So happy the forum reopened last October!!!
I’ve started reading again (posts, travel journals) and chiming in on a few discussions. Now I’m stepping it up by writing a new travel journal—I’ve already posted a few between 2018 and 2020.
My latest trip was to Italy from August 27 to September 26, 2024.
As the title says, it was a wander through Tuscany in parts of the region that aren’t the most visited.
No Firenze-Siena-Pisa trilogy, no San Gimignano; there’ll be a quick detour into Siena, but I’ll skip the best-known sights. That choice, plus traveling in September, should help dodge overtourism. It worked out—crowds were light, sometimes very light, the whole way.
Here’s the practical rundown:
- a long trip outside peak season (ah, retirees!)
- solo camping (caravan)
- a mix of activities (hiking, mountain biking, sightseeing) in places that aren’t always packed with tourists. Still, I don’t feel like I ended up in some hidden-away spots.
Not sure if this will draw any readers.
DAY 1: Tuesday, August 27, 2024
The heat was intense on the drive in across the plain; two big storms—more rain and hail than lightning and thunder—threw the weather off, the first near Imola, the second on the four-lane road up the Savio valley. I left the Cesena-Roma four-lane at the Verghereto exit and climbed up to Balze (1,100 meters). The campsite is even higher (1,200 meters), in the forest near the source of the Tevere (Tiber).
Staying up here will cut down on driving for the first part of the trip: a route through the Appennino (Apennines) on the border between Toscana and Emilia-Romagna.
The temperature was surprisingly mild for the altitude, the air thick with moisture by late afternoon.
I drove back down from the campsite to Balze (2 km on the road) to grab groceries (it’s doable) and scout tomorrow’s hike.
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The endpoint of the planned hike is just a few meters from this sign (the trail crosses this road about 3 km from Balze). I realized Balze and the source of the Tevere (Tiber) are actually in Emilia-Romagna, not Toscana. I always thought the Tevere (Tiber), which flows toward Roma (Tyrrhenian side), started in Toscana!
I’ll come back to this quirk in Day 3’s write-up.
Hi Noëlle,
I’m giving a nuanced answer here: yes, there will be walks in the "Crete Senesi" toward the end of the trip, but no to the Val d'Orcia since I stayed within a 30 km radius around Siena, and the Val d'Orcia is a bit farther south.
The weather is perfect; off we go for a hike from "Passo di Viamaggio (970 meters)" to "regional boundary near Balze (around 1,000 meters)".
The hike starts on a road up to another pass (Passo di Frassinetto); then I climb through a wood on a trail that reaches a grassy hillside. I have to cross this gently sloping hillside by eye to reach the hamlet of Valdazze. I arrive just as the postman is passing by—Italian mail delivers to even the most remote spots.
From the hamlet, a drivable track leads near a tower (like a TV relay) that’s very close to "Monte della Zucca (1,260 meters)", the highest point of the hike.
There should be remnants of the Gothic Line at the summit. The Gothic Line was a German defensive line set up during the summer of 1944 to stop the Allies’ advance toward northern Italy. It roughly stretched from Massa-Carrara to Rimini, making the most of the terrain. Actually, all I saw was a tiny trench covered in humus and leaves.
The descent, a bit trickier than the climb, follows a ridge that curves in a large arc to the finish. The path only goes back up for the last 500 meters to reach the road.
From this ridge, you can see the village of Balze (zoomed-in photo).
The hike ends at the regional boundary sign photographed yesterday. In the photo below, you can see the end of the large arc that crosses the ravined areas in light gray (the lower part of the descent).
I still have to bike back to pick up my car at the hike’s starting point.
The hike (5 hours of walking, breaks included for me, route between 900 and 1,300 meters in altitude, heat tempered by the elevation, not a single hiker encountered on the trail) takes place along a ridge, more or less defined, separating the Tiber basin—which flows into the Tyrrhenian Sea at Ostia—from the Marecchia basin, which flows into the Adriatic Sea at Rimini. It’s a hike along the watershed.
Hike: regional border near Balze - locality "I Sassoni".
From yesterday’s hike endpoint, I head up to the "poggio dei 3 vescovi" (hill of the three bishops). The landscape is open with hay meadows and/or pastures.
The places named "poggio" (hill, knoll) on maps are high points characterized in this part of the Apennines by open landscapes. They differ from the mountains (the peaks), which are higher and, in contrast, covered in forest, thus associated with a closed landscape (background of the photo).
The trail then continues toward Balze, with the upper Tiber Valley on the left, flowing toward the hamlet of Colorio, then Valsavignone and Pieve Santo Stefano.
At the edge of Balze, the trail climbs, reaches the top of the cliffs (see yesterday’s photo), and enters a forest—a beech forest I won’t leave for the rest of the day.
The trail passes by a waterfall on the Tiber, just a trickle of water, goes around the campsite, and arrives at a parking lot. Here begins the section leading to the source of the Tiber: the trail is well-maintained, busy, and winds through a magnificent beech forest.
Near the source, a stele has been erected in the center of a small basin "to the glory of the river" (translated inscription: "Here is born the sacred river of Rome’s destiny"). The structure dates back to 1934; you can see an imperial eagle and wolf heads, symbols from Roman antiquity reused extensively during the Fascist period.
The river’s flow at the basin’s exit is quite weak at the end of August.
The pass (Passo Fumaiolo, 1350 meters) is nearby; you reach the road where there’s a hotel-restaurant, plenty of parking spaces, and lots of people enjoying the cool mountain air (a few fir trees among the beeches in this area).
I take two detours (not very interesting), one to climb up to "Monte Fumaiolo" (1408 meters), the other to visit a small ski resort. I think it’s worth mentioning in the past tense because I saw a ski lift gate that no longer seems operational, and the ascent trail overgrown with shrubs. There might still be cross-country skiing opportunities and definitely snowshoeing options on the trail network.
I then continue downhill through the beech forest to the place called "I Sassoni" at the forest’s edge.
I come back to what surprised me on Day 1: the Tiber (Tevere) has its source in Emilia-Romagna, not Tuscany. Today, I learned why. Well, that wasn’t the case before the Fascist period. Mussolini was Romagnol (born in Romagna), and for a few kilometers, the Tiber’s source was in Tuscany. He must have wanted to associate the Tiber and Il Duce (grandeur, etc.—megalomania) by making them "born" in the same region! Since he couldn’t change Mussolini’s birthplace or the Tiber’s source location, he changed the administrative regional borders! A personal decision by Mussolini.
I don’t know the details of this story—I heard it on the spot.
Day 4: Friday, August 30, 2024
Hike: place known as "I Sassoni" – Verghereto.
The view from "I Sassoni" (the name of the place likely comes from the huge rocks in the foreground) is clear; I’ve just left the beech forest on the Adriatic side, and the valley you can make out several kilometers away is the Savio Valley. The more distant ridge (Alpe di Serra) marks the boundary between the two regions.
Today’s hike is mostly downhill; there won’t be any beech forests since the altitude is too low. After about an hour of walking, the trail reaches a gullied area: the "marne di Montecoronaro" (or calanchi di Verghereto).
The path runs just to the right of the ridge and leads to a viewpoint above the village of Montecoronaro: the Madonnina del Crestone.
If you look closely (above the center of the photo), you can spot the village of Verghereto (the hike’s endpoint). You’ll notice that these badlands are common in this part of the Apennines on this side (Romagna); the same goes for the other side (Tuscany). The descent continues along the trail to the village (Montecoronaro), then on the road to the pass (valico di Montecoronaro).
This is where, on the Via Tiberina, travelers crossed from the Tyrrhenian side to the Adriatic side between Rome and Ravenna (SS3bis, or Strada Statale 3bis). The route between Pieve Santo Stefano and Bagno di Romagna (a mountain road) never allowed heavy traffic, so it became a provincial road. The SS3bis is now a dual-carriageway that crosses the mountain via a series of tunnels and viaducts; directly above the pass, the SS3bis runs through a tunnel.
To reach Verghereto, the trail descends, passes near another gullied area, crosses the Savio (dry at this time), then climbs back up to the village, which is the main town of the commune (800 meters above sea level).
The first kilometer of the trail is downhill to the bridge over the Savio River. From there, you’ll climb 500 meters to reach the ridge at "Passo Rotta dei Cavalli." During the ascent, a section near a ravine (recognizable by the light gray terrain) opens up the view toward Monte Comero.
A little higher up, the trail enters the forest and arrives at the mentioned pass (Passo Rotta dei Cavalli). From there, it takes about 2 to 2.5 hours of walking to reach "Passo dei Mandrioli." The trail stays close to the ridge (the watershed line) with no major climbs or descents, at an altitude between 1150 and 1250 meters. The forest covers the ridge and both slopes—a beech forest interrupted only by two small fir plantations (each about 100 meters long).
Walking for 2.5 hours (8 to 10 kilometers) with nothing but beech trees all around was an unusual experience for me—I haven’t seen anything like it in France. Accepting such a closed, wooded landscape with just one species over such a long distance isn’t something you take for granted. At times, you wonder: *Will I ever get out of here?* I found it stunning, but I can see how it might feel oppressive for some people (though I didn’t feel that way myself).
This wraps up the hiking days from the Balze campsite. The starting and ending points for the next hikes are too far away, so I’ll continue the route from Casentino (the upper Arno Valley), where I’m heading in two days.
To switch things up from hiking, I’m visiting Sansepolcro in Tuscany’s Valtiberina (Tiber Valley). I have to descend about 10 km to reach the SS3bis (a dual carriageway), then drive around 20 km south. By the time I arrive, it’s already scorching, and the day will be as sweltering as the previous ones—being at 350 meters above sea level makes it feel much hotter compared to the mountains.
Today, unusually, the cathedral bell tower is open to visitors, which gives a great view showing just how small the town is. The main square (Piazza Torre di Berta) is already set up with bleachers for the "Palio della balestra," a historical reenactment featuring a crossbow competition taking place next Sunday.
The duomo (cathedral) houses a rare crucifix, the "Volto Santo," dating back to the Carolingian era. In the 8th century, Christ is depicted wearing a tunic.
While wandering around, I come across the entrance to the ABOCA Museum, a museum themed around "plants and health." A tree has been placed inside a dodecahedron—is this an illustration of the relationship between nature and mathematics, or perhaps a tribute to the town’s famous son, whose birthplace is just a hundred meters away?
Piero della Francesca was born in the early Quattrocento (around 1410?) and died (in 1492) and is buried in Sansepolcro. He lived here when he wasn’t working elsewhere. His nearby birthplace reflects his family’s wealth. He was one of the greatest painters of the Italian Renaissance but also a mathematician, known as much for his scientific work as his art during his lifetime. He may have studied polyhedra, which could explain the tribute.
His hometown dedicates a museum (Museo Civico) to him, housed in a historic building, the "Palazzo della Residenza." This museum holds major works by Piero della Francesca.
We’ll start with his portrait, painted by Santi di Tito (a painter born in Sansepolcro) in the second half of the Cinquecento, long after Piero della Francesca’s death, so it’s based on other paintings, drawings, or engravings. Santi di Tito depicted the scholar and humanist more than the painter.
The first major work by Piero della Francesca in this museum is the Polyptych of the Misericordia. Its creation spanned about ten years, starting in 1445. Since the polyptych was dismantled, the panels have been arranged to reconstruct it.
The central panel features the Virgin with her mantle open and arms outstretched (a symbol of protection).
Finally, the panel just to the left of the central one, depicting Saint John the Baptist.
