothing ever happens in heaven. He thinks he’d like to take a little trip to hell just to see what it’s like. So, he goes to ask St. Peter if he could take a tour downstairs. St. Peter checks his good conduct record and sees that the guy has never caused any trouble—he’s more like a model angel, keeps his little cloud spotless, and his wings are always impeccably white. So, permission is granted for a one-week stay in hell.
The guy takes the elevator down to hell. His visa is in order, so they let him in. And what does he see? A wild party! People singing, drinking, smoking, playing, naked dancers—basically, an amazing vibe. He joins the fun and has a blast for a week. Then, it’s back to heaven.
The guy gets bored again after a few centuries and can’t take it anymore. He needs some action. So, he asks St. Peter if he can move to hell permanently. A saddened St. Peter asks if that’s really what he wants. The guy says it’s his deepest desire.
So, okay, exit permit granted.
The guy heads back to hell, and as soon as he walks through the door, a horde of demons grabs him, throws him on the grill, whips him—basically, puts him through every torture imaginable. Once he regains his senses a bit, he asks:
"But... what’s going on? It wasn’t like this the first time I came here! Where are the game rooms, the naked dancers, the awesome vibe? Why are you treating me so badly? Why isn’t it the same as during my first visit?"
Then a demon, with a big, carnivorous smile, says:
"You mustn’t confuse tourism with immigration."
Another possible ending:
Then a demon, with a big, carnivorous grin, says:
"Yeah, on your first visit, you got the show home."
Hello Ouzbek Témur,
Just for a laugh, I’d say you’re ripe for it. — (Ha, ha! Good one, right?)
That ridiculous statement—I’m guessing your Témur comes from Timour, or even Timur Lan (Tamerlane)? Either way, you’re incredibly lucky to live at the crossroads of Central Europe and Asia, practically on the Silk Road, with its sumptuous carpets and mosques adorned with mosaics whose art has never been equaled. — The culture, from what little I know, is just as rich, whether pre-Islamic or what came after. Anyway, here’s somewhere else that’s worth seeing up close and hearing fragments of its history—without trying to find a place that’s better than home.
Best regards, and see you soon, maybe? — Vietalier, who was born a little farther away, on the shores of the South China Sea, in central Vietnam.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
Hello Jean Claude "Vietalier",
Thanks for this humorous reaction—I really appreciate it! 😎
My Temur actually comes from that historical figure, Temur, Timour, Tamerlan, or Temur Leng—those last two names aren’t exactly a compliment to our national hero! You know why? When Amir Temur (the name we currently use here) invaded Turkey, the Turks nicknamed him that to highlight his physical disability. Tamerlan or Temur Leng means Temur the Lame! :)
As for my maturity, I think I’ve been around for quite some time (alas!) heh heh heh...
You’re absolutely right—not only will this elsewhere (which is MINE [ :)]) enchant you with its history, but it’ll also fascinate you with its present and its people’s incredible hospitality!
Going back to Temur’s story, there’s another reason I chose this username... [ :)]
See you soon in Uzbekistan (you’re very welcome) or elsewhere—who knows! ?
The "Obtuse" People: people who lack "finesse" in their value judgments. Did I answer your invitation?
I think you understood the meaning of my statement. To use another metaphor, I could have written "people who wear blinders"...
"Celui qui a atteint son but a manqué tout le reste"
The worst is when a foreigner tells us the truth about our country.
So, are there people who supposedly know the absolute truth about a country?
"Le touriste apparait comme le principal agent de diffusion du mépris anti touristique. Plus le touriste se voit en miroir de l'autre, plus il le déteste".
Hi Temur,
A quick first reply to thank you for yours and for your invitation.
Indeed, this central land has been making me dream for quite some time now. I’ll have the chance to elaborate more later, but I’ll just mention, regarding "lame ducks," that France had one of... variable stature: Talleyrand, who served kings and emperors—while serving himself first!
Best wishes and see you soon.— Vietalier.
