après un changement de programme, nous sommes finalement partis sur la route des Balkans, en fourgon, avec nos enfants de 2 et 4 ans.
Voici donc le carnet (davantage de photos sur mon site...):
Voyage improvisé vers les Balkans ("montagne boisée" en turc). 7815 km en fourgon sur les routes de l'ex-Yougoslavie, à travers la Bosnie, le Monténégro, l'Albanie, la Macédoine et la Serbie. 7815 km au rythme des rencontres et des sourires. 7815 km pendant lesquels les mosquée deviennent monastères et les lacs deviennent mer. 7815 km pour tenter de comprendre les problématiques d'une guerre si proche
Récit d'un périple en liberté au travers de la montagne boisée.
Jour: 487 km Total: 487 km
Camion chargé, en route vers l’est. J’écris route vers l’est car nous souhaitons rejoindre la Turquie voire l’Arménie si la température, les finances et la contrainte temporelle nous le permettent.
C’est cependant vers l’ouest que nous nous dirigeons . Plus précisément, la Vendée. Étape incontournable dans la maisonnette familiale. Nous nous éloignons donc de notre but pour quelques jours, mais promis, l’est sera notre chemin les semaines à venir.
L’Allemagne bat le Brésil en demi-finale. Nous comptions dormir en Allemagne le 13 juillet au soir. Le 13 juillet, c’est la finale, l’Allemagne est en finale, nous ne dormirons pas en Allemagne. Nous craignons de ne pas fermer l’œil de la nuit en cas de victoire germanique. L’itinéraire est à revoir…
Jour: 482 km Total: 969 km
Traverser la France d’ouest en est est plutôt inhabituel. Bourges passée, c’est en bord de Loire, à La Charité sur Loire que nous nous posons pour la nuit. L’occasion d’une promenade le long du fleuve sauvage…
Jour: 566 km Total: 1525 km
Nous traversons les départements 18 ou 58, il faut dire, des départements que je ne connaissais pas. Dans certains villages, l’exode rurale n’est pas un mythe. Les commerçants ont baissé le rideau depuis longtemps, certaines maisons sont à l’abandon, les volets sont clos et les rues désertes.
Nous gagnons la Suisse, et, après avoir roulé toute la journée, nous sortons de l’autoroute en quête d’un parc ou d'un toboggan. Une heure de pause salvatrice puis nous trouvons une station service sur l’autoroute (seul lieu où il est autorisé de passer la nuit en camping car en dehors des campings en Suisse) pour passer la nuit.
Jour: 659 km Total: 2184 km
06h40. On frappe avec insistance sur la tôle du fourgon. Police, contrôle des passeports.
L’Allemagne est championne du monde de football.
La Suisse est traversée rapidement, puis, afin de gagner l’Allemagne, quelques kilomètres en Autriche doivent être empruntés. Le GPS nous fait passer à nouveau (cf Slovénie octobre 2013) par cette étroite passerelle interdite aux véhicules dépassant la hauteur de 2,40 m. Rebelote, c’est en warnings et au milieu de la chaussée que je la franchis, au risque de toucher les montants de l’édifice.
Pause salvatrice au Ammersee.
Sans conteste, les allemands savent faire. Il suffit de repérer au hasard un lac sur une carte, de s’y rendre et le lieu est toujours fantastique. C’est ce que nous avons fait. Un lac allemand est toujours servi avec une promenade agréable, une plage accueillante, une glace et un café.
Les enfants se sont endormis, nous traversons l’Autriche puis entrons en Slovénie.
Je gare le fourgon au bord du lac de Bled où nous avions dormi en octobre dernier.
Même place, même promenade, même lumière, même lieu formidable.
Jour: 317 km Total: 2501 km
A 9h00 du matin, nous sommes chassés par le gardien du parking qui s’évertue à vouloir me faire payer les 5 euros journaliers que coûte l’emplacement.
Les kilomètres défilent et nous réfléchissons. Financièrement et compte tenu de la distance à parcourir avec les enfants, il nous faut revoir nos plans. Nous partons donc sud-ouest, nous partons pour les Balkans. La frontière croate est passée. Nous trouvons un camping à la frontière bosniaque afin de peaufiner notre programme…
Carte en main, notre périple se dessine. Le début tout du moins. Traversée de la Bosnie-Herzégovine puis plage quelques jours au Monténégro pour les petits. La suite ? Je n’en sais rien…
Jour: 198 km Total: 2699 km
Je dilapide les derniers kunas dans quelques litres de diesel puis nous franchissons la frontière bosniaque.
La route serpente entre les collines.
Premier village, je me fais flasher. Deuxième village, j’ai encore droit à une photo. Après avoir testé le bon fonctionnement des radars bosniaques, je décide de lever le pied.
La majeure partie de la population en Bosnie est de confession musulmane. Dès la frontière passée, l’ambiance est caractéristique. Mosquées et tapis immenses qui sèchent à même le sol.