Here’s a detached fresco depicting San Giuliano, discovered in a church in Sansepolcro in the 20th century. This San Giuliano is richly dressed, in the style of the Quattrocento; all the Saint Juliens recognized by the Church lived much earlier, but Piero della Francesca drew inspiration from the society of his time.
The second major work by Piero della Francesca is *The Resurrection of Christ* (1463); it was painted here, on a wall of the great hall (or council chamber) of the Palazzo della Residenza, a civic building.
Two close-ups: one of Christ, one of a soldier.
And now, for a bit of fun—it’s said that Piero della Francesca included a self-portrait in each of these two major works. See if you can spot them... I didn’t find them in person at the museum, but I’ve chosen photos that make the search easier, in my opinion.
Solution tomorrow on Day 7.
During my visit to Sansepolcro, I focused on Piero della Francesca’s paintings, but I also saw other things I haven’t mentioned.
I preferred taking the traditional Via Tiberina over the expressway on the way back. Between Sansepolcro and Pieve Santo Stefano, it overlooks Lake Montedoglio (and the expressway, glimpsed in the photo), an artificial reservoir created about forty years ago for irrigation and downstream water supply.
The self-portraits of Piero della Francesca.
In "The Resurrection of Christ," you can see the faces of two of the four soldiers guarding the tomb. I’ve zoomed in on the one on the left, bareheaded. If we look closely at his face and then move to the central panel of the Polyptych of Mercy, under the Virgin’s mantle on the left side, we find the male figures. Only one has his face turned toward the viewer (almost full-on), and his features match those of the bareheaded soldier asleep in front of Christ’s tomb. Here are Piero della Francesca’s two self-portraits.
Today, I’m changing campsites. I’m heading to the Casentino (upper Arno Valley) via Pieve Santo Stefano, Chiusi della Verna, and Bibbiena. Since I’ll be doing more sightseeing than hiking in the Casentino, staying at a campsite in the valley seems better than one up in the hills. I find a spot in Pianacci, on the edge of Bibbiena and Soci.
I try to head up into the hills in the afternoon, but it’s raining, so I don’t push it. Instead, I head down to the valley to Poppi, where the Castle of the Counts Guidi is located. The village is built on a hill near the Arno River. As soon as I enter the old part of town, I find myself in the main square, occupied by the Oratory of the Madonna del Morbo (protection against the plague).
A street leads up to the top of the hill in front of the castle, a large quadrangle with a tower (rebuilt in the 19th century) and a protruding entrance. This façade has a slight resemblance to the Palazzo Vecchio: Arnolfo di Cambio worked here before designing the palace in Firenze.
Elegant bifora windows.
A grand staircase—or rather, a set of staircases and 15th-century galleries—connects the different levels from the courtyard.
The upper floor houses a beautiful reception hall, the festival salon. A significant library, created in the 19th century, contains many old books. Its display cases feature an original edition of Diderot and d’Alembert’s *Encyclopédie* (is this a rotating exhibit?).
The Chapel of the Counts Guidi was frescoed by Taddeo Gaddi. He painted "The Presentation of Jesus at the Temple" (mid-14th century) on this wall.
I finish the visit by climbing to the top of the tower. Downstream, about 5 km away, is Bibbiena; upstream (photo), at the same distance, is Pratovecchio. Closer, at the foot of Poppi’s hill, lies a small plain: the site of the Battle of Campaldino (1289), where the Florentines (Guelphs) faced the Aretines (Ghibellines) and emerged victorious.
Leaving the castle, I stay on Poppi’s hill and follow Via Cavour (with its arcades) to the abbatial church of San Fedele, visible in the photo above. The interior has a Romanesque appearance, achieved by removing Baroque additions to restore its presumed original look (20th-century restoration). Among the notable artworks (poor photo quality), there’s a "Madonna and Child Enthroned" (circa 1280) by an anonymous painter known as the "Maestro della Maddalena." Jesus is depicted as an adult, not a child—a symbolic choice I’ve never seen before, and I’m not sure what it means.
The weather is sunny and warm in the valley, which will be pleasant at higher altitudes. I’ll resume my hike and split the day into two parts: morning from Passo dei Mandrioli to Badia Prataglia, and afternoon from Badia Prataglia to Prati della Penna.
Starting at "Passo dei Mandrioli" (the pass), the trail descends through the forest on the Tuscan side—still beech trees, then a fir forest, and then beech trees again.
It leads to a sawmill by the road, and the rest of the way to Badia Prataglia (the village) is on the road.
After lunch, I set off again from Badia Prataglia. I climb for about twenty minutes in the sun before reaching a beech forest that covers the entire area up to "Passo Fangacci" (a refuge or forest cabin).
You can drive up to this pass from Badia Prataglia (partly paved road, partly dirt).
There’s still half an hour of walking left, still through the forest. The trail switches to the Romagna side, which is steeper. It arrives at another pass, clear of the forest—like a big meadow: Prati della Penna.
The beautiful weather is drawing me back to the mountains for a hike. Today’s climb to yesterday’s endpoint (Prati della Penna) takes a different route that passes through Camaldoli. Camaldoli is a monastery in the forest (about 800 meters altitude) and a hermitage in the forest (about 1,100 meters altitude). The forest is part of the Casentino Forests, Monte Falterona, and Campigna National Park, established about thirty years ago (Parco Nazionale delle Foreste Casentinesi).
Since I’m coming up from the valley, I reach the monastery first. There are so few people that the tours before the 11:15 AM one were canceled today... so I join the late-morning guided tour. While waiting, the foresteria (monastery guesthouse) is open to explore, with its two cloisters.
The guided tour takes us through the cloister, the church (dei Santi Donato e Ilariano), and the convent buildings (Chapel of the "Madonna del conforto" (Virgin of Comfort), ante-sacristy, sacristy, monks’ choir, refectory, etc.).
Giorgio Vasari stayed at the monastery starting in 1537, at the age of 26. He came here (to the countryside) during a period of depression following the assassination of Alessandro de’ Medici by his cousin Lorenzo de’ Medici (Lorenzaccio). Introduced to court life in Firenze, he knew both of them. The monks commissioned works from him during his stay.
Between 1539 and 1540, he painted the "Deposition of the Cross," the central panel of the main altar’s altarpiece. During the church’s 18th-century restructuring, the painting retained its prominent place.
A close-up of the Virgin Mary’s group at the foot of the Cross.
The pharmacy has a separate entrance. Inside, besides the shop, you’ll find beautiful cabinets, many utensils, and in the chapel, another Vasari painting, "The Agony in the Garden."
The forest area around the monastery—and the hermitage—is a fir plantation established and maintained by the monks. It’s the only part of the forest where I saw a large area wooded with a species other than beech.
I have a picnic near the hermitage but don’t visit it, mistakenly thinking it wasn’t open to the public.
I set off on a short hiking loop starting at "Prati della Penna" (yesterday’s endpoint). I descend through the forest to the hermitage, then the trail climbs back up to the ridge separating the two slopes (Tuscan and Romagnol). When I reach the ridge, the weather changes quickly, and it starts raining. I find shelter—a poor one under the beech trees (no nearby cabin)—until the shower passes. I get pretty wet but not soaked to the bone.
After the rain stops, I decide not to go further and return to the starting point by following the ridge, descending back to "Prati della Penna."
This pass is a large clearing in the forest, but it’s not enough to open up the landscape to more distant horizons.
I start by heading to Bibbiena (the largest town in the Casentino) to pick up some tourist information and take a quick tour of the town, strolling through the streets of the historic center, lined with numerous "palazzi".
Palazzo Marcucci-Mazzoleni: decoration above the windows (Seicento).
I enter the "Propositura dei Santi Ippolito e Donato" (a church with special privileges ) with a beautiful interior that houses several works of art, including a triptych by Bicci di Lorenzo (1435).
The main street in Bibbiena is named (via Dovizi) after the eponymous cardinal who lived during the Renaissance and had the building constructed: Palazzo Dovizi, early Cinquecento.
I then take the road to Chiusi della Verna, passing through it to climb up to the Sanctuary of La Verna (Santuario della Verna), a place linked to Saint Francis of Assisi.
We’re in the mountains, at over 1,100 meters above sea level, in the "Parco Nazionale delle Foreste Casentinesi" (at the southern edge of the national park). Among the many hikes you can do, you can go to Monte Penna, but I stay within the sanctuary.
From the square (called "Il Quadrante"), you can see the porch and the bell tower of the small church "Santa Maria degli Angeli" as well as the buildings of the old part of the monastery. Construction of this church began during the lifetime of Saint Francis of Assisi, or so it’s said.
It contains an enameled terracotta by Andrea della Robbia (before 1493): Cristo in Pietà. This one is polychrome, but the della Robbias made many in blue and white.
The "della Robbia" family is a family of Florentine sculptors specializing in enameled or glazed terracotta. The family workshop produced many pieces found throughout Tuscany, especially in churches.
From the square (Il Quadrante) in front of the large church, the view of the surroundings (Alpe di Catinaia) is expansive. This large church (basilica) was built later, at the end of Santa Maria degli Angeli (visible on the right); you can see the bell tower and the start of the portico.
The ceramicists of the "della Robbia" family also received commissions for the large church and other places in the sanctuary. This "Annunciation" is one of the masterpieces by Andrea della Robbia.
The portico adjoining the large church extends into a corridor called the Corridor of the Stigmata, at the end of which is the spot where Saint Francis of Assisi received the stigmata in 1224 (the miracle of the stigmata).
At the entrance to the corridor, there’s another enameled terracotta, a Pietà by Santi Buglioni (1532-1535). Santi Buglioni was a ceramicist who lived after the della Robbias, in the Cinquecento.
Finally, at the end of the Corridor of the Stigmata, a chapel was built that houses another enameled terracotta by Andrea della Robbia: Crucifixion (around 1481). Its dimensions (6m x 4.20m) are such that I wonder how it was made and/or transported, then installed in situ.
To be continued in the next post.
After lunch in Chiusi della Verna, I head to Caprese Michelangelo (formerly Caprese), the birthplace of Michelangelo Buonarroti.
Caprese had placed itself under the protection of Florence; the Republic appointed *podestàs* (citizens of Florence), who took turns every six months to administer, dispense justice, and so on. Michelangelo’s father was *podestà* in Caprese at the time of his son’s birth (March 6, 1475).
On the castle grounds stands the Michelangelo Birthplace Museum, where he was born in the *podesteria* (the *podestà*’s residence), a rather beautiful building.
The *podestà* carried out his duties on the ground floor; he lived on the first floor, where Michelangelo’s birth room is located.
The museum displays a triptych by Giuliano Amidei (*Madonna col Bambino*; around 1480) from an abbey in the area. The painter included a rare detail in this *"Virgin and Child"*: a cardinal flies from the child’s hands toward a cherry offered by a figure.
The museum also features documents about Michelangelo’s birth and plaster casts of some of his famous sculptures.
Now, let’s move to the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. Michelangelo painted a scene on the ceiling depicting the creation of Adam.
Adam is leaning against a sloping rock with a mountain in the background. As with many works of the Italian Renaissance, art historians have studied the landscape depicted here. Some theories suggest it may be inspired by Chiusi della Verna;
This rock is just a few meters from the *podesteria* in Chiusi della Verna, with Monte Penna—near the sanctuary—and its distinctive shape in the background. Michelangelo may have drawn inspiration from a landscape in the Casentino region he knew well to paint the creation of Adam.