Cela dépend de l'humeur du moment et va de Jean-Claude à Viet à lier.
The worst is when a foreigner tells us the truth about our country.
So, are there people who have the truth about a country?
When the same remarks or observations come from an outside perspective, it’s worth listening to them and taking them into account. At least we can get closer to the truth, even if we don’t know it exactly.
Ils ne savaient pas que c’était impossible, alors ils l’ont fait.
Voyager pourquoi? 1- Pour quitter ce pays Pour ma part, je commence vraiment à prendre la France et les francais en grippe...En effet, ce pays me gonfle de…
Une fois n’est pas coutume, je vais parler de mon propre pays, la France, où j’ai fait récemment un voyage assez court à partir de Bangkok (où je vis). Je…
Rentrée de voyage depuis hier, à chaque fois, j'ai la même sensation de revenir dans cet horrible train train quotidien! je ne suis pourtant pas partie très…
Deux questions qui me turlupinent... J'ai toujours pensé que les voyages rendent plus tolérants. Je me disais avant, qu'à force de partir et de m'interresser à…
Comme c'est un site francais sur les voyages que je découvre par hasard j'aimerais si possible m'y exprimer sur l'attitude des touristes francais à l'étranger…
Hello everyone on this forum!
I know in advance that what I'm about to say here won't please everyone, but honesty is a virtue, isn't it?
Here's the thing: for many years now, I've noticed a habit in French-speaking posts of using abbreviations left and right, as if to show that we're "in the know." Let me explain with a few examples:
- - In discussions about Peru, I see "Aguas" for "Aguas Calientes." And if it's Mexico, well, it'll be "Aguas" for "Aguascalientes"!
- - For Guatemala, "travelers" will say "Guaté." Come on, saying "Guatemalas" would maybe be the undeniable sign that you know nothing about the country???
- - Back from Indonesia, many will talk about how familiar they've become with the country's language: "bahasa." Of course, everyone will know what you're talking about, but it still gets on my nerves because the language (one of the many languages) of Indonesia is "bahasa Indonesia." "Bahasa" actually means "language," and you'll find this word of Indian origin ‘Bhāṣā’ (it's Sanskrit originally) outside Indonesia too: in Thailand, for example, any language will be "phasa" as in "phasa thai" (official Thai), "phasa isan" (what's spoken in northeastern Thailand), "phasa angkrit" = English, etc.
Am I an incorrigible nitpicker? Maybe. But I'd also find it ridiculous if a foreigner came and told me they visited "Monte" during their trip to France, when it was actually Monte Carlo.
I read a lot in English and don't think I've encountered such a habit among English speakers.
Who’d like to share their best and worst travel memories in a few lines?
For me, it’s watching the TAJ MAHAL at sunrise and getting chased by dogs at the top of a mountain pass in GREECE on the way back from ISTANBUL.
THANKS GUYS
This is my 15,000th post, and it's a message I would have preferred never to write.
Patrick—Yangguizi—won’t be returning from his trek in Uganda. His health betrayed him in the mountains.
Like many of you, I laughed until I couldn’t anymore at his travel stories. I met him in Shanghai, then in Istanbul... We scoured restaurants—he was an incredible expert on world cuisines. We relived Korea, China. Always brilliant, so sharp, so funny, so down-to-earth. Being even a little bit his friend was something to be proud of. I think I envied him.
Patrick is still out there, of course...
He found his happiness running across the world. He’s on his path. He never doubted that "the traveler doesn’t even know if he’ll return one day."
Not sure this would’ve suited him, but his departure devastates me.
Alright,
Farewell, you foreign devil. Safe travels.
hello to all travelers with their eyes wide open to the desert...
I’ve always wondered what I was "doing" on this earth. And why my father, who died a few months after I was born—a former youngest French resistance fighter—joined the First Saharan Motorized Company in Atar and spent the rest of his life repairing army engines in Algeria, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali (which didn’t exist under that name back then), Morocco, and finally Algeria, where my mother was born and raised. (Believe me, it’s not "cool" being the child of a soldier in a country occupied by France, and even less so the child of a "pied-noir.")