Nous arrivons à Bihac, première ville de Bosnie en venant de Croatie. Une voiture française se gare à côté de nous, ne s’acquitte pas du ticket de parking. Cinq minutes à peine se sont écoulées qu’un sabot l’immobilise. Moi qui hésitais à payer... Je change de l’argent à la banque, la vieille femme devant moi signe de son empreinte digitale.
Nous déjeunons à quatre pour 6 euros puis quelques pas dans cette cité agréable. L’appel à la prière nous rappelle qu’il est l’heure de poursuivre notre route.
Étonnant. Les traces de la guerre sont encore très visibles. De nombreuses maisons ont conservé les impacts de balles, lorsqu’elles ne sont pas encore à moitié détruites.
S’il fallait faire des statistiques, je dirais que la moitié des maisons ne sont pas achevées et pour la plupart ne le seront jamais, un quart d’entre elles sont en ruines, enfin, le dernier quart est constitué d’habitations achevées et ravalées.
Jajce est une étape intéressante à plusieurs titres. Petite ville agréable, elle abrite en son centre une cascade d’une vingtaine de mètres de hauteur, une forteresse (14ème siècle) qui la domine et des ruelles tortueuses et pavées.
Nous filons à la cascade puis posons nos roues pour la nuit à quelques kilomètres du centre, en bord de lac, sur le parking d’un hôtel. Nous nous réservons la visite plus approfondie pour le lendemain.
Jour: 173 km Total: 2872 km
Réveil tranquille, café à l’hôtel, les petits peuvent profiter des multiples structures de jeu de l’établissement.
Nous partons à l’assaut de la forteresse puis poursuivons notre périple.
Nous poursuivons sur la route de Sarajevo.
Travnik est une ville étrange, dépaysante à souhait. Un mélange d’orient et d’occident, de délabrement et de poussière.
Difficile de se garer. Enfin une place. Une belle place sous un panneau « interdiction de stationner ». Quatre hommes sont assis à une dizaine de mètres.
« Français ? »
« oui »
« vous pouvez vous garer »
Visiblement ils se chargent de surveiller le fourgon. De surcroît, ils semblent ne pas avoir d’autres obligations.
A l’image de ces quatre charmants messieurs, les rues et les cafés sont peuplés d’hommes. La présence des femmes est rare. L’atmosphère est singulière, étonnante, envoûtante, intrigante dans une certaine mesure. Géographiquement nous sommes en Europe mais l’image et le son ne semblent pas renvoyer cette réalité. A vrai dire, ce que nous voyons ne ressemble à rien que nous ne connaissions.
Deux heures se sont écoulées et les gars du parking ont disparu. Je déplace donc le fourgon.
Les enfants ne veulent pas marcher. Un peu d’ingéniosité et de compromis et la poussette simple se transforme en poussette double. Pour le moment, cela fonctionne malgré les signes de fatigue de l’engin.
Montée éprouvante (pour moi) jusqu’à la forteresse qui domine les minarets.
A notre retour, un gamin essaie par tous les moyens d’ouvrir les portes de notre véhicule. Je le chasse, il revient à la charge…
La route se poursuit et nous sommes en quête d’un lieu pour dormir. Vendeurs de CD, de DVD, de miel ou de pastèques se succèdent. La grande majorité des habitations est délabrée, détruites ou en chantier depuis plusieurs années. Les chiens sont errants en Bosnie., il y a en toujours un qui risque de passer sous mes roues. Tout cela est peu engageant pour passer la nuit.
Nous empruntons la seule autoroute bosniaque, celle qui mène à Sarajevo. L’espoir de trouver un lieu sinon accueillant, le moins hostile possible s’amenuise. Nous pénétrons dans la banlieue de Sarajevo. Poussière, chantiers, vendeurs en tous genres… Il est 19h00 passées. Une, deux, trois stations-service, un hôtel, un restaurant. Tout le monde connaît un camping à Sarajevo et tous nous indiquent une direction différente. Pas un ne parle anglais ou allemand et je ne parle toujours pas le bosniaque… Au péage, le guichetier, dans un anglais impeccable nous confirme qu’il existe un camping. Toujours tout droit.
Évidemment, pas le moindre camping à l’horizon.
Nous décidons de prendre la route de Mostar et de passer la nuit dans la première station-service se présentant. Les petits ont atteint leur LPM (limite de patience maximale). Il nous faut trouver un lieu rapidement ;
Nous suivons la signalisation qui doit nous mener vers Mostar. Je rate un panneau et voit s’éloigner la route convoitée. Je jure, je m’énerve et cherche un moyen de faire demi-tour. A la prochaine intersection, s’il faut franchir la ligne blanche ou un quelconque terre-plein, rien ne m’empêchera de parti dans le sens inverse… Rien, sauf ce panneau où est inscrit en blanc sur fond marron « CAMPING ». La flèche indique tout droit, je ravale aussitôt mes envies de bifurcations.
Il est 20h00, nous lâchons les petits sur cette immense étendue d’herbe, l’appel à la prière résonne, on peut enfin souffler.