You have to ignore the houses and vegetation around it; the resemblance is striking, and some experts wonder whether Michelangelo worked from memory or from sketches. In Chiusi della Verna, this site is called the Rock of Adam.
Just after leaving Chiusi della Verna, the road to Bibbiena passes at the foot of the sanctuary. Having been there this morning, I can identify the large church on the right and the building housing the Chapel of the Stigmata on the left.
You’re a hard one to keep up with, I must say... You visit places that are off the radar for most French tourists, and on foot, you take paths that are just as mysterious to the average person. A map with your route would’ve made this travel journal—packed with fascinating cultural details—much easier to follow. It’s like a treasure hunt; I have to ask Google where the place you’re talking about is just to see if it’s accessible from where I’m staying...
But I’m hanging in there!
I’m delighted to rediscover the terracotta works of the Florentine Della Robbia family, who invented glazing. I have a soft spot for the blue-and-white pieces—they really highlight the delicacy and expression of the sculptures. I restocked my photo collection at the Bargello Museum in Florence last year.
As for the bird in the Madonna and Child paintings, it’s not a cardinal but a goldfinch, which symbolizes Christ’s crown of thorns because it feeds on thistles, as its name suggests. My "knowledge" on this is brand new—I’d seen so many goldfinches in paintings at the Uffizi and finally looked up why!
Keep up the great work, and thanks for this original cultural journey.
Hi Noëlle,
Thanks for your input. When you're writing a travel journal, you're so immersed in the places, the stages, and the whole area you've visited... that you forget the reader doesn’t have a map of Tuscany—or a more detailed one of this part of Tuscany—right next to them. I’ll try to improve the journal’s readability by including maps with routes created using Google Maps.
For the sequence of hikes, I’d planned from the start to summarize the entire route, its origin (where I found it), etc., and to do that once I’ve finished the hike. Patience—it’s coming on day 12.
For the rest, I’m catching up on the days up to day 6, meaning everything I did starting from Balze.
My way of hiking means I always cycle back via the road from the endpoint to the starting point of the hike to retrieve my car, which I leave at the starting point.
Here’s what that looks like for the route from Passo di Viamaggio to Passo dei Mandrioli (days 2 to 5). The red dot represents Passo dei Mandrioli (Google Maps doesn’t print the name of the endpoint. Why?). It’s the road route from the red dot to Passo di Viamaggio that was traveled and is shown below.
The map really shows that these are mountain roads.
Here’s the route from Balze to Sansepolcro (red dot). The Tevere (Tiber) flows due south in its upper course.
I’m adding a third map because there are only villages or mountain passes in days 1 to 6 of my journal (except for Sansepolcro, which is a small town). The red dot is Passo dei Mandrioli.
The presence of Florence, Arezzo, the Republic of San Marino, and Rimini on the map should help locate where you are in the absence of a major city.
I’ll do the same for days 7 to 10 in another post. After that, I’ll resume writing the journal, including the maps in the narrative—one map every 2 or 3 days, or even a dedicated map for certain days.
It’d be great to get some feedback so I can see what these maps add (or don’t).
I’ll provide two maps to clarify the routes for days 7 to 10.
Useful map for days 7 and 10.
Day 7. Camping accommodation between Bibbiena and Soci. The red dot marks the Castello dei Conti Guidi in Poppi. Route: Soci – Poppi and back in the afternoon.
Day 10. Route: Soci – Bibbiena – Sanctuary La Verna (Google spells it in English) – Chiusi della Verna – Caprese Michelangelo. Return via the same route, except for the stop at the sanctuary.
Useful map for days 8 and 9. Driving routes.
Day 8. The red dot is at Soci. Route: Soci – Badia Prataglia – Passo dei Mandrioli – Badia Prataglia in the morning. Route: Badia Prataglia – Rifugio Fangacci – Prati della Penna and back to Badia Prataglia in the afternoon. Return to Soci in the evening.
Day 9. Route: Soci – Camaldoli – Hermitage of Camaldoli – Prati della Penna and back.
I started my sightseeing day in Bibbiena by visiting the archaeological museum. It's a local museum showcasing artifacts found in the Casentino (the upper Arno Valley), and I mainly focused on the Etruscan period.
Some terracotta antefixes from a temple are on display, including one with a woman's head.
This is a decorative roof element (made of clay), and its position is better illustrated by a diagram than by words. The edges of the roof were decorated this way.
The other Etruscan pieces I noticed were bronze objects from the Lake of the Idols (Lago degli Idoli). This lake is located high up near the source of the Arno, and since its discovery in 1838, over 2,000 small votive bronze objects (mainly statuettes) have been recovered. It's believed the lake served as a sanctuary, but an open-air one with no trace of construction (the site has been excavated several times). No decent photos possible due to reflections in the display cases.
I continued and finished the walk through the streets I started yesterday morning. The Palazzo Vecchietti-Poltri is built on the ruins of a castle, of which only a tower remains.
A few steps away, a panoramic terrace overlooks the Casentino. You can see the Castle of Poppi (visited 4 days ago) and, in the distance, the Pratomagno mountain range.
Map for days 11 and 12.
In the afternoon, I followed the Arno Valley up to Pratovecchio. Just after the bridge over the Arno, a small road on the left leads up to the "Pieve di Romena" (Parish Church of Saint Peter), built in the 12th century in pure Romanesque style.
It's set in the countryside in a lovely setting. Three naves, sculpted pillars, and an impressive apse (best visited in the morning for the lighting).
Continuing up another small road, I reached the Castle of Romena. Accessed via a cypress-lined avenue that evokes Tuscany—since I started my trip in the mountains of the Apennines, this was the first time I’d seen it on this journey—I couldn’t resist photographing it.
And I lingered a while around the castle grounds.
It sits atop an elongated hill, the summit of which was flattened to create a parade ground. At either end of the parade ground are the preserved ruins—towers that served various functions. It’s all in ruins (not much to visit), but the location is stunning, offering views of the entire valley and the mountains. You can see why the castle had strategic importance in the Middle Ages for controlling the valley. Like the Castle of Poppi, it belonged to the Counts Guidi family.
In the center of the photo, you can see a block of buildings, and to the far right, behind a row of cypress trees, a prison tower separated from the previous block by the parade ground.
The weather is gorgeous this morning, so I’m heading out for a day of hiking in the Apennines. It’s my last hiking day, and the only one that’s an out-and-back route. The start and finish point is "Passo La Calla" (the red dot on Day 11’s map), a pass at 1,300 meters above Pratovecchio-Stia.
The route is simple: the trail follows the Apennine ridge. It’s a series of climbs and descents (sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, sometimes right on the ridge) with a clear viewpoint at Poggio Scali and miles of beech forest. I hike as far as the spot where I got caught in the rain three days ago (above the Camaldoli hermitage).
The view from Poggio Scali faces the Romagna side.
The beech forest along the trail.
We’re right in the Casentino Forests National Park (parco nazionale delle foreste casentinesi). These beech forests are a UNESCO World Heritage Site as "Ancient and Primeval Beech Forests." I’d love to come back here in the fall (the colors change, then the leaves fall).
The round trip is pretty long but not difficult, and I got back to "Passo della Calla" early enough to visit the Wool Art Museum in Stia.
Before that, though, I’m reflecting on all the hikes I’ve done. Wanting to hike in the Apennines, I chose a tiny section of the "Sentiero Italia": a trail that runs the entire length of the Alps, then along the Apennine ridge (from Trieste all the way to the tip of Calabria).
More info at sentieroitalia.cai.it
Here are the four stages I did (I’d downloaded a GPX track):
SI L02N Passo di Viamaggio - Balze
SI L03N Balze - Verghereto
SI L04N Verghereto - Badia Prataglia
SI L05 Badia Prataglia - Passo della Calla
Since I wasn’t hiking from hotel to hotel with a backpack, I split it differently: shorter stages with bike rides along the road from the endpoint back to the start to pick up my car.
Another site with info on the "Sentiero Italia" is vasentiero.org
It seems more recent and better for descriptions, maps, and accommodations.
The route is in the opposite direction, with stages numbered 166, 167, 168, and 169.
The Wool Art Museum in Stia is housed in the former wool mill that operated from the mid-19th century to the second half of the 20th century. That’s what makes it so interesting—while the millennia-old craft of wool work is on display, it’s also an industrial archaeology site.
I photographed machines I’d never seen anywhere else, like carding machines.
First carding machine.
Second carding machine.
These two carding machines were used one after the other in the industrial carding process.
The next step in wool processing is spinning. The machine below is probably a wool-spinning machine (to be confirmed, since I didn’t find the info in my notes). The fixed frame is on the right, and the wool there looks like what comes out of the second carding machine. The mobile part (on the left) moves back and forth, guided by wheels on a rail. I didn’t see it in action and can’t quite picture what happens in the upper part.
This last machine is a warping machine. It unwinds bobbins to arrange the threads side by side and create the warp—just before weaving.
The fabric produced is "panno casentino." Its production was revived for high-end clothing (there’s a shop on-site). It has a "brushed" or "fuzzy" look, achieved with a machine called a finisher (or finishing machine) that rubs the fabric.
Oh! What a coat made of "panno casentino"! It’s the model Audrey Hepburn wore in the film "Breakfast at Tiffany’s" (1961), adapted from Truman Capote’s work. This fabric had its moment of glory.
I’m changing campsites to stay near Arezzo, 8 km to the west, next to the village of Ruscello. Since there’s less than 50 km between the two campsites, I’ll have the afternoon to start exploring Arezzo. During this part of the trip, I’ll visit Arezzo and the surrounding areas: the Valdichiana, a bit of the Valdarno, and a return to the Valtiberina.
The red dot is Ruscello. Maps for the excursions around Arezzo will come later.
Arezzo is built on the side of a hill; a good first approach is to leisurely climb the hillside up to the main square (very well-known): Piazza Grande.
It’s quadrangular and sloped (since it’s on the hillside); here it is with the "Logge Vasari" on the right (Arezzo is Vasari’s hometown) and the Palazzo della Fraternità dei Laici on the left.
Once you cross it, here’s the view from above along the same diagonal (at ground level).
I’ll have a chance to return on a sunnier day.
When you climb to the top of the hill, you arrive next to the Duomo (Cattedrale di San Donato; Saint Donatus Cathedral). It’s a Gothic cathedral whose construction took a long time, finishing in the 20th century in the... Neo-Gothic style.
Here’s an example with the chevet (end of the 13th century) and the bell tower (mid-19th century, with the upper part completed in the 20th century). The locals in Arezzo nickname it "Il Matitone" (the big pencil) because of its distinctive shape.
The interior contains many works of art; among them, I chose the Ark of Saint Donatus (Arca di San Donato), placed behind the high altar, entirely in white marble, sculpted throughout the Trecento by several artists. This monument holds the body of San Donato.
Here’s the front with its profusion of scenes and pinnacles.
In the background, you can glimpse the stained-glass windows of the cathedral’s chevet, a major work of Italian Renaissance stained glass (Guillaume de Marcillat, around 1525).
The back, mounted on Corinthian columns, depicts scenes from the life of San Donato.
Piero della Francesca painted a Mary Magdalene (around 1460); he must have slipped away to create this fresco, which is the only trace of him in Arezzo outside of the Church of San Francesco (see tomorrow’s post).
Finally, this statue (unknown 13th-century artist) comes from the old cathedral that was located outside the city walls.
Right at the foot of the steps in front of the cathedral’s façade, the episcopal palace (a beautiful 13th-century building) is open for visits, with a museum on the ground floor and the reception rooms upstairs.