Of course, I never got an answer: the dead don’t talk, and the army doesn’t either.
But here’s the thing—I had photos...
So naturally, one day I hit the road. I wanted to see, to understand.
It’s thanks to VF that I was able to do a little research on crossing the Morocco-Mauritania border, and I’m grateful to its members, just as I’m grateful to all those who welcomed me on the road for 14 years.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if I should talk about this or not...
It turns out the Mauritanians changed my life by asking for my help... And that started as early as February 2012... (Did I owe them something? No answer to that question.)
Ah, the irony—they saw me coming. But when you’re handed sick children and begged to do something, what would you have done? I’d worked in a hospital, so I knew a bit about the rules to follow. I didn’t hesitate.
And well, over all these years, I met doctors, surgeons, and together we organized care, evacuations of children, training for surgeons—even trying to stop children from having to travel outside their country. It was never easy. I’d like to thank those who supported us, as well as *La Chaîne de l’Espoir*, *La Fondation Face au Monde*, and everyone who built bridges between our two countries.
Unfortunately, despite the constant efforts of Mauritanian doctors and surgeons, some children couldn’t be helped in time. Today, I want to talk about four siblings—orphans of their mother—suffering from congenital glaucoma causing irreversible blindness. Their case was entrusted to me in 2020, just weeks before the big lockdown. We couldn’t do anything for them then, but when their father asked me for a gift, I rushed to my computer and wrote a story.
Through a tale, the children take a great journey, explore their country, and fulfill a dream. I never thought this book would be published—it was, in 2023.
This book pays tribute to Mauritania. It’s a message for those who know nothing about the hardships of life there, carrying both the harshness and beauty of an immense desert where you can travel by 4x4, bike, on foot, or by camel in complete safety. It bears witness to the kindness of Mauritanians toward travelers.
As a woman traveling alone in my vehicle—a now-rusted old Mercedes that no longer runs—I had the most beautiful encounters of my life there (I’ve seen other parts of the world...). The blind children of Choum, Atar, Nouadhibou, and Nouakchott will forever be in my heart.
Volunteer readers transcribed the book into a free audio version for the visually impaired. It’s available in sound libraries in France, the *Fondation Valentin Haüy*, and the Swiss Romande library.
I made my last trip to Mauritania in my old 4x4 to distribute the book everywhere, especially to its heroes and the school for the visually impaired in Nouakchott.
After that, I thought it was time to close the chapter because I no longer have the means or the strength to travel.
My publishers chose this title for it: *The Blue Eyes of the Desert*.
This publication helped a mission of Swiss volunteer ophthalmologists come to operate on glaucomas in Mauritania. I’m thrilled because they come back every year!
This adventure is ending, yes—everything must come to an end—but ultimately, it was born here, on the VF site!! So yes, I had to say it: THANK YOU!!!!!
Hi everyone,
I’m Loulou, a French expat who’s been living in Southeast Asia for about fifteen years, currently in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. A passionate walker at heart, I’ve trekked in Nepal (Thorung La, Mardi Himal), India, Vietnam, and I’m still planning new hikes (Char Dham, Langtang, Annapurna).
I’ve just published my first travel journal, recounting three months of walking and encounters across India. A portion of the sales goes to an educational center I support in Kep, for children whose parents work in the salt marshes.
I’m also working on a second book about Nepal with a musician friend, focusing on the Mardi Himal trek—two independent perspectives on the same journey.
Happy to swap stories with you about the Himalayas, India, Southeast Asia, or just the urge to hit the road and walk far from home.