Jour : 0 km Total : 2872 km
Le réceptionniste nous déconseille de prendre le fourgon pour visiter Sarajevo du fait des risques d’effraction.
Nous marchons donc un petit kilomètre jusqu’à la ligne de tramway n°3. Le tramway est une antiquité délabrée. Cependant il est composé de quelques wagons roulant sur des rails et comportant des sièges. Il s’agit donc bien, après investigation, d’un tramway.
La rame est vide. En trente minutes, elle se remplit progressivement frôlant l’implosion lorsque nous descendons enfin.
Nous nous promenons dans la vieille ville, le quartier ottoman. Encore une fois, l’orient est proche. Nous sommes vendredi, la grande prière va avoir lieu, les fidèles attendent l’appel du Muezzin, les odeurs de viande grillée emplissent les ruelles et leurs fumées s’échappent au dessus des toits, les effluves de narghilé nous surprennent ici et là...
Un parfum envoûtant à peine atténué par les touristes peu nombreux.
Mosquées, église, synagogue. Sarajevo, ville marquée, blessée, ville ressuscitée et ville pour tous.
Les enfants ne veulent pas marcher, la poussette souffre autant que mes biceps sur les pavés disjoints. Nous leur achetons des ballons gonflés à l’hélium pour avoir un peu de tranquillité. Dans les ruelles étroites, les passants se font percuter par cet engin roulant équipé de deux petites montgolfières. L’un des ballons s’envole, l’autre se dégonfle. La garantie internationale ne s’applique pas, d’ailleurs le vendeur a disparu…
Les bureks (chaussons à la viande) s’achètent dans la rue pour moins d’un euro. Un délice…
C’est ici que l’archiduc François Ferdinand, héritier du trône d’Autriche-Hongrie, s’est fait assassiné par un nationaliste serbe. Le 28 juin 1914, cet événement plongea l’Europe dans la première Guerre Mondiale.
Retour dans un tramway moins antique mais toujours aussi bondé. Nous sommes bloqués par une manifestation de soutien à Gaza qui, de fait, nous informe sur la situation proche-orientale.
Le frigo nous lâche.
Voilà un voyage intéressant à réaliser avec des enfants de bas âge.
Comment réagissent-ils? La route n'est pas trop longue?
Avez vous fait des randos tout de même?
Merci du partage
merci pour ton commentaire.
Les petits s'adaptent bien partout. La route, ce n'est pas un problème car le rythme est fait en fonction d'eux. Les pauses déjeuner peuvent durer 3 ou 4 heures si les lieux sont intéressants ou s'il y a des activités à faire.
Malheureusement pas de rando à proprement parlé mais des balades urbaines ou pas, des lacs...
Jour: 163 km Total : 3035 km
La route qui mène au lac de Boracko (Boracko Jezero) est très étroite, sinueuse et surplombe le vide.
Cependant la vision du plan d’eau cristalline confirme le choix du détour. Baignade et pique-nique dans un décor idyllique.
Les paysages sont superbes et nous transportent dans l’univers bucolique de « La vie est un miracle » d’Emir Kusturica.
Nous arrivons sous une chaleur de plomb à Mostar où le parking hors de prix nous servira d’abri pour la nuit.
J’aurais payé cher pour une bière bien fraîche. Finalement, l'épicerie du coin me l'offre pour moins d’un euro (le frigo est HS).
Mostar, avant d’être une destination touristique et surefaite, est une cité est l’histoire riche et tourmentée. Mostar était et reste une ville coupée en deux. Mostar est à dominante catholique et Mostar ouest musulmane. Pendant le conflit (1992-1995), le pont ottoman, symbole de la ville, est dynamité le 9 novembre 1993 par les forces croates afin d’empêcher les musulmans bosniaques de prendre le contrôle de la cité.
Le pont, classé au Patrimoine Mondial de l’Unesco a été reconstruit à l’identique avec certaines pierres d’origine en 2004.
Les touristes affluent de la côte croate peu lointaine et l’on y paie en euros. Hormis cette constatation, la ville est superbe et le pont, majestueux, concentre, à juste titre, toutes les attentions. Les vestiges des conflits sont encore visible en arrière-plan d’un centre-ville complètement rénové.
Jour: 214 km Total: 3249 km
Il fait déjà plus de 30°c dans le camion, il n’est que 8h00 du matin. La direction est celle de la Croatie, dans le but de rejoindre au plus vite le Monténégro. 7 km d’embouteillage à la frontière. Après 30 minutes d’attente, nous n’avons pas avancé d’un mètre. J’avais repéré une autre route sur la carte mais elle nous imposera un large contournement. Peu importe, il fait plus de 40°c dans le fourgon, il nous faut rouler au risque de griller sur place.
La route pour rejoindre Trebinje est superbe. Elle traverse des paysages de garrigue sous une chaleur accablante et le vacarme incessant des cigales.