From the same period as the cathedral’s *Virgin and Child* (13th century), several polychrome wooden crucifixes are on display.
Among the paintings, I was struck by an *Annunciation* (Andrea di Nerio; around 1350). I often choose this subject to compare different periods and painters on a common theme.
To wrap up the museum, Giorgio Vasari, who was very attached to his hometown, painted a processional banner for the "Peducci" company (1549). On one side, the chosen subject is the preaching of Saint John the Baptist.
The reception rooms were frescoed in the early 17th century by Teofilo Torri. The one below (whose name and function I don’t recall) is adjacent to the grand Hall of Justice.
A beautiful day, not too hot, in Arezzo.
I park near Pescaiola station and then get around by bike and on foot.
The most famous and influential personality from Arezzo is Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574)—painter, architect, and the man who "invented" art history. He regularly returned to stay in his hometown and bought a house there, which he decorated himself (likely with some help, as was common at the time). "Casa Vasari" is therefore an artist’s home from the Renaissance, a rather rare testament to that era.
My photo choices (for the rest of the post) will be very selective and arbitrary; I’ll skip parts of monuments, or even entire monuments, to show only what remains most vivid in my memory when I write with several months of hindsight.
The Chamber of Fame and the Arts is worth seeing for its architecture and paintings (overview below).
On the ceiling, Fame, seated on a globe, blows a trumpet.
Between two lunettes decorated with portraits of painters, Poetry is absorbed in her creation.
The largest room, entirely decorated with frescoes, is the Hall of the Triumph of Virtue. At the center of the coffered ceiling, allegories of Virtue, Fortune, and Envy.
Surrounding the fresco above to complete the ceiling’s decoration, four paintings represent the four ages of life, including childhood.
Leaving "Casa Vasari," I head up toward the cathedral and quickly arrive at a square where the Church of Saint Dominic (Chiesa di San Domenico) stands. Gothic in style, it has an elegant façade, with the bell tower adding an asymmetrical touch.
Inside, besides numerous frescoes, there’s a large painted crucifix by Cimabue.
In the afternoon, the flags on the tower of the Palazzo dei Priori (now the town hall) flutter in the wind (photo taken on Via Andrea Cesalpino).
A few meters further down, I’m standing in front of the Basilica of San Francesco. This church, the most famous in Arezzo, is also a national museum and houses an exceptional work: the frescoes by Piero della Francesca in the "Cappella Bacci." This chapel is named after the wealthy family who commissioned the frescoes.
The chapel’s vaults were painted by Bicci di Lorenzo, who passed away shortly after. That’s when Piero della Francesca was called in. He created a pictorial cycle illustrating the "Legend of the True Cross," the story of the cross on which Jesus was crucified.
Piero della Francesca didn’t arrange the scenes in chronological order; instead, he used the chapel’s symmetry to place them. For example, there are two large battle scenes, positioned symmetrically along the chapel’s axis.
I’ve picked 5 frescoes and will stick to chronological order.
Adoration of the Sacred Wood and the meeting between the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon.
The Queen of Sheba arrives at a wooden bridge and kneels, sensing the prophecy tied to this wood.
The Queen of Sheba meets Solomon and shares the prophecy with him; all the figures in the scene are richly dressed in Quattrocento fashion.
The Dream of Constantine.
On the eve of the battle against Maxentius, Constantine has a dream and hears a voice telling him to fight under the protection of the Cross.
A night scene that made history in the art world.
Constantine’s Victory over Maxentius at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.
On the right (damaged fresco), Maxentius is already fleeing. On the left, Constantine’s army looks more like they’re parading than fighting—a spiritual victory without bloodshed?
Between the two armies, the Tiber River, where the battle takes place, is depicted in detail (houses, trees, reflections, ducks). The background landscape (with more relief) led some experts to suggest that Piero replaced the Roman countryside (the actual location) with Tuscany: the upper Tiber Valley where he was born. It’s not entirely convincing when you look at the fresco.
Discovery of the True Cross
I photographed the left half of the fresco, then the right half; the two halves depict different scenes (same principle as the first fresco I chose, Queen of Sheba and Solomon).
Three crosses are unearthed in a field (I only see two); they’re presented to Helena, Constantine’s mother. The setting is the countryside with Jerusalem’s walls in the distance, but the landscape is Tuscan, and the hilltop town is Arezzo.
The figure to the right of Helena and her court dwarf, dressed in white and facing the viewer, is believed to be Piero della Francesca (a self-portrait within the pictorial ensemble).
A dead man rises from his coffin, a miracle that identifies the True Cross. Now we’re in a city (architectural construction); the figures are dressed in Quattrocento fashion, as in the other scenes.
Battle Between Heraclius and Khosrow.
I’ve focused on part of this large fresco, where Christian cavalry intervene decisively in the battle.
This series of frescoes is world-renowned as an absolute masterpiece of Renaissance painting.
In the late afternoon, I cycled a stretch of the "sentiero della bonifica," which runs alongside the Valdichiana’s main drainage canal (from Chiani to I Ponti).
For this new day in Arezzo, I’m visiting the MAMM (Museum of Medieval and Modern Art), housed in a 15th-century palace, the "Palazzo Bruni Ciocchi" (courtyard with portico below).
The museum has around twenty rooms organized in chronological order; the selected photos follow this sequence.
The *Madonna di Montelungo* (circa 1250) was painted by Margarito d'Arezzo, born in Arezzo around 1220, one of the first known Tuscan artists. He signed his paintings (see the bottom of the photo).
Two centuries later, Parri di Spinello painted a *"Madonna della Misericordia"* with a predella (1435–1437). He was the most prominent painter in Arezzo between 1420 and 1450.
Giorgio Vasari also created a *"Madonna col Bambino"*, rendered in a very different style (1536–1537). The painting is known as the *"Pala di San Rocco"* because it was commissioned by the *"Compagnia di San Rocco"* (a confraternity).
19th-century painting reflects the Italian Unification with Carlo Ademollo’s work: *The Battle of San Martino* (1861). The painting was completed two years after the battle (1859), which is known in France as *Solférino*. San Martino is where the Sardinian troops fought, while the French troops were closer to Solférino (two neighboring villages in Lombardy).
In the afternoon, I return to *Piazza Grande* (different photos from Day 13, taken under a bluer sky). The apse of the parish church, *Santa Maria*, overlooks one corner of the square.
The *"Logge Vasari"* face south, forming a lovely arcade with café and restaurant terraces that weren’t too crowded this afternoon.
Here are the "Logge" and the Santa Maria church in the same photo; between them is the Palazzo della Fraternità dei Laici, which I’m going to visit.
The visit starts in the palace’s audience hall, where the fresco of the "Madonna della Misericordia" (1448) is located. The painter, Parri di Spinello, is the same artist behind the painting on the same subject in the museum. Since the commission was paid for by the Fraternità (we know the amount), the people under the Virgin’s cloak (there’s quite a crowd) are Aretine benefactors and/or members (of the Fraternità). Many of them, according to the provided details, have been identified.
Some of the paintings on display are historical testimonies, like this view of Piazza Grande, signed by Cristoforo di Donato Conti. It dates back to the Settecento, a century when "vedute" were all the rage. The square hasn’t changed much since then.
I’m looking at this model as another historical record—the oldest architect’s model I’ve ever seen. Vasari had it made in 1572, the year he was commissioned for the project. The model, limited to two arches, may have been used to convince the city officials of the project’s modular nature. After Vasari’s death (1574), construction continued on this principle (completed in 1595), with the ground-floor shops being sold in modules as work progressed.
The view from the panoramic terrace is a sweeping one over Piazza Grande and a circular one over the city of Arezzo.
The parish church "Santa Maria della Pieve" is located very close to the square (access via Corso Italia). It houses the large polyptych by Pietro Lorenzetti (1320), known as the Tarlati Polyptych, as it was commissioned by the Bishop of Arezzo. The painter wasn’t from Arezzo but from Siena.
The Virgin’s cloak is very unusual, as the painter depicted parts of it as fur (but what kind of fur?).
I end the day with this church and its bell tower. A symbol of Arezzo, it’s called the "bell tower of a hundred holes" because of its twin windows on all four sides.
Photo taken on Via Bicchieraia (facade under renovation; the bell tower is also clearly visible from the panoramic terrace, as mentioned above).
This morning in Arezzo, there’s a very busy market in the streets at the foot of the hill; you have to weave between the stalls to reach the archaeological museum (Museo Gaio Cilnio Mecenate in Italian). This Roman, originally from Arezzo and advisor to Emperor Augustus—named Gaius Cilnius Maecenas in Latin—is the origin of the words "patron" and "patronage" through his actions.
The museum is next to the Roman amphitheater, with its arena clearly visible, though nothing remains above ground.
The collections are divided between the Etruscan era (the Etruscans were very present in what is now Tuscany, especially to the east and south) and the Roman era.
Taking photos in archaeology is always tricky (display cases, reflections).
During the Etruscan era, the finest ceramic pieces were imported from Greece. Here’s the Euphronios krater (Attic origin, around 510 BC) depicting a battle between Hercules and the Amazons.
A red-figure amphora, also of Attic origin (dated around 415 BC), is decorated with "Pelops and Hippodamia on a quadriga." Here are the figures on the chariot.
And now, the four horses.
Still from the Etruscan era (around 600 BC), the torso from Marciano (a village in the Valdichiana) is sculpted from *pietra fetida*, a soft limestone often used by the Etruscans for funerary monuments.
Moving on to the Roman period and Arezzo’s splendor: from the 1st century AD, for over 100 years, Arezzo was the largest production center of *terra sigillata* (a fine red-glazed tableware) in the empire.
Here’s an example of a two-handled cup featuring knucklebones players.
This was mass-produced in workshops that signed their work (over a hundred workshops). Example with the signature of C. Volusenus (1st or 2nd century AD).
The Arezzo medallion is a curiosity made using *chrysography* (engraving and painting on gold leaf between two glass plates—don’t ask me for more details!). It dates from the imperial era, 3rd or 4th century AD. There are only about ten such medallions in the world produced with this technique.
In the afternoon, I head to the very top of San Donato Hill (Arezzo’s hill), where the Medici Fortress (16th century) was built. Coming from the city, you access it through a gate leading to a long interior corridor within the thickness of the fortification. Since it’s military architecture, all the walls are bare in these spaces. Don’t expect anything more than a walk along the ramparts.
The views from the ramparts aren’t directed toward the city (to the southwest) but toward the other directions. The photo gives an idea of the Arezzo surroundings, with the mountain called "alpe di Catenaia" in the background to the north. The terrace planted with umbrella pines visible a few hundred meters away is a large public garden: "parco il prato".
I head back down to the city and visit the "Badia di Santa Flora e Lucilla", a church located not far from San Francesco. Vasari transformed it architecturally; in the 19th century, a monumental altar created by Vasari for his family’s chapel in the "Pieve di Santa Maria" (see yesterday’s post) was moved here, where it now serves as the main altar.
In this church, you can see a "Visitation" by Giovanni Antonio Lappoli (1524). The information I read—either on-site or in documentation given in Arezzo (I can’t remember)—described the painter as mediocre, a better musician (and more interested in music) than painter, and cited the following criticisms:
1-stereotyped, inexpressive faces
2-drapery that reveals a clear lack of technique.
I’d never encountered such a harsh presentation of what’s on display, but I have to admit, upon observation, there’s some truth to those two points.