Safe travels,
Loulou
Hi! It was totally by chance that I stumbled upon VoyageForum (an ad online and a story lol), and I’ve been reading some really old posts from 2011 about Thai massage schools—discussions on how to get by, accommodation, prices, etc. It reminded me of my own experience: I kept things simple by staying with a local family during my entire trip. I only shared all the expenses with them, which, I’ll admit, was super cheap… and I often traveled with them, which naturally opened a lot of doors for me. To start, at the school in Salaya, my Thai friend immediately connected me with Teacher Phong (the school’s mentor and teacher of teachers, a former monk). I was supposed to join a group session with other foreigners, but for some reason I don’t know, I got two days of private lessons for free with this expert… incredible! And on top of that, he loved France! It was an amazing experience. I "discovered" massage by chance—the Thai family just told me: "Try it, you’ll see!" (I’d had a pretty intense massage in the capital before 😅… but the next day, I felt unbelievably great!))
Every morning, I’d take a taxi (chosen by the Thai family at prices that beat all the competition) to this school—I’ve forgotten the name of the little village now… right in the heart of the countryside. Then, in the evenings, I’d keep practicing massage on all the family members… and they’d teach me Thai at the same time!))
Since then, I’ve practiced a bit, with lots of positive feedback. Following Teacher Phong’s advice—he thought my pressure was deep, firm, and precise—he strongly encouraged me to take this seriously.
I love Thailand so much. It’s a whole different way of living… and it’s a real blessing, even if I couldn’t live there full-time. Anyway, that was an unforgettable memory, and sometimes the Thai family and I still say hi—from 2011, 2013… right up to today!
"It seems to me that poverty would be less painful in the sun" wrote Aznavour...
Not sure...😕 Who can prove that people in hot countries are happier than others?
What do you think?
Is it better to live in Montpellier than in Lille?
Are the Pygmies happier than the Inuit?
Are Canadians less happy than the people of Louisiana?
Are there more French expats in hot countries?
And your travels? Do you choose your destinations based on the climate?
Do you rejoice when a bit of sunshine appears?
Hi everyone, just this once I’m not posting for a travel story, but to share a thought for Venezuela.
If you didn’t know—since it’s not making headlines—the country was hit by two 7.5-magnitude earthquakes last week. Over 2,200 people have died, more than 50,000 are missing, and some coastal towns have been completely destroyed.
Maybe when the scale of the humanitarian crisis becomes clear, our media will cover it a bit more... especially since earthquakes with this many casualties usually make the front page, but there’s been nothing in France.
So here’s a thought for this country, which, whatever you think of its politics, is a true jewel of South America, both for its landscapes and its people.
hi there
I’d like to invite you to discover my coastal province in central Vietnam: Quang Ngai.
This year, my province has really improved its infrastructure—mountains, countryside, and sea are all authentic here.
No harassers or thieves, and no Russians either.
A local lunch costs around 1 €.
A *** hotel room is about 25 €, and you can find hotels right on My Khe Beach.
We have a specialty: *banh xeo*—10 crepes for just 1.5 €.
You can rent motorbikes to explore the province and maybe visit the many ethnic minorities.
I live here—I’m not selling anything, but I can help if needed (my father-in-law is a traditional Vietnamese doctor and he’s very skilled).
Hi everyone! 😉
I’m Typhaine, 35 years old. Five years ago, I left France for a solo round-the-world trip—no planes, just a van, hitchhiking, cycling, and even a canoe in the Amazon! Today, I work as a naturalist guide in Argentine Patagonia.
Wherever I go, my compass stays the same: observing and photographing wildlife, which I deeply admire and respect.
My project: I’d love to share this experience through a sustainable, authentic, and immersive nature tourism initiative. But to build something meaningful, I need to understand how other nature enthusiasts experience their own adventures.
If you:
Are over 20 years old
Have a true passion for Nature
Have already taken at least one trip lasting more than 3 nights (in your country or abroad) in your life
Promise: I’m not selling anything, this isn’t marketing. Your answers are 100% anonymous and will only help me shape this wild project.