Trebinje est la ville la plus méridionale de Bosnie. Il y flotte un parfum particulier. Passée la suffocation sur le parking, nous nous retrouvons sur le marché couvrant une place ombragée et couverte de cafés. Les garçons suscitent curiosité et amusement. Un marchand leur offre de abricots et nous faisons les provisions en fruits el légumes. Les tomates sont énormes et laides mais quel goût !
La vieille ville n’a rien d’exceptionnel mais encore une fois, elle dégage une douceur et une tranquillité appréciable.
Nous nous installons et commandons des bureks. Le patron nous en sert une quantité astronomique pour une somme dérisoire.
Jeiko, bosniaque ayant vécu en France nous interpelle et entame la discussion. Il s’interroge sur notre présence ici. « Comment et pourquoi vous retrouvez-vous là ? ». Visiblement, les touristes ne sont pas légion à Trebinje, il faut dire qu’excepté à Mostar et dans une moindre mesure à Sarajevo, nous n’en avons pas rencontré en Bosnie.
Nous quittons la ville en appréhendant la frontière croate. D’autant plus qu’il nous faut entrer en Croatie, en ressortir puis entrer à nouveau en Bosnie pour quelques kilomètres, en sortir, revenir en Croatie qu’il faudra quitter pour pénétrer au Monténégro.
En sortant de Trebinje, un panneau à gauche annonce Herzeg Novi, porte d’entrée du Monténégro. La route est neuve, elle n’est pas inscrite sur ma carte. Le passage de frontière se fait en trois minutes.
En arrivant au Monténégro, il faut passer un péage. Je donne des euros au guichetiers et lui demande de me rendre en monnaie locale. Il me rend des euros.
Je lui réitère ma requête. "Puis-je avoir le retour en monnaie locale ?". Il m’annonce qu’au Monténégro, la monnaie locale n’est autre que l’euro... A ma décharge, nous ne comptions pas aller au Monténégro et je n’ai ni carte ni guide de ce petit pays…
Nous rejoignons les Bouches de Kotor (fjord classé au Patrimoine de l’Unesco), grandiose, et retrouvons voitures et camping-cars allemands, hollandais et italiens.
Je m’attaque au frigo. Mes talents de bricoleur sont légendaires et pourtant, je parviens je ne sais trop comment à faire redémarrer l’appareil.
Jour: 0 km Total: 3249 km
Plage et détente. Ravitaillement en fruits et légumes dans des petites échoppes de bord de route. Les cigarettes s’achètent à la poste au Monténégro…
Pendant la sieste, je m’échappe pour faire quelques photos.
Super compte-rendu, merci !
Et très belles photos, originales pour beaucoup
J'attends maintenant votre impression sur l'Albanie avec impatience, on y sera dans 10 jours pour la première fois
😊
1 : Il faut vivre ses rêves et non pas rêver sa vie - 2 : mieux vaut vivre avec des remords qu'avec des regrets
Jour: 49 km Total: 3298 km
La ville de Kotor est magnifique même si elles ressemble à d’autres villes de la côte adriatique. Nichée au fond des bouches du même nom, elle est surplombée d’une citadelle aérienne.
Les touristes ne s’y sont pas trompés, il y arrivent par la route (se garer est un enfer) et par la mer, dans des immenses paquebots de croisière (ce qui n’est pas sans rappeler les fjords norvégiens) ou dans des yachts luxueux.
La ville est donc prise d’assaut.
Je prends l’itinéraire des 1000 marches menant à la citadelle jusqu’à mi-parcours histoire de ne pas faire patienter ma petite famille sous cette fournaise. Les vues sur la ville et le fjord sont panoramiques.
Nous rencontrons dans la soirée, sur la plage, Thomas, un français d’origine serbe qui connaît bien le Monténégro et qui nous briefe sur les endroits à ne pas rater.
Au camping, nous avons accès à internet, ce qui me permet de peaufiner notre itinéraire. Après le Monténégro, nous passerons en Albanie puis traversons la Macédoine pour rejoindre la Serbie.
Jour: 159 km Total: 3457 km
Route vers le nord du Monténégro.
De Kotor à Cetinje, la route est extraordinairement panoramique. A mesure qu’elle s’élève, l’horizon s’éloigne. Les vues qu’elle offre sont démentielles. Lors de cette montée composée d’interminables lacets, Gaspard me demande si je peux cesser de me tromper de route. Devant mon incrédulité, il m’explique qu’il en a assez que l’on fasse toujours demi-tour…
Pause déjeuner à Cetinje, ville paisible et endormie qui fut la capitale du Monténégro, comme en témoigne la présence des anciennes ambassades.
Le monastère qui jouxte le centre ville est imposant. Il contient une minuscule chapelle.
Nous passons ensuite Podgorica, essuyons un orage dantesque puis, alors que tout le monde dort, je prends la direction du Monastère d’Ostrog .