The weather is uncertain in the early morning; I leave fairly late, hoping for an improvement that never comes. The day turns out rainy (showers) and really cold for September. I’m heading to the Arno Valley and had planned an outdoor activity.
I make my way to San Giovanni Valdarno. I pick up some brochures late in the morning, then head up to Castelfranco di Sopra, which will be the starting point for a hike in the "Balze"—"area naturale le Balze" on the map. The red dot marks Castelfranco di Sopra.
The route takes me past the ravines and characteristic cliffs of this area.
I also have to take shelter from the rain for quite a while.
Among these distinctive formations, there are erosion pillars like the one in the center of the photo below.
I only saw what’s on the loop starting from Castelfranco di Sopra, but there are other sites if you head toward Loro Ciuffenna.
Now, here’s Leonardo da Vinci’s world-famous painting: the *Mona Lisa*.
When you look at the landscape behind the model’s right shoulder, you’ll notice it looks a lot like what I just saw—the "Balze" of the Upper Valdarno (I find the resemblance really convincing).
Experts have suggested that Leonardo painted this landscape (which he knew) as the background for his painting. But given how famous the *Mona Lisa* is, there are countless theories about the background (both in Tuscany and other regions of Italy). Leonardo may have combined several landscapes from different places or even painted an entirely imaginary one.
As for the other parts of the landscape, the multi-arched bridge near Mona Lisa’s left shoulder can’t be found exactly in the "Balze." However, there’s apparently one about 20 kilometers away that might fit.
The lake surrounded by jagged peaks, near the model’s face, simply doesn’t exist in this part of Tuscany.
Back in San Giovanni Valdarno, I visit the "Museo della Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie." I pick out two works before moving on to what the museum is really known for.
Mariotto di Cristofano was born in San Giovanni. Here’s a detail from a *Christus patiens between the Madonna and St. Lucy* (around 1420).
He’s not the only painter born in San Giovanni. Masaccio was born here too, along with his brother, nicknamed "Lo Scheggia." The latter, also a painter, specialized in furniture painting for the upper classes. The museum displays a side of a wedding chest, a typical example of this work: the story of *Trajan and the Widow* (around 1430–1440).
But people come to this museum for one specific reason: it houses one of the three *Annunciations* painted by Fra Angelico (Guido di Pietro, Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, Fra Angelico, or Beato Angelico) around 1430–1440.
Next, I visit another small museum, the "Museo delle Terre Nuove," located in the Palazzo d’Arnolfo. There, I learn why San Giovanni has a rectangular plan within its walls—a layout I’d noticed when arriving in the center.
San Giovanni was built from scratch by the Florentines for political reasons. They distrusted the local nobility (feudal lords) and wanted to attract part of the population to new towns to reduce the nobility’s influence. Many of these "new lands" (or towns) were designed with a rectangular plan.
In one of the palace’s rooms, there are round paintings intended for a Medici villa, by a painter born here: Giovanni Manozzi, known as Giovanni da San Giovanni (early 17th century).
*Bacchus and Ariadne.*
When I leave, I find myself in the square facing the basilica.
And after seeing San Giovanni’s plan in the museum, you immediately realize that at the far end of the square (the middle of one side of the rectangular enclosure), there should be a gate (the layout seems odd anyway).
In fact, there *was* a gate. Then a miracle happened.
In 1478, a 75-year-old woman (Monna Tancia) knelt under the gate in front of an image of the Madonna. Her infant grandson was an orphan (his parents had died of the plague), and she was then able to nurse him, saving him from certain death.
An oratory was built, then a chapel (or vice versa), and later a church, which became a basilica… and now there’s no gate at the far end of the square.
Cold, windy day, but quite sunny. I’m visiting two medieval villages in the Valtiberina: Monterchi and Anghiari.
Here’s a little map of the loop I did (and no, it’s not from Google).
Monterchi is perched on an isolated hill, and the view over the surrounding countryside is lovely. It also gives a pretty accurate idea of this part of Tuscany.
Monterchi is enclosed within walls and has a strong medieval character.
Here’s a house inside the walls.
Next, I head to Anghiari. This village overlooks the Valtiberina; it’s larger than Monterchi and belongs to the "I borghi più belli d'Italia" (Italy’s most beautiful villages) club.
Ramparts, café terraces, and views over the Tiber Valley.
At one of the village’s high points, the Palazzo Pretorio (or Vicar’s Palace) is now the town hall. It’s a 14th-century palace with an L-shaped plan, and its façade is decorated with the coats of arms of the vicars and podestàs appointed by Florence.
Anghiari also has gates, staircases, sloping alleys, and towers...
There are also churches and at least two museums. The Palazzo Taglieschi houses the national museum in a maze of medieval houses; it’s an art museum, but there’s also ethnography.
Here’s a Madonna from the 14th century, originating from the Valtiberina. The Virgin’s frontal position and braided hair tie her to a popular tradition.
I won’t show anything else from inside a church or museum.
There’s another museum in the village, the Museum of the Battle of Anghiari (1440). This battle saw the Florentines defeat the Milanese; it’s famous because of a lost painting commissioned from Leonardo da Vinci as a commemorative piece to adorn the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence.
From the rampart walk, you can see the battle site. According to the information provided, it took place in the plain a little farther than the last car visible on the road. There’s also a walk (not done) on the actual battle site.
In the distance, you can make out the town of Sansepolcro.
Finally, there’s still the matter of finding an overall viewpoint of the village by switching hills.
The Sant'Agostino church is built on the rampart with an apse resembling a tower.
A wider shot shows the entire rampart and the oldest part of the village, called "Il Borghetto."
I’ll be spending the day in Cortona. Since there’s so much to see there (at my visiting pace), the day will be pretty packed—early start, late return. The weather is still cool, but the wind has died down and the sun is out, so it feels much better.
Cortona’s site is exceptional. The town sits on a hillside, but the plain at its foot is 400 meters above sea level, and the Girifalco fortress at the top is at 650 meters. So it’s not just a small hill—it’s a remarkable vantage point over the region, used and fortified since Etruscan times (likely one of the most important Etruscan centers).
I manage to park near the Etruscan wall (5th century BC), which stretches about 4 km and runs all the way to the top of the hill. It surrounds the historic town and is really impressive when you think about how old it is.
In Cortona, there are two types of streets: the first follow the contour lines, and the second connect them, running steeply uphill.
I enter the town through the "Porta Bifora," a gate in the wall, and climb a steep street up to Piazza della Repubblica, the central square.
The "Palazzo Comunale" dominates the square: a clock tower and a grand Renaissance staircase built on medieval foundations.
Nearby, "Piazza Signorelli" is the town’s second square. This morning, both squares host a market that draws a big crowd—locals and tourists alike. It’s the only place on this trip where I’ve seen so many foreign visitors.
I continue to "Piazza Duomo" (a viewpoint over the Valdichiana), where the diocesan museum sits across from the cathedral.
It’s relatively small but features some major works.
Luca Signorelli (1450–1524), born and died in Cortona, is the town’s pride. He’s one of the great painters of the Italian Renaissance. *Communion of the Apostles* (1512) includes a close-up of Judas.
Another painting depicts Santa Margherita da Cortona, who died in 1297, and scenes from her life. The artist is anonymous but believed to be Sienese, from the Trecento. The saint wears a halo long before her canonization in the 18th century—proof that popular devotion moved much faster than the official Church...
This museum also has a second *Annunciation* painted by Beato Angelico (see San Giovanni Valdarno, Day 17, for the first one).
I prefer this one because of these differences:
- The architecture where the scene takes place
- The angel’s wings
- The angel is static in the first one; here, he’s (almost) still in motion
- The angel’s hands emphasize his words in this version.
Along the wall below the museum, "Via Janelli" is lined with medieval houses (I don’t have any documents dating them). I notice that they’re built in brick from the first floor up, while the "palazzi" are made of stone throughout.
In the afternoon, I visit the MAEC (Museum of the Etruscan Academy and the City of Cortona), where I’m particularly drawn to the Etruscan section.
This statue comes from the Sodo tumulus, an Etruscan burial mound at the foot of Cortona’s hill; it was part of the entrance to a podium-altar.
To better understand what this statue represents, I’ll describe what I saw later in the day when I visited the tumulus site at Sodo.
You accessed the tumulus via a stone staircase, where the sculpture was part of the side ramps; at the top of the stairs was the podium-altar.
This staircase has been reconstructed using some original blocks, but not the statues (originals are in the museum, reproductions at the tumulus).
Around much of the tumulus’s circumference, the retaining wall is original (6th–5th century BCE); the tumulus contains two tombs from that period.
Back at the MAEC, which displays many Etruscan artifacts, here’s an amphora made of "bucchero" (late 7th, early 6th century BCE)—a black, shiny, monochrome ceramic.
The funerary amphorae are decorated with small bronze pieces, like these dragon heads.
I end the visit with an impressive piece: a large bronze candelabrum. The photo doesn’t do justice to its size or the extreme complexity of the work—it’s definitely very heavy (16 burners, numerous figures). Archaeologists believe it may have been used to illuminate a place of worship.
Afterward, I take a walk around town in search of viewpoints, which are bound to exist given Cortona’s hilltop position. "Via Santa Margherita" runs along the city walls, and the view opens up when I reach the start of the Via Crucis. I’m on the southern slope of the hill, with Lake Trasimeno (Lago Trasimeno) in the distance, in Umbria.
Further south, in Tuscany, is Monte Amiata with its volcanic shape—still 1,700 meters high. In the foreground, the Valdichiana.
I’m heading back to Arezzo one last time to visit the Ivan Bruschi house-museum. It’s housed in a beautiful building, the "Palazzo del Capitano" (Palace of the Captain of the People), located on Corso Italia, right across from the "Pieve di Santa Maria." I’m a bit reserved about the interior—there’s a lot of stuff, but it’s not well showcased, and it feels like a real mess.
A bank foundation (I can’t remember which one) put together a collection of paintings displayed in the house, which are better than the other objects.
Here’s a way of depicting the Annunciation from the very end of the 16th century: Alessandro Allori (1591), a painter from the late Mannerist period.
Moving forward in time, we reach the middle of the 17th century with Giovanni Battista Salvi, known as "il Sassoferrato" after his birthplace. He’s famous as the painter of Madonnas, specializing in the subject, which he depicted hundreds of times—likely because he lived during the Counter-Reformation. His style is classical, with a lot of softness, balance, and serenity, which comes through in the painting on display.
A temporary exhibition has been open for a few days, dedicated to jousts and tournaments in Tuscany. I picked out a mannequin (Florentine-made, 1579).
In the city center, I also notice small signs marking the filming locations of the movie "Life Is Beautiful" (Roberto Benigni, 1998).
I leave the city via "Piazza Sant'Agostino," a spot I hadn’t visited yet.
Time to insert a little map.
Yesterday’s route went from Ruscello (the end of the blue line at the top of the map) to Cortona (bottom right).
This afternoon, I’m taking a bike ride on the "Sentiero della Bonifica"—the Pieve al Toppo to Frassineto section, which extends the ride I did on Day 14.
"Bonifica" means land reclamation. This plain, the Valdichiana, where water used to stagnate, was the focus of drainage and agricultural development work in the 18th century (if I remember correctly). The main canal (Canale Maestro) directs water toward the Arno, and the "Sentiero della Bonifica" runs alongside it, creating a flat path of about 60 km starting near Arezzo and heading south (toward Chiusi).
The route I took isn’t on the map (you can see Pieve al Toppo, the starting point, then it heads toward the black dot), because it’s a bike trail with sections of gravel, others on dirt roads (strada bianca), and some on grass (less common).