A huge thank you to everyone for your help and kindness! Looking forward to chatting in this thread 😛
(Dear admins, this is purely a collaborative effort for my project study, with no commercial purpose. Thank you so much for your support!)
Photo: Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis), female on the left and her cub on the right. Photo taken by me in Alaska, Denali National Park.
It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.
A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question.
They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???
Not even a simple thank you!!!
From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕
Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????
I spent 3 weeks in Bali last summer (+ 3 nights on Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java). So I wanted to see what ChatGPT could suggest for comparison...
Here’s the prompt I gave:
"You’re a local expert guide for Bali.
- Plan a 20-day itinerary for Bali with a side trip to Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java without staying overnight.
- I’m traveling with my wife, and I love visiting historical sites, hiking, relaxing at the beach, snorkeling, and exploring rice terraces...
- For the duration of the stay, I don’t want more than 8 places to sleep, and I’d like to stay at least 2 days at each stop to avoid unpacking too often. Except for the last night, where I’m okay with just one night near the airport.
- I prefer neighborhoods that are walkable and try to avoid typical tourist traps, though I don’t want to miss the must-see spots. So suggest a mix of iconic sites and hidden gems.
- Recommend hotels or guesthouses with a budget of 50 to 100 € per night, including breakfast. Make suggestions in areas popular with travelers, specifying the vibe (I prefer quiet), and consider safety and proximity to attractions.
- For lunch and dinner, suggest two to three restaurants that are well-rated by customers.
- Give me a day-by-day program with details on travel times, visiting times for each point of interest, and recommendations for transportation (taxi, train, bike, etc.).
Estimate the total cost of the trip, including accommodations, food, transportation, and activities, and suggest two tips for saving money in each category.
- Don’t make anything up—be realistic about travel times, take into account the opening dates and hours of sites, and give me the entry fees for places to visit.
- Ask me all the questions until you’re 95% sure you understand what’s being asked. Don’t generate your response until you’ve understood."
The AI asked for a few clarifications:
"Great request—I can build you a really optimized and enjoyable itinerary, but to be 95% sure I hit the mark, I need a few key clarifications (this will really influence the pace, areas, and accommodations)."
In the end, it proposed a program very close to what we actually did.
I’ll skip its accommodation and restaurant suggestions...
Its proposal:
"Ubud (4 nights) => we did 5 nights
Sidemen (2 nights)
Amed (3 nights) => we’d planned 2 nights
Gili Meno (3 nights) => we did Gili between Sidemen and Amed
Munduk (3 nights) => we did 2 nights before Pemuteran
Pemuteran (3 nights) with Ijen => we did 4 nights
Sanur (2 nights + 1 last night) => we chose Jatiluwih instead of Sanur
It suggested "activities" (and accommodations too):
IN UBUD:
- Walk around central Ubud (1–2h)
- Campuhan Ridge Walk
- Tegalalang Rice Terrace
- Tirta Empul
- Gunung Kawi
- Massage / market / slow café
IN SIDEMEN:
- Rice terrace hike (2–3h)
- Cooking class
IN AMED:
- Snorkeling
- Japanese Shipwreck
- Beach + relaxation
- Volcano sunset
ON GILI:
- Snorkeling at Gili Meno Turtle Point, Nest Underwater Statues
IN MUNDUK:
- Jungle & waterfall hike - Munduk Waterfall + Melanting Waterfall
- Loop: 3–4h (perfect for your level)
- Ulun Danu Bratan Temple
- Twin Lakes
IN PEMUTERAN
- Snorkeling: Menjangan Island
For Kawah Ijen, it detailed the day well:
👍 from Pemuteran = best possible option
12 PM: leave hotel (we left at 10 PM)
1 PM: ferry
3 PM: arrival in Java + transfer
11 PM: start ascent
2 AM–6 AM: volcano
Return to Bali around 11 AM–12 PM (we got back at 4 PM)
👍 still very intense, but doable with an agency
💰 ~80–120 €/person all-inclusive
IN SANUR:
- Relaxation
- Quiet beach
- Proximity to airport (30 min)"
I’ve kept the habit of blowing my nose in the sink and then washing my hands—a custom I picked up in India. Sometimes, non-travelers are shocked when they catch me in the act... 🤪
Also, when I run out of toilet paper, it doesn’t bother me—unless I’ve got company over... 🤪
Just got back from walking a friend’s dog (while they’re on vacation), wearing a djellaba and Tibetan boots... 😏😏😏 Oh, for sure, if I’d run into locals, I probably would’ve shocked them? 😏
Anyway, as long as I’m not spitting on the floor at a restaurant or squatting on the side of a highway with a water bottle in hand...