Un monastère troglodyte, accroché à la falaise comme s’il était en équilibre. Impressionnant pour le touriste que je suis, sacré pour les fidèles qui se signent avec foi avant d’entrer. Lieu de pèlerinage, les reliques conservées (17ème siècle) provoqueraient des guérisons miraculeuses. Lorsqu’un religieux orthodoxe traverse le parvis, des femmes se pressent pour lui baiser la main.
Nuit sur le parking d’un hôtel pour une poignée d’euros.
Ravie de te retrouver sur les routes des Balkans, que je connais somme toute assez peu.
Et de suivre les aventures des maintenant célèbres Gaspard et Emile 😏
Et toujours ces belles photos...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
En voyant ta photo du bateau de croisière dans les bouches de Kotor (1ere photo) je le souviens m'être réveillée un matin dans une chambre d'hôte au bord de l'eau , là j'hallucine, un immeuble a poussé dans la nuit sur l'eau ..😕 ouf , non, c'est juste un de ces immenses bateau de croisière qui passe vite son chemin . Pour avoir connu ces lieux au début des années 80 je regrette un peu cette surabondance de tourisme de masse qui passe par là sans finalement trop rien voir .
ce que je vois ..au réveil 😕brr!!!
Ouf , je repart à pied le long des bouches et c'est un régal
Merci Yo pour ton commentaire. Quant à la célébrité des deux petits, elle n'est que naissante 😄.
Merci Hannah pour ton retour et tes photos 🙂
Je poursuis...
24/07/2014
Jour: 214 km Total: 3671 km
Zabljak est une station de montagne située à l’entrée du Parc National de Durmitor, parc célèbre au Monténégro pour ses paysages et les possibilités de randonnée qu’il offre.
Autant dire qu’avec deux marmots de 2 et 4 ans, nous serons limités question randonnée mais le petit kilomètre de route piétonne et bitumée qui mène au lac Noir (Crno Jezero) est tout à fait adapté pour leur vélo et moto.
Le lac Noir est un lieu splendide, un lac limpide au cœur des montagnes.
Nous gagnons le Canyon de Tara et son eau turquoise. Le pont permettant de le traverser domine la rivière à une hauteur de 172 m.
La route longe ensuite les méandres du cours d’eau sur une cinquantaine de kilomètres entre roc et précipice. A certains endroits, la route s’écroule en partie dans le ravin.
Ici, un monastère perdu. La religieuse entend le moteur du fourgon et vient à ma rencontre. Équipée de sa lourde clé, elle ouvre la porte grinçante. Là, ce sont quelques vieilles bicoques d’un autre temps. La route est magnifique.
Le monastère de Moraca (encore un me direz-vous) date du 13ème siècle. Lorsque nous arrivons face à la haute muraille, les petits dorment. J’ouvre la porte, Emile se réveille. Rouler quelques centaines de mètres suffisent à le rendormir. Tout cela peut paraître anecdotique mais en face du monastère se trouve une café. C’est la seule fois où nous sommes parvenus à boire un café tous les deux, sans enfant…
Le monastère est superbe. Ce qui me marque c’est la vie qui se dégage autour de ces édifices. Outre les visiteurs, les fidèles investissent ces lieux. De plus, les religieux sont toujours présents et conversent avec ceux qui le désirent. A Moraca, ils s’occupent également de quelques dizaines de ruches.
Nous reprenons la route. Un paysan nous loue son champ pour que nous y passions la nuit. Il nous laisse nous installer et revient avec une demi-douzaine de pommes. Il est de retour un peu plus tard pour procéder avec sa famille, à la visite du fourgon.
Jour: 90 km Total: 3761 km
Réveil champêtre…
Une bonne dizaine de camions nous précède à la frontière albanaise.
J’avais repéré un camping au bord du lac Shköder en Albanie. Le site internet était flatteur. Qu’en est-il réellement ?
Une mauvaise piste nous conduit au terrain en question.
Un green anglais (mieux qu’un gazon albanais), de l’espace (toujours mieux qu’un parking de station-service), des chaises longues (dont ��videmment nous ne profiterons pas, enviant ceux qui s’y affalent avec un bouquin), des jeux pour enfants (dont ils profiteront abondamment), des enfants (qu’il nous faut remercier car ils nous ont offert quelques minutes de tranquillité – pas assez pour s’affaler sur une chaise longue cependant -), un restaurant, des locations de canoë, le tout face à l’imposant lac.
Un enfant vient nous ramener notre ballon égaré. « Tu as dit merci Gaspard ? ». « Non, j’ai dit « Thank you ! » C’est bien mon garçon !
Une bergère vient faire paître ses moutons sur les rives du lac juste avant qu’un orage n’éclate.
Conscients que ce camping est une bulle qui nous extrait de la réalité du pays, il est néanmoins pour nous un moyen de laisser davantage de liberté à nos enfants. Ils courent, ils jouent, ils s’éloignent… Ils vivent aussi leurs vacances d’enfants de 2 et 4 ans.
Jour : 31 km Total : 3792 km
L’objectif de la journée est de visiter le ville de Shköder (Shködra) et sa forteresse.