Next, I visit a village overlooking the Valdichiana: Civitella in Val di Chiana. See its location on the map.
View of the Valdichiana.
The village is surrounded by walls, with a church and a "rocca" (fortress). The main street runs from the church to the "rocca."
Below is the lower part of the village, along the walls.
The fortress is Lombard, dating back to the 600–800 period. This photo shows the keep, which was damaged by German troops in 1944.
This village is a "martyr village." German troops executed over 200 people here on June 29, 1944—one of the mass massacres of the war in Italy. A memorial site is set up under the arcades of the main street.
I’m heading to the last campsite of the trip, near Siena, specifically in Sovicille. Since it’s about 60 km away, I’ve got plenty of time to make the journey, settle in, eat, and get ready to head to Poggibonsi in the afternoon.
The final part of the trip (the Siena area) is beginning, and it’ll revolve around the "Via Francigena" (the walking route), which I’ll follow—mostly by mountain bike, with a bit of walking—starting from Colle di Val d'Elsa. I’ll also do quite a few visits while staying in the left half of the map above.
The "Via Francigena" is a pilgrimage route that runs from Canterbury to Rome. Since I’m not a pilgrim, I see it as a long-distance trail (GR). In Tuscany, I’ve traveled it from the north of the region up to Colle di Val d'Elsa, the town from which I’ll pick up the route again heading south.
The stages as listed on the "Via Francigena" website:
Stage 32: From San Gimignano to Monteriggioni (starting from Colle di Val d'Elsa)
Stage 33: From Monteriggioni to Siena
Stage 34: From Siena to Ponte d'Arbia
Stage 35: From Ponte d'Arbia to San Quirico (as far as Buonconvento)
I decided to check out the Poggio Imperiale fortress in Poggibonsi.
This fortress is the first major (unfinished) fortification project of the Florentine possessions by the Medici at the very beginning of the 16th century. I couldn’t quite picture the shape of the fortress with its walls due to the complexity of the terrain. Inside, the pentagonal-plan citadel (cassero) is built on a spur, and that’s what I’ll be visiting. I took the photo from the San Lucchese monastery, located on a slightly higher hill.
The spur is completely blocked by this wall, and the only entrance to the citadel is the gate you see in the background (photo below). You then pass through a long tunnel to reach a barracks area and emerge onto the parade ground.
In the photo above, the wall and barracks area are on the left; the parade ground, on the right, extends to the end of the spur.
I’m now on the parade ground, looking toward the barracks.
From the end of the spur, the view over Poggibonsi and its surroundings is expansive, here looking toward the Strozzavolpe castle.
Next, I head to the San Lucchese monastery. The church, preceded by a portico, has a single nave. At the entrance to a chapel, there’s a series of frescoes illustrating the story of Saint Stephen. The saint is taken in his cradle by devils who carry him away by boat; they place a little devil in the cradle to trick his nurse, who might not notice the horns and think the child is still there (Cennino Cennini, 1388). It’s like a graphic novel before the genre was even invented (or a fictionalized life, if you prefer).
I end the day in Colle di Val d'Elsa by covering a short section of the "Via Francigena" (which can only be done on foot). It’s the crossing of the river park; the trail follows the river from the swimming pool to the southern exit of the town (frazione di Gracciano).
A refreshing route, perfect for a swim in some spots, all just steps away from the city.
I’m spending the day in Colle di Val d'Elsa (see yesterday’s map), with a visit planned in the morning and mountain biking along the "Via Francigena" in the afternoon—all under mediocre and quite chilly weather (a sweatshirt was necessary). The San Pietro complex occupies the premises of the former eponymous monastery in the upper town; it recently opened, and the presentation is meticulous.
Here’s a painting titled "Birth of the Virgin" (late Trecento); if you look at it as a testimony, Cennino Cennini painted a Tuscan interior from that era.
From the same period (second half of the Trecento), a Sienese painter, Luca di Tommé, painted numerous Madonnas, including this one, which comes from the church of Pernina, a rural church lost in the Montagnola on the municipality of Sovicille (see the day after tomorrow).
He wasn’t an innovator but a painter inspired by Duccio di Buoninsegna, who lived 70 years before him.
Two centuries later (1581, Simone Ferri da Poggibonsi), this painting has almost purely utilitarian value, featuring a model of the city on a tray. The patrons hoped that by offering it to an ecclesiastical dignitary, Colle would become the seat of a bishopric.
A leap of a few centuries brings us to Antonio Puccinelli, who, in 1859, painted a man with stunning realism. But who is this man? It’s Saint Peter... and I’ve cropped a detail from an Assumption with 2 Saints.
There’s no doubt this artist was interested in photography. But he wasn’t a photographer—he was a painter: Adamo Lucherini. I photographed an oil on canvas exhibited in 1915: "portrait of my father." Amazing!
To wrap up the visit, let’s return to the riverside in what is now the river park. Antonio Salvetti (who was a painter, architect, and mayor of Colle) painted in 1895 "the niche, summer on the banks of the Elsa"; I recognized a place I passed through, with a much sunnier atmosphere in the painting than during yesterday’s walk.
In the afternoon, shortly after leaving by mountain bike from the "frazione" of Gracciano, I arrive at the place called "Le Caldane," a spring feeding the Elsa that has been known since antiquity. It was developed into thermal baths during the Etruscan, Roman, and medieval periods; a few parts of the pools remain, which are masonry (probably a reconstruction, I think).
The trail crosses the countryside and arrives in the village of Strove on a well-restored square, set back from the road.
We don’t follow this road for long; a network of paths and, finally, a very small road lead to Badia a Isola, a former abbey built on a height that once gave the impression of being on an island. It’s a Romanesque construction from the 12th century, with an entire village surrounding the abbey.
The last part of the trail leads to Monteriggioni, to the hamlet at the foot of the hill crowned by the famous walls. I return to Colle di Val d'Elsa by road.
Cool, overcast weather all day with the threat of showers. It’ll be a transition day; since planning a long mountain-bike ride is risky, I won’t leave Monteriggioni. Instead, I’ll walk across Siena following the "Via Francigena" route, from "porta Camollia" in the north to "porta Romana" in the south. This isn’t a visit to Siena—I’ve already been there.
A quick detour to see the "palazzo pubblico" from the side you never see—the back (photo taken in "piazza del mercato").
Then, to get to "porta Romana", I take "Via di Pantaneto", then "Via Roma". Along the way, I pass the church of San Giorgio. The interior was completely redone in the 18th century (appearance after the 1731–1738 renovation).
Once outside "Porta Romana", I see it as a traveler arriving from Rome via the "Via Cassia". Built in the 1320s, it was a monumental entrance.
The structure consists of two arches (visible in a row in the photo above). Between the arches is a space enclosed by side walls—this entire ensemble forms "Porta Romana".
The day after tomorrow, I’ll leave from "Porta Romana" to continue south along the "Via Francigena".
In the afternoon, a temporary break in the weather gives me time to do a short stretch of the "Via Francigena" northwest of Siena. Starting from a spot on the SP101 (near a rural guesthouse), the trail crosses a wood frequented by locals mushroom hunting (the season must be right). It’s followed by a rough section on small roads (around Le Querce, Le Coste, Poderuccio) that leads to "Viale Cavour", the avenue leading to "Porta Camollia", the northern entrance to the old city.
The end of the day is spent in steady rain (luckily, I finished my route). It feels like night falls much earlier than usual because of the lack of light.
Persistent rain for most of the night.
I’m heading back to Colle di Val d'Elsa one last time, but this time I take tiny roads—some of them unpaved—that wind through the Montagnola.
Rural churches are scattered across villages (like Ancaiano) and even out in the countryside, like the Church of Pernina (San Giovanni Battista Church, mentioned in 1078, Romanesque). There was probably a hamlet here back then. One of the paintings I saw the day before yesterday came from this church (Luca di Tommè’s *Madonna and Child*).
I’m checking out what makes Colle so prosperous today: crystal (95% of Italy’s production, 15% of the world’s). The region originally produced glass, and in the 19th and 20th centuries, Colle was a major glassmaking hub. The brand-new Crystal Museum is on an old production site, where a furnace and its chimney have been preserved and integrated into the surrounding area (lower town).
From the Trecento onward, glass was produced in the Valdelsa, especially in Gambassi Terme (about 30 km from Colle). This town "invented" a glass model that’s stood the test of time: the Gambassi. Here’s a modern reproduction of it (based on the info provided, you can still buy this glass today).
After strict crystal standards were adopted (in the 1950s or 1960s, if I remember correctly—so take that with a grain of salt), manufacturers took a major turn. They brought in "designers," and the models produced changed completely.
Here’s the "Pitagora" glass, designed by Marco Zanusso (1969)—a triangle-circle combo, with a transition from base to container.
In the same vein, here’s the "Mapan" glass, designed by Sergio Asti (1970)—a square-circle combo, with the same base-to-container transition. Though it came after the previous one, this glass was more successful: it’s part of the MOMA’s permanent collection in New York.
A few more years later… 1986. Angelo Mangiarotti created "Ice Stopper" (sorry for the poor photo quality). This glass is a sloped cylinder (but not *too* sloped—it still needs to stay upright). It’s not quite a perfect cylinder, though, because it has an inner protrusion (an outer indentation) with a smooth shape. Its purpose? To keep ice cubes from reaching the drinker’s lips. Now *that’s* peak futility.
That’s all for the Crystal Museum (you can tour some of the factories—I didn’t).
The afternoon was spent in the countryside between Monteriggioni and Siena, with scattered showers. The "Via Francigena" winds along the foothills of the Montagnola, roughly at the border between farmland and wooded areas (so parts are in the forest, others at the edge). I remember one stretch (about 800 meters) where the wheels were completely caked in sticky mud, making it nearly impossible to move. That was a result of yesterday’s rain and last night’s downpour.
Castello della Chiocciola, a private castle along the "Via Francigena."
The last part of the route skirts the "Pian del Lago" area, a former lake drained in the 18th century to create farmland. A monument commemorates the project, which required major work—including the construction of a drainage tunnel. Here’s the entrance (the tunnel goes under a hill to reach a valley where the water could flow out).
I linked up with yesterday’s route just past the structures (monument, tunnel) in the "Pian del Lago" area.
About 1 km from the campsite, there’s a winery with direct sales: after stopping by, I’ve got a case of Chianti (Colli Senesi) and a case of Vermentino to fit into the caravan’s storage. I take a quick stroll through the center of Sovicille and then head out for the day.
I plan to go mountain biking this morning, a hike in the early afternoon, and a visit afterward.
For the mountain biking part on the "Via Francigena," that means picking up the route at Porta Romana (Siena), where I stopped the day before yesterday. I’ll head southeast away from Siena, following "Strada di Certosa"; the road descends and offers views of the city.
I’m about 2 km from Porta Romana, and you can clearly see "Torre del Mangia" on the right and the cathedral on the left.
The next photo is taken from farther away, after leaving the urban area, and a bit more to the left; as a result, the cathedral (clearly visible) is on the right side of the photo.
The foreground (the bottom of the photo), with plowed fields and crops on the hillside instead of large wooded areas, gives a preview of the landscape to come—the "Crete Senesi," the clay-rich Sienese hills.
I continue to a place called Renuccio (not marked on the map; this hamlet is south of Bucciano).
After lunch, I’ll walk a loop called "Anello delle Biancane di Leonina"; it’s right in the heart of the "Crete Senesi," quite far from the "Via Francigena" route. This is the spot labeled "Crete Senesi Asciano" on the map.