After taking a little trip around the world, I came back a few months ago with an idea in mind.
I mostly do diving, and I love observing animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.
During the trip, I realized it was quite complicated to know where and when to see certain species.
For example:
where to dive with sharks or manta rays
where you might get a chance to swim with whales
I even discovered thresher sharks during my trip… I didn’t even know this species existed before, even though they’re incredible to see.
We spent a ton of time searching for info all over the place, especially on social media, without ever getting a clear picture.
So I started putting all this together on my own, in the form of a map, to make it easier to visualize where to go depending on the seasons.
I recently put a first version online (it’s called Fauneya).
There are probably mistakes, inconsistencies, or things to improve, and that’s partly why I’m posting here.
I’d really love to know how you all go about planning this kind of trip.
As part of my Master’s thesis, I’m currently conducting a public survey on a topic that concerns all of us when planning a trip: artificial intelligence and the role of human contact in travel planning.
These days, we’re using more and more digital tools to find ideas, compare options, and book trips... but is the role of human advisors still essential? At what moments? And for what types of trips?
The survey is anonymous and takes about 7 minutes.
It’s aimed at anyone who travels (or has traveled) for leisure, whether you plan everything yourself or go through an agency.
While browsing the forum to gather info for my upcoming trip to Thailand, I often see the terms "traveler," "great traveler," and also "tourist"—so what’s the nuance for you?
I've traveled quite a bit in Vietnam over the past few years—from the southern delta to bustling cities and even some small islands—but what really sticks with me is the north, the high mountains.
Up there, there's something different—maybe slower, more raw. The morning markets with ethnic groups, women in traditional clothes, the colors...
The stilt houses, kids following you and laughing for no reason, the terraced rice fields—it almost feels unreal at times, so vast and quiet, yet so human and simple.
You often hear that Sapa has become too touristy, and that's partly true, especially in the center. But as soon as you move a little farther away, everything changes quickly. The landscapes open up, encounters feel more natural, and you rediscover something truly authentic.
I think it's that contrast that struck me—the difference between what you imagine before going and what you actually discover when you take the time.
And you—what memory do you hold onto from Vietnam? A particular place that touched you more than others?
Hello,
We’re finalizing the plans for our upcoming trip to China in May 2025. The second-to-last stop will be in Zhangjiajie, where we’ve planned to stay for 2 full days before heading to Shanghai.
We’re traveling solo using local transport and have arranged to stay in the city of Zhangjiajie.
We’ve seen that there’s a lot to see:
Tianmen Mountain, the Grand Canyon and the glass bridge, Zhangjiajie National Park, and that the sites are quite far apart with fairly expensive entry fees.
We’re thinking of dedicating one day to the national park and the Grand Canyon (glass bridge) and one day to Tianmen Mountain.
But we’re not sure if this plan is realistic—any thoughts would be much appreciated!
I should be serving a warming drink to the participants in the discussion about gardens and parks that provide us with beautiful photos, I could mention the delicious buttery scent wafting from bakeries in the thread about returning to France, but my heart, its powerful pulse that nourishes my entire being, is elsewhere.
Dasht-e Lut, Yazd, Esfahan, Bam, Kerman, Qeshm, Hormuz—a melody, a prayer at the heart of desire.