Plus encore qu’en Bosnie, on vend de tout sur le bord des routes. Les charrettes tirées par des ânes ou des chevaux partagent la route avec les autres véhicules. Les stations-service s’alignent tous les 500 m.
La Mosquée de plomb fut achevée au 18ème siècle. Simple coïncidence mais son minaret, frappé par la foudre, s’écroula en 1967, année où les religions furent interdites en Albanie.
Celle-ci est dominée par l’immense forteresse de Shköder (Rozafa). Il subsiste notamment, outre les remparts et les passages, les ruines de la Cathédrale Saint Stéphane (13ème siècle).
La ville en elle-même compte des jolies mosquées, un monastère, une agréable zone piétonne et un monument à la gloire de Mère Teresa qui était albanaise.
La poussette, tel un roseau, plie et ne rompt pas (encore)...
Retour au camping et baignade afin de finir la journée.
Bonjour
Ah, ça y est, l'Albanie !
Je suis encore plus attentivement 😎
Mais tout ce qu'on a vu jusqu'à présent donne envie
Hélas il faut bien choisir quand on est limité en temps
Merci encore
1 : Il faut vivre ses rêves et non pas rêver sa vie - 2 : mieux vaut vivre avec des remords qu'avec des regrets
Jour: 231 km Total: 4023 km
L’odeur sur la route ne m’est pas inconnue. Un mélange de combustion de diesel de mauvaise qualité, de feu de bois, de détritus pourrissant au soleil et quelques autres ingrédients que je ne sais identifier. Ces effluves stimulent ma mémoire olfactive. Paradoxalement, j’aime cette odeur qui me rappelle Bamako ou Le Caire.
Nous atterrissons à Kruja, petite cité médiévale loin d’être extraordinaire mais fort agréable pour une promenade de quelques heures. 7 euros pour un déjeuner abondant pour quatre personnes.
Jour de mariage, la musique aux accents orientaux résonne dans la cité.
Les stations-service se suivent et se ressemblent. Il y en a tous les 500 mètres.
J’avais entendu parler de la conduite plutôt aléatoire des albanais. Il est vrai qu’aux intersections (également dans les lignes droites), la priorité est donnée dans tous les cas et de facto à celui qui tourne. Si un conducteur souhaite bifurquer, il bifurque et le trafic s’adapte. Cependant, avant de pénétrer sur l’autoroute, je trouvais ces recommandations exagérées. Mais ça, c’était avant…
Voici la définition du mot Autoroute que l’on pourrait trouver dans le dictionnaire albanais :
Chaussée à deux voies, le plus souvent limitée à 90 km/h, dans laquelle se trouvent des nids de poules dans le meilleur des cas, d’autruche dans le pire des cas. Cette même chaussée est partagée par tous les types de véhicules présents en Albanie. La circulation peut-être entravée par : les piétons qui traversent sans cesse, les véhicules à contre-sens sur la bande d’arrêt d’urgence (rebaptisée bande de contre-sens), les véhicules dont les conducteurs trouvent qu’il est dangereux de rouler à contre-sens sur la BAU et décident de faire demi-tour par le biais du terre-plein central (qui parfois nécessite plusieurs manœuvres), les conducteurs qui prennent la précaution de s’arrêter pour téléphoner mais qui le font sur la BAU et obligent par la même occasion ceux qui arrivent en contre-sens de se décaler sur la voie de l’autoroute pour doubler celui qui obstrue la BAU… Vous suivez ? A vrai dire, il serait en somme, plus prudent de téléphoner en roulant ou de rouler tous dans le même sens.
Une petite remarque en passant à propos de ton avant dernière photo : c'est bien moche ces tuiles mécaniques, et quel dommage de les avoir posées sur ce si joli toit ! 😕
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Bonsoir.
En Juin 2010, la chaussée à 2 x 2 voies dont tu parles (entre Kruja et Skoder) était vraiment folklo, c'est-à-dire comme tu le racontes plus comme elle n'était pas finie :
- sans prévenir par le moindre panneau ou signal, ça passait à 2 voies + une et certains se retrouvaient alors à rouler sur la terre de la future 4ème voie et/ou se rabattait sans regarder derrière
- de temps en temps, toujours sans panneau d'avertissement, il fallait descendre dans un ravin ou une rivière asséchée par une piste vu que le pont était en construction
- il n'y avait aucun échangeur, ce qui fait qu'un gars qui voulait aller à sa maison situé sur le côté gauche, et bien soit il traversait le petit terre plein en face de chez lui soit il prenait la voie à contresens !
Bon on s'habitue assez vite à se méfier de tout, mais par contre ce que je n'ai jamais fait là-bas, c'est rouler de nuit : nids de poule ou d'autruche, plaques d'égouts disparues, véhicules ou charrettes circulant sans lumières ou arrêtées dans un virage, ...etc...