But before reaching the start of the hike, this photo, taken along SP438, perfectly captures the "Crete Senesi" landscape: rows of cypress trees, crops and plowed fields covering the entire hillside up to the summit, farms perched on the hilltops, fewer wooded areas (no forests, just groves), and little (if any) vineyards or olive groves.
The hike (or walk; about 5–6 km) starts from a parking lot near the road. It’s characterized by the presence of "biancane," clay mounds covered with sparse vegetation except on the south-facing side; on this southern slope, the alternating rain and sun create small ravines (erosion), and no vegetation manages to take hold.
A panoramic view of the "biancane" area; I assume the name comes from the fact that these mounds create white or light patches in the landscape. In any case, the color is reminiscent of the ravines seen in the Apennines at the start of the trip.
View of the village of Mucigliani (on the side opposite the "biancane"). Among the crops, there were cereals, sunflowers, and others I didn’t identify; by this date, everything had been harvested.
I reach near the highest point of the hike; the "biancane" appear from a different angle, and a small pond has been created for irrigation (acting as a reservoir).
Near the high point of the hike, looking toward Mucigliani.
At the highest point of the hike, on a flat area, a stone artwork by French artist Jean-Paul Philippe (1993) is installed; it’s called "transit site." A slab, a chair, and a window (all made of stone) evoke the lying-sitting-standing positions and relate to the sun’s position at sunset during the summer solstice.
I arrived here following a "strada bianca" (white road) between two rows of cypress trees, passing near the Leonina castle, now transformed into a luxury accommodation.
The return (the hike is a loop) crosses the area of the "biancane."
From the "biancane," you can see, in a line, the small pond and the village of Mucigliani.
Once the hike was over, as soon as I drove off, the road climbed, and the panorama included the "strada bianca" leading to Leonina as well as the "biancane." Looking at the line of hills in the distance, you can immediately tell that this background isn’t part of the "crete senesi" (Sienese clay hills).
A little further on, from the roadside, a ray of sunshine on the "crete senesi."
A few more kilometers, and a small road leads to Mucigliani from the SP438 (road access to the village).
I arrived on the map at the point marked SP438.
From there, I head toward Monteroni d'Arbia: the route is on a dirt road (strada bianca) passing through the village of San Martino in Grania. On this dirt road, I’ll cross paths with several cyclists (there are more here than on a regular road), which leads me to the following digression after doing some research.
An annual cyclotourist event takes place near Siena called EROICA (start in Gaiole in Chianti). It’s a "vintage" race with several routes (distances) using as many "strade bianche" as possible. Associations have been created to preserve these roads, which have heritage value (keeping them unpaved). There are such dirt sections in Chianti, in the "Crete Senesi," in the Val di Merse, and in the Val d'Orcia.
The approach is reminiscent of preserving cobblestone sectors in northern France.
Early in the cycling season (before Milan-San Remo), the "Strade Bianche" race takes place on these roads around Siena, finishing in Piazza del Campo. It’s a road race where part of it (the decisive part) doesn’t take place on asphalt... which brings to mind Paris-Roubaix. The rest is different: no cobblestones but "strade bianche" (over 70 km), no flat terrain but continuous elevation changes with constant ups and downs.
The San Martino in Grania section is one of the longest and toughest in the race.
End of digression.
After Monteroni d'Arbia, I go to Murlo. Many Etruscan remains (archaeological site) have been found there and gathered in an antiquarium-museum housed in the former episcopal palace.
Here’s the reconstruction of a roof edge. The pieces at the top, with gargoyles and human-headed antefixes, protect the wooden beams from water. The terracotta pieces at the bottom serve a decorative function; they’re arranged repetitively to form a frieze. There are several models, including a horse race (below).
You can also find terracotta statues, like this sphinx placed on the reconstruction where it would have been in ancient times—on the roof ridge.
And to finish, here’s Murlo’s most famous statue: the "Cappellone," a seated man with a trimmed beard and a wide-brimmed hat. Imagination has led some to call him the "Cowboy of Murlo," while others see a sombrero in his hat. His position was likely on the roof ridge, like the sphinx.
The return to Sovicille is partly on "strade bianche" this time located in the Val di Merse (section Murlo-Radi, then another after Ville di Corsano).
Google didn’t let me return (virtually) to Sovicille—the maximum number of intermediate stops for the route had been reached.
This day starts under bright sunshine, which will last to make it one of the most beautiful days of the trip.
I head toward Torri, a "frazione" of Sovicille where the former Torri Abbey is located, and you can visit its cloister (it’s the point below Rosia on the map). The village sits high on the slope of the Montagnola.
It retains a medieval feel with walls that serve as an enclosure, an access gate, and narrow streets. On the right side of the photo, you can see the church of Santa Mustiola, and further to the right, buildings adjoining the abbey’s cloister.
After passing through the access gate, I’m on Piazza Grande. This lovely square is in the civil part of the hamlet; to reach the religious part (the former abbey), you have to go under the arch visible at the back of the square and walk along the church’s full length to the cloister entrance.
On one side of the square, you can see the communal oven, quite rare and perfectly preserved.
The abbey’s cloister rises over three levels, built with different materials (stone, brick, wood) at different times (late 12th century, 14th century, 15th century). The photos go from general views to details.
The cloister’s lower level is Romanesque; the effect created by the bichromy is spectacular. The columns are circular or hexagonal, smooth or sculpted.
View of the column-capital-pulvino-arch base stack.
I use the term "pulvino" to describe this inverted pyramid-shaped element placed above the capital. It serves both a structural role in supporting the arch’s base and a decorative one. I found the term in Italian documentation but haven’t found a valid translation for this architectural element, nor do I know its name in French.
These "pulvini," all unique, are mainly decorated with geometric patterns. The characteristics of the cloister’s lower level date its construction to the late 12th century, around the same time as the church’s consecration (1189).
Biblical scenes are another, less common decoration on the "pulvini"; here’s Cain murdering Abel.
The church isn’t open for visits (at least not today). The abbey buildings adjoining the cloister once housed a winery (when?), as huge barrels and fermentation vats remain. This cloister is a hidden gem (reopened during summer 2024 with limited hours after a restoration period).
I then move from a small region around Siena (Val di Merse) to another small area (the "Crete Senesi") to go mountain biking along the Via Francigena. You can immediately recognize the Sienese clay lands in the photo below, taken from the Via Cassia (SS2 on the map) south of Siena.
The Via Francigena route from Renuccio to Isola d'Arbia is uninteresting. From Isola d'Arbia onward, it’s a whole different story, and I’ll ride all the way to Ponte d'Arbia on "strade bianche" or trails.
I’m about ten kilometers from Siena, but looking north, the city is clearly visible—you can spot the "Torre del Mangia" and the cathedral.
The route passes near the "Grancia di Cuna," an example of a farm-hospital that was transformed into a fortified farm in the 14th century to protect stored harvests in the granaries. The whole structure is impressive.
A detour leads to the hamlet and the entrance of the fortified farm. These buildings aren’t open to visitors, but their imposing appearance holds up. Of course, everything is built with brick.
Leaving the Cuna farm, the path climbs into the hills west of the Val d'Arbia and stays there until Ponte d'Arbia. At the top of the first climb, the fortified farm appears in a setting that places it right in the "Crete Senesi."
This was followed by about ten kilometers through the hills between Monteroni d'Arbia and Ponte d'Arbia.
Surroundings of Monteroni d'Arbia, rows of cypress trees.
Surroundings of Monteroni d'Arbia, rows of cypress trees.
Monteroni d'Arbia in the valley.
Surroundings of Monteroni d'Arbia.
Surroundings of Monteroni d'Arbia.
Surroundings of Ponte d'Arbia.
Back to the starting point of the MTB hike (Isola d'Arbia) via Via Cassia.
The landscapes I enjoyed the most during the trip were those of the "Crete Senesi", the Sienese clay hills.
Today's map: there's a direct road between the Abbey of San Galgano (point west of Monticiano) and Chiusdino, which doesn't appear on the map.
On the road leading to the Abbey of San Galgano (where I'm headed), following the "Torrente Rosia" upstream, you pass by the "Ponte della Pia".
This bridge, originally Roman and rebuilt in the 13th century, spans the river with a single graceful arch. Despite the recent rains, I can descend into the stream bed. Today, the bridge has no parapet—I don’t know if it was built that way or if it’s the result of time.
After arriving at the site made famous by San Galgano, I visit the abbey, then the hermitage. I’ll present the route in reverse to follow the chronological order.
At the top of a hill (Monte Siepi) stands a structure called the rotunda. The interior features alternating bands of two colors.
At the center of the rotunda is the spot where it all began: a rock into which San Galgano, a wealthy young noble, plunged his sword as a sign of renouncing pleasures and military life. It’s been there since 1180... protected by a plexiglass dome—clearly needed to put an end to some *very* predictable attempts.
After 1180, San Galgano lived as a hermit on this hill.
Things moved quickly after that: Galgano’s death (1181), canonization (1185), construction of an oratory and the rotunda... the site’s fame grew. Expansion in the Trecento and the choice of Ambrogio Lorenzetti to fresco the chapel (walls, lunette, vault).
Meanwhile, in 1218, construction began on the grand Cistercian Abbey of San Galgano. They chose a flat spot at the foot of Montesiepi hill. The church is a large Gothic-style nave, roofless since the late 18th century.
The central nave, viewed toward the choir.
Among the conventual buildings (mostly gone), a beautiful chapter house.
The abbey is located in the municipality of Chiusdino in the Val di Merse, near the river; the village is 250 meters higher, and no matter how you approach it, you have to climb several kilometers to get there.
A medieval village with a small museum containing artifacts related to San Galgano and the abbey.
San Galgano thrusts his sword into the rock. Urbano da Cortona, marble bas-relief, 1466.
From the Montesiepi hermitage, a Madonna and Child. Niccolò di Segna, tempera and gold on panel, 1336.
Reliquary of San Galgano’s head. Pace di Valentino, goldsmith from the second half of the 13th century. As the title suggests, San Galgano’s head was inside.
I then travel about 30 km on small roads through a wooded area to reach the Petriolo thermal baths, or rather the "bagni di Petriolo." There’s a free natural spa with several pools, among other things. The water springs at 43°C (the hottest pool is close to that temperature) with a strong enough flow to keep all the pools warm. It’s rich in hydrogen sulfide (hence the smell) and minerals. These baths have been known since antiquity, with periods of prosperity (construction) and periods of neglect.
Today, both at the abbey and the thermal baths, there was a large crowd (mostly Italians, hardly any foreign tourists—was it because it was a Sunday?).
On my way back to Sovicille, 2 km before the town, I pass by the parish church of "Ponte allo Spino." It’s lit by a fairly low sun that highlights the color of the stone before it soon falls into shadow.
Another chilly, rainy day; I’ve planned an indoor activity for the afternoon, but I’d like to do a short stretch of the Via Francigena this morning. So I’m heading to Buonconvento and setting off on a loop that takes me from Ponte d’Arbia to Buonconvento along the Via Francigena. A sweatshirt is a must, and I finish the loop in a few raindrops.
Buonconvento will be my endpoint for the Via Francigena on this trip.
The rain doesn’t last all through midday, so I can take a stroll around town (a medieval town surrounded by walls). Below is the west side of the walls.
I’m visiting the abbey of "Monte Oliveto Maggiore," located in the municipality of Asciano but closer to Buonconvento. Although the abbey is in the "Crete Senesi," the landscape is different: forest and "calanchi" (ravines or badlands).
These ravines look a lot like the ones I saw in the Apennines at the start of the trip (same type of soil , same erosion phenomenon).
The abbey is active, occupied by Olivetan monks (a Benedictine order); the main cloister, entirely frescoed, is the artistic marvel of the abbey. Luca Signorelli began decorating the cloister’s perimeter (1497–1498); Giovanni Antonio Bazzi (Il Sodoma) completed it (1505 and later; he was 28 in 1505). It’s one of his earliest documented works.
These frescoes depict the life of Saint Benedict, a more or less legendary tale.
Benedict leaves his father’s house to study in Rome. He’s accompanied by his servant Cyrilla.
First miracle: he repairs a plate or sieve broken by his servant. You can see the servant and the broken plate, Saint Benedict, and the miraculously repaired plate—this is the left part of the fresco. On the right, Il Sodoma painted himself in a luxurious Renaissance court costume. The far-right part is out of frame.
Benedict makes a spring gush from the mountaintop. He’s depicted twice in the fresco, which blends portrait and landscape.
Florent, a priest jealous of Benedict, sends prostitutes to the monastery (to discredit Benedict). Group portraits, architecture, and a distant landscape.
This fresco is by Luca Signorelli: Benedict tells the monks where and when they ate outside the monastery. In the photo, you only see the scene of the meal in an inn; pictorially, that’s the main part of the fresco. Benedict’s intervention is shown in a small space not visible in the photo, at the top right of what’s shown.
Benoît miraculously obtains flour and restores the monks. Two scenes: the miracle of the flour and the meal. A little anecdote in the foreground of the meal scene: the first monk on the right takes his neighbor’s bread (in addition to his own) under the amused gaze of the monk serving.
With his gaze, Benoît frees a peasant from his bonds. A scene with four portraits (Benoît, the peasant, the two soldiers) plus a spectator page. A landscape background with the peasant’s arrest scene.
The fresco cycle covers the entire cloister; the gallery is enclosed on all four sides to protect them. As you walk through the gallery, the frescoes are at eye level and about 1 to 1.5 meters away (protective barrier). These rare conditions (often, they’re much lower and farther away) allow you to fully appreciate them.
In the refectory, the table is set for the evening meal.
The convent buildings include a beautiful library whose sculpted door is the work of a monk.
Back to Sovicille after realizing, upon leaving the abbey, that the afternoon had been quite rainy.
There will be a day in Siena during the trip; I won’t be visiting what the city is famous for (I’ve already done that on a previous trip). I’ll explore some more off-the-beaten-path spots and do some shopping. I’ll start with the "Collegiata di Santa Maria in Provenzano." Built around 1600, it features a beautiful travertine façade with a still-prominent Renaissance influence. The pilasters play a major role in the appearance of this façade.
It was constructed to serve as a reliquary for a miraculous statue: the Madonna di Provenzano, which is housed in a tabernacle at the center of the high altar. In front of this altar, beneath the dome, are the coats of arms of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and his wife (in marble).
A very beautiful church with no crowds at all (I’m alone inside).
Through small streets, I’ll head to "Piazza San Francesco," the heart of a student district.
The façade of the Church of San Francesco is the result of a neo-Gothic restoration from the early 20th century.
Behind the façade, the single nave has an impressive volume. Great height, wooden-beamed roof, flat apse: it seems simplicity and monumental character were often sought after in Franciscan churches. The effect is even more striking since there’s no one around.
Among the works on display, I chose the "Martyrdom of the Franciscan Friars" by Ambrogio Lorenzetti (a detached fresco, around 1320). A century after the founding of the order, missions had gone to the East, and some had been massacred, though it’s unclear which event is depicted here. It’s a rather rare representation for that era.
The pagoda (though it’s not actually a pagoda) has no specifically Eastern architectural elements; the scene is extremely violent and frightens some female onlookers, who recoil. The executioners are particularly hideous.
I continue my walk through the same neighborhood and arrive near Fonte Nuova, one of the fountains that supplied the city with water (built in the Trecento).
In the afternoon, I visit the Sanctuary of Saint Catherine of Siena, constructed over various periods (up to 1939) and incorporating the Benincasa house, where Catarina’s family lived—a family of 25 children.
The oratory of the kitchen was arranged in the Cinquecento at the site of the family kitchen. The main altar depicts Santa Catarina receiving the stigmata (by Bernardino Fungai). The other walls are decorated with scenes from Santa Catarina’s life.
Lower down in the house (which is on a hillside), the oratory of the bedroom was restructured in the 19th century.
The sanctuary’s church preserves a miraculous crucifix (a painted cross) from the 12th century linked to Santa Catarina. It was in front of this crucifix that Catarina is said to have received the stigmata in Pisa in 1375.
You can’t stroll through Siena’s streets overlooking the Campo without being reminded of this square: this will be my last photo of Siena.
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This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
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.
I'm starting my first travel journal since VF reopened!
This will mostly be to share my impressions and some photos, with a few days' delay, but I'm starting this journal while I'm still here.
First, I'd like to thank those who helped me prepare for this trip.
I was able to organize this stay in one of the most expensive countries in the world thanks to the home-exchange principle. Not necessarily a direct swap, but through a points system, which is more practical for choosing where you want to go without it having to be a reciprocal exchange.
For this trip, there will already be two different accommodations. We'll see how it goes after that.
The first place is near Yverdon-les-Bains, close to Lake Neuchâtel.
So, we're going to explore this area!
We arrived under capricious weather that won’t leave us for the next few days!
We had dinner at a pizzeria recommended by *Le Routard* in Yverdon, then took a little nighttime stroll through the town center before heading inland to settle into our accommodation.
We discovered a very large, quiet house—and especially the cat that stayed behind! Funny for a couple of mice! He’ll be sleeping with us 😹
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
Summer 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, so here I am back in Swedish Lapland for summer 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my partner Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which is, from what we’ve read, stunning but very busy (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last true wilderness—sounds like a dream, right?!
The downside of this plan is that there’s no way to resupply in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long-distance trekking either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part of the trip with Sarek in mind. Oh well, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (the classic route), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official trail and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before reaching Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to bail on Sarek.
All in all, that’s 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day and 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our fully packed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides we used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
08/16 – Camping at Skarja
08/17 – Ruohtesvagge
08/18 – Ruohtesvagge - Padjelantaleden
08/19 – Padjelantaleden - Ritsem – End of the trek
08/20–24 - End of the trip (Lullea - Stockholm)
And of course, the recap
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
This travel journal summarizes a trip I took in March to Argentine and Chilean Patagonia. It starts in El Calafate and ends in Ushuaia. During my planning, I considered looking into the Australis cruise from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, as well as the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. In both cases, I was put off by the prices. Instead of the cruise, I found two interesting wildlife excursions from Punta Arenas: whale watching in the Strait of Magellan and observing king penguins in Tierra del Fuego. The journey to Ushuaia was by bus. For Torres del Paine, things were a bit confusing, so I reached out to two agencies. In the end, I went with a rental car option, overnight stays on-site, and day hikes. I shared my full itinerary with the agency and ended up being taken care of by a local Argentine agency and a Chilean one.
So, here we go...
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!
From Southern Shikoku, between land and sea, to the blue waters of Miyakojima and finally Tokyo’s megacity
Hi everyone,
I have to admit, I really hesitated before deciding to write this travel journal... Writing one takes a lot of time and energy, and since this is my 4th trip, I wondered if it would even interest anyone other than myself (both for the discovery and the writing). But after a few people asked, "Are you going to write a journal?" and especially after rediscovering the joy of reading other travelers’ journals about Japan or elsewhere on this forum, I’ve decided to share my 4th installment in the Land of the Rising Sun here.
The itinerary:
27 full days, from late May to late June 2025, right in the middle of the rainy season, including:
-->13 days in Shikoku, from Kochi (Kochi Prefecture) to Matsuyama (Ehime Prefecture)
-->7 days in Miyakojima (Okinawa Prefecture)
-->7 days in Tokyo
The trip was decided on fairly last-minute again this year.
Since I regularly check flight prices to track fluctuations for this destination even without concrete plans, stumbling upon a slightly cheaper direct flight (900 €) than what I’d seen in previous months (around 1,200–1,400 € on average) for a Paris-Tokyo route with Japanese airline ANA was too tempting to resist the urge to return to this enchanting country. After much hesitation between exploring the San’in region (Matsue, Tottori, Yamaguchi) and Southern Shikoku, the decision was made—I took the plunge! The ticket is booked: Paris to Kochi with a layover in Tokyo, all with ANA, the airline I’d been dreaming of... for 1,120 € per person. Okay, it’s not cheap, but it’s better than in 2023.
Departure in 2 weeks! Now I just have to get everything ready!
Intense prep work over these next 2 weeks to:
finalize a more precise itinerary and reach an agreement—yep, because even though we both love Japan, our preferences differ slightly, and we have to choose between exploring new places or revisiting beloved spots...
decide how much time to spend in each area without rushing while still exploring
research places that might interest us and watch videos about Japan
book accommodations: yes, it’s possible to do this on the spot, but last year, we realized that last-minute options were pretty expensive, so we’re booking ahead—though we’ll keep a few options open in case better deals pop up later
reserve rental cars
order yen
check the weather regularly and wonder if choosing the *tsuyu* (rainy season) was really a good idea—are we going to be drenched the whole time???
"What hard work," you might say! Going to Japan for a month—what a tough life!
Despite this being my 4th trip, the excitement is just as intense as the first time.
The only small downside is that when we booked the flight, there weren’t many seats left, so we’re only sitting together on the international return flight. Plus, on the way there, we have middle seats.
Another lingering question: what French-language films will be available? According to the internet, the selection seems limited.
Oh well, these are just minor details—it’s already time to fly!
PS: I’ll be posting slowly and irregularly... so for those interested, be patient, and maybe set an alert...
Kattegat isn’t just the name of the village in the TV series *Vikings*—it’s also the stretch of water separating Denmark from Sweden... the sea, basically! And further north, you’ve got Norway and its fjords!
Originally, I’d planned to just do a loop around Kattegat, with the *Under* restaurant in Lindesnes as our anniversary treat... but along the way, we thought, why not "push" a little further north, keeping an eye on the budget since we’d chosen to travel by car in June 2025 through Scandinavia.
Why by car when most travelers opt for a camper van, while others prefer the comfort of cruises?
Well, because we don’t own a camper van, renting one is pricey, and then you’ve got to add fuel costs (those things guzzle gas!), ferry fees, and other "tolls." All things considered, we went for mostly rentals—especially since there were four of us at the start of the trip.
We spent the first week in Denmark with our daughter and son-in-law. Then they flew back to Belgium, and we continued our adventure as a couple.
For accommodation, we mainly booked Airbnb apartments, which helped keep costs down and, most importantly, let us prepare our own meals (diet, diet!).
In this travel journal, you’ll discover (or rediscover, for those who followed my older ones) our unbridled love for theme parks, museums, unique experiences, and—especially in Denmark—Legos!
Unfortunately, we didn’t do any hikes this year because the unpredictable weather had made the trails slippery, and since I’d already taken three tumbles during the trip, I didn’t want to risk another!
In the end, we traveled for 32 days, covered 6,200 km, and most importantly, discovered the charming country of Denmark, marveled at Norway’s breathtaking fjords—all without suffering the heatwave that hit France and Belgium that June!
If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
A little sneak peek?
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:
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