A dream, an unattainable fantasy? No. Not anymore.
A very serious Italian travel agency is organizing this trip for 6 people this winter. I’m signed up, I’m going, I’m living. Maybe.
"But you’re completely crazy!!!!"
I know... I know that every civilization, every society has a vital need to create scapegoats to define and justify itself, pathetically. And Iran is one of them, top of the list. I laugh or sigh, and it doesn’t bother me.
But that unchanging red, deep red and garnet, so beautiful in itself, in all the Western chancelleries repeats, whispers, shouts: don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, you’re putting yourself in danger and we can’t do anything for you. You’ll be turned into mere bargaining chips, into arguments for endless negotiations. Fear must be instilled, its power absolutely preserved, no concessions made to the enemy. The information (how many French hostages, real or fake, compared to the number of travelers?) is always lacking.
Traveling becomes a merciless confrontation between desire, the vital pulse, and anxiety, its ghosts.
Hi everyone, here’s our itinerary. Arriving on the evening of December 13th. Departing on January 7th.
Thanks in advance for your tips and valuable feedback.
Manila – 1 night
Coron – 4 nights
Coron to El Nido cruise – 2 nights
El Nido – 4 nights
Port Barton – 5 nights
Flight from Puerto Princesa to Vigan
Vigan – 2 nights
Sagada – 2 nights
Banaue – 2 nights
Bagabag – 1 night
Manila – 1 night
I’ve only booked the flight to Manila and the Manila/Coron flight so far. Is it possible to book boat trips, accommodations, and the Puerto Princesa flight last-minute?
Really disappointed with Costa Rica! Pura vida? The scam of the century!
(Costa Rica pure emptiness).
The country where animals are free and people are in cages.
3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer.
Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness.
My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place.
On the main routes, we visited:
San José
Alajuela
Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side)
Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side)
And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched.
He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown.
What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor.
At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José:
It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken.
On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox.
From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire.
Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets.
Bars with security guards out front.
I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel.
The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses.
The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in.
A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park.
Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further.
We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it.
A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces.
A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures.
But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business.
Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse!
According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable.
Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos.
A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park!
A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park.
The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color.
Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded!
Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30.
The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches.
As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves.
A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!"
For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex!
The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for?
For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places.
In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs:
Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you.
For everyone else: run!
Hello,
Since the war between Russia and Ukraine, nothing is simple anymore for traveling to Belarus due to sanctions.
No more direct flights from the EU to Minsk.
Driving is a huge hassle, especially crossing through Poland at the only open border in Brest—you can wait 2, 3, or even 4 days just to get through by car.
The least painful driving option is to come via Lithuania and cross at the only open border, with a minimum wait time of 8 hours, sometimes up to 20 hours or more!!
Controls are very strict and annoying on both the Lithuanian and Belarusian sides. Avoid bringing alcohol, food, or cigarettes—everything will end up in the trash, especially when leaving Belarus for Vilnius, where the Lithuanians are tough, even with EU citizens.
The joy I once knew when visiting my wife in Minsk is sadly over—it’s now a real ordeal.
The fastest solution is to fly. My wife travels to France by taking a bus to Kaunas in Lithuania, where you can catch a flight (though not daily) to Paris Beauvais or Charleroi in Belgium with Ryanair, for example.
For the return trip, it’s the same: a flight to Kaunas and then a direct bus from the airport to Minsk.
The bus crossing is quicker than driving—the 250 km journey, including border checks, takes about 6 to 8 hours for buses leaving Lithuania around midnight, but controls are still strict at the border.
The biggest challenge is finding flight schedules that align with the bus routes between the two countries, given the unpredictable border crossing times.
Now, my wife travels via Charleroi in Belgium (near Brussels), and you can take a train to Paris. Alternatively, you can fly into Beauvais and take a bus to Paris (Porte Maillot).