Néanmoins, pendant nos 3 semaines dans ce pays, cette route à 2x2 voies théoriques c'est le seul endroit d'Albanie (avec la portion vers Dürres) où j'ai vu des gendarmes avec un radar; il devait en attraper pas mal vu la vitesse à laquelle les albanais roulent (quand ils ont une belle voiture, ce qui, paradoxalement, vu la pauvreté du pays, est assez fréquent).
Il vaut mieux circuler dans les montagnes de l'intérieur, il y a moins de monde, et on va forcément moins vite vu que les routes goudronnées sont très dégradées ou tout simplement des pistes. Et dans ces coins qui étaient plus préservés du tourisme, l'accueil des gens était super, ils n'avaient pas l'habitude de voir un fourgon aménagé.
J'attends la suite pour revivre quelques souvenirs.
Merci Pierre pour ces précisions.
Tu avais passé 3 semaines en Albanie. Le seul regret que j'ai à propos de ce voyage, c'est justement de ne pas avoir passé plus de temps en Albanie. J'ai beaucoup aimé l'ambiance...
Nous arrivons à Dürres, grande station balnéaire albanaise.
Plage bondée mais cette eau grisâtre sur fond de grues et de cargos ne me donnent pas envie d’y mettre un doigt de pied.
Il y a toujours quelque chose à voir sur le bord des routes en Albanie. Ici, c’est un homme qui marche avec une chèvre qu’il porte la tête en bas. Quelques kilomètres auparavant, dans les rues de Dürres, un homme tenait un ours en laisse.
L’autoroute se poursuit et j’aspire plutôt à une petite route tranquille. Mon souhait est exaucé, en partie seulement. Petite route, c’est bon. Il s’agit de celle qui doit nous mener à Berat. Tranquille, non. La route est en travaux. Cependant, la réfection de la chaussée s’étend sur 30 km. Visiblement, une équipe est à pied d’œuvre sur une distance de 50 mètres. Ma question : pourquoi avoir détruit 30 km de bitume si un seul tronçon de 50 mètres est recouvert par une seule équipe ? N’aurait-il valu pas mieux détruire 50 m de route et effectuer son revêtement puis les 50 suivants… Il y a peut-être des données que je n’ai pas mais en conséquence, c’est 30 km de piste défoncée parcourus à 20 km/h qui nous attendent. Le lendemain, nous devrons également emprunter le même itinéraire…
Nous arrivons à Berat en fin d’après-midi où nous prenons possession d’un petite étendue d’herbe cachée sous les oliviers pour passer la nuit. Le terrain appartient à un restaurant et le propriétaire, pour quelques euros, permet de s'y installer.
Si j'en juge la densité de transats, cette plage qui ne vous tentait pas, attire quand même beaucoup de monde...
Quelle est la température de l'eau à cette saison ?
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Jour: 228 km Total: 4251 km
Promenade dans Berat, « la ville aux 1000 fenêtres ». La cité est composées de maisons accrochées à deux flancs de montagne. Les ruelles escarpées et pavées créent un véritable labyrinthe, un réseau permettant d’accéder aux habitations. La ville est vivante, elle est habitée…
Nous passons la frontière macédonienne, le douanier nous souhaite la bienvenue et nous offre des marque-pages…
La ville d’Ohrid (et son lac du même nom) est le centre touristique du pays. Le lac, très agréable est un lieu de baignade apprécié par les macédoniens. Il est en outre, le lac le plus ancien d'Europe et abrite de nombreuses espèces endémiques. Il y existe même des campings !
Nous partons donc à la recherche d’un lieu paisible, en bord de lac, afin que les petits puissent se défouler (paisible mais plus pour longtemps...).
Premier camping: nous ne nous arrêtons pas, les caravanes sont entassées, empilées presque et il manque d’espace.
Deuxième camping: je remets les passeports au réceptionniste. Cette fois encore, les campeurs et leur caravane d’un autre temps sont les uns sur les autres. Chacun semble jeter ses déchets à bout de bras. Ils volettent dans les allées au gré du vent. Je récupère sans tarder nos papiers d'identité.
Troisième camping: nous sommes à 30 km d’Ohrid, si celui-ci ne convient pas, nous chercherons un parking qui se révélera plus calme et plus propre. Nous sommes accueillis par un campement de caravanes cassées, sans roues, scotchées à maintes reprises. Visiblement, elles sont habitées. L’envie de faire demi-tour est immédiate. Nous persistons cependant et trouvons une zone herbeuse étendue, en face du lac.
Les toilettes et les douches se passent de commentaire, je me laverai donc dans le lac…
Peu enthousiaste, je m’applique tout de même à sortir nos chaises, à brancher l’électricité, à installer notre petit campement.
C’est alors qu’une voiture passe devant nous, j’ai juste le temps d’interpeller son conducteur. Il s’agit d’Arnaud et Cécile, deux français rencontrés en Albanie. Gaspard et Émile avaient sympathisé avec leurs enfants, un peu plus âgés. Une aubaine qui égaiera certainement le séjour des petits.
Les enfants jouent, nous prenons un verre. Coucher vers 1h00 du matin après une soirée très agréable.
Cette rencontre nous incite à rester une nuit de plus dans ce camping (campement ?).
Jour: 67 km Total: 4318 km
Avant de visiter le monastère de Saint Naum, nous nous laissons tenter par un petit tour de bateau, piloté par le "capitaine"...
Le monastère de Saint Naum (construction débutée au 10ème siècle), d'architecture byzantine, est d'une grande beauté. Sa situation, elle aussi, est exceptionnelle. Perché sur un petit promontoire, il domine tout le lac. Cette fois-ci encore, ces lieux sont avant tout des lieux de culte avant d'être des attractions pour touristes. Pourtant la plage qui jouxte l'édifice laisse une impression curieuse. Baignade et recueillement font ici bon ménage.
Ohrid est la ville qui a donné le nom au Lac. L'été, les macédoniens s'y ruent pour profiter des plages et de ses monuments historiques. En effet, surnommée la Jérusalem macédonienne, la cité datant de l'antiquité, est classée au Patrimoine Mondial de l'Unesco (bien que menacée de déclassement pour cause de constructions anarchiques) et est un haut lieu du christianisme orthodoxe. Ses ruelles tortueuses mènent au lac ou à la Forteresse du Tsar Samuel qui domine les environs.
Évidemment, nous partons pour une grande promenade à la pire heure qui soit (13h00), en plein soleil, sans poussette ni vélo (reliefs, pavés, escaliers). Bien que notre escapade prenne des airs de chemin de croix, elle se révèle fort appréciable (pour moi) tant l'histoire est visible à chaque coin de ruelle.
Jour: 326 km Total: 4644 km
Adieux chaleureux avec Arnaud, Cécile et leurs enfants. Je leur échange un guide de la Bosnie contre un de la Macédoine.
La route qui mène au Parc National de Mavrovo gagne les montagnes. les paysages sont montagneux et couverts d'une épaisse forêt.
Mavrovo est le village principal du lac et de sa région. La curiosité qui m'a menée jusqu'ici, c'est cette église en partie engloutie par la construction d'un barrage. Le reste manque d'intérêt, excepté les monastères ici ou là.
Le village, qui est également une station de ski, est quasiment désert. La route principale est balayée par les vents. J'avais imaginé que si l'endroit nous plaisait, nous y resterions quelques jours. Cette perspective n'est plus d'actualité...
En bordure de lac, des caravanes délabrées s'enlisent le temps des vacances.
Nous poursuivons donc notre route, il me reste plus d'un tour dans mon sac. L'autoroute est interrompue sans cesse par les péages. Nous gagnons rapidement Skopje, la capitale du pays.
Matka est donc notre prochaine étape. Des gorges profondes bordées par des petits restaurants et un plan d'eau pour de douces balades en bateau et un camping.
Le temps s'est couvert, un restaurant miteux, des montagnes de déchets qui débordent de dizaines de poubelles et un camping désaffecté. Le site naturel est beau mais l'aménagement, la saleté, le mauvais temps et notre humeur nous en donnent une image calamiteuse.
Finalement, en Macédoine, la vie semble s'être arrêtée dans les années 70. Le temps achevant de dégrader les installations vieillottes...
Dans le guide, un camping est indiqué à la sortie de Skopje, à 6 km du centre-ville. Arrivant par la rocade, je ne sais pas si c'est à gauche ou à droite que je dois bifurquer. Évidemment, je prends à droite et c'est deux heures plus tard que je me rendrai compte de mon erreur.
Que s'est-il passé durant ces deux heures ? J'ai demandé à deux pompistes, un taxi, une multitude passants, nous nous sommes pris un orage de pluie, de bourrasques, de grêle. Les voitures s'arrêtaient sous les ponts afin de ne pas être endommagées, j'ai pris l'autoroute dans l'autre sens, j'ai attendu 15 km avant de pouvoir faire demi-tour, j'ai du passer un péage, un second et enfin, nous y sommes parvenus. Camping dépendant de l'hôtel Best Western, hors de prix et sur l'autoroute. Les petits sont dans le camion depuis ce matin, la pluie cesse, ils peuvent profiter des toboggans trempés. Ils reviennent revigorés et boueux.
Demain, nous entrons en Serbie, pays pour lequel je possède une carte détaillée et un guide !
Jour: 348 kmTotal: 4992 km
La frontière serbe est passée sans encombre. La pause déjeuner doit avoir lieu dans un parc ombragé merveilleux situé dans une station thermale elle aussi merveilleuse, bordée par des hôtels et demeures... merveilleuses. La description de Vranjska Banja qui nous est faite dans le guide nous promet donc des instants merveilleux. Nous avons cependant appris à nous méfier et notre enthousiasme est mesuré.
Voici donc ce que j'écrirais à la place de ce rédacteur qui, vraisemblablement, n'a jamais mis les pieds dans ce patelin:
" Cité thermale décadente. Ne manquez pas l'immense hôtel en ruines, tagué et envahi par la végétation