For those driving, note that EU insurance and assistance policies no longer work in Belarus or Russia. You’ll need to get local insurance, usually limited to third-party liability (I don’t think full coverage exists?), as well as mandatory medical insurance. This is available at the border.
You now have to pay highway tolls—no more BELTOLL boxes. Instead, you pay a flat fee for the duration of your stay. Stop at the first gas station after crossing from Lithuania to fill up on fuel and cigarettes.
From what I know, Lithuania bans carrying more than 60 € in cash, but there’s no limit for USD (though it’s capped at $10,000??).
With a Visa card, you can now withdraw 1,000 rubles per week (about 270 €)—two months ago, it was only 500 rubles!!
For now, you can still pay by card in shops and gas stations.
However, major retailers like KORONA (which may be Russian-owned??) no longer accept foreign Visa cards.
Unfortunately, the additional sanctions announced by the U.S. on August 5, 2025, against Russia—and possibly Belarus—aren’t promising for the future.
After 20 years of visiting Belarus, I’m truly saddened to see the joy of living in this country with my wonderful wife turn into such a bleak situation, all because of human folly.
Hi everyone!
I’m putting together our travel itinerary for Veneto at the end of April. And the more I look and research potential sites to visit, the more I find!
We’ll only be there for a week—my family and I—including 3 days in Venice. So we have to make some choices...
I plan to rent a car when we arrive in Venice and head straight to Bergamo, which would be our first stop. We’d leave the car at the airport when we return to Venice so we can explore the city at our leisure.
What do you think:
1 night in Bergamo (a 2h15 drive from Venice airport),
1 night in Garda,
1 night in Verona,
1 in Padua, and
3 in Venice—would that be doable?
Thanks in advance for your tips and experiences! :)
Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here.
It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.
First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.
My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year.
I told her:
“Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.”
“But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.”
I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk.
“Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.”
I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).
July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen.
“Mamido, I did it!”
My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no!
“Congratulations, sweetheart!”
A little shyly, she said:
“Is the India trip still on?”
And me, replying:
“Of course it is!”
And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.
We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint!
But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out.
Personally, that works just fine for me.
Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me.
But I promised.
The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.
It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back.
My little girl will go home to her parents.
As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.
How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special?
That’s the mystery of love, I guess.
I’ve visited the U.S. four times myself, including two long road trips. The last one was just this past August...
I won’t be going back. I already felt guilty last August, but recent policies have finally convinced me: the humiliation of Zelensky, authoritarian excesses, Gestapo-like methods for detaining people of foreign origin, the murder of innocent people (a mother shot dead), corruption, insane "tariffs," skyrocketing healthcare costs for Americans, the abduction of foreign figures to secure oil, the requirement to disclose social media accounts, and now... threats and blackmail to forcibly take Greenland—a region that belongs to Denmark and thus the European Union!
The reality is that simply posting this could get me denied entry to the U.S.!
In this context, I just can’t keep spending money there. I loved my trips, but there are so many other countries with stunning landscapes to explore.
So I get why you’d want to travel there. I did, and I loved it. But once a country no longer respects any of the values that made us love it, why go?
How can we even consider traveling to a country that threatens to take one of our territories by force?
Hello everyone,
Controversial topic? Not necessarily—maybe just a reflection on a world to come.
I spent the last 15 days of August on a cruise in Greenland, from Kangerlussuaq to Tasiilaq.
I was utterly amazed by this unique world of rock and ice, the little houses in every color, a simple life that’s also complicated by isolation and climate, among other things...
I carry in my heart the kindness of the people I met, the raw and gentle majesty of the icebergs, the colors of the sky...
So, I can’t even imagine a massive presence of raw material prospectors, heavy machinery requiring roads to be built—if that’s even possible—changing their way of life... putting sled dogs out to pasture!
Do fast food and Greenland’s northern lights really mix?
I wouldn’t trade my memories for an ESTA!
All opinions are respectable, which is why this isn’t a controversy—but I’m sorry, I have a soft spot for *my* Greenland.
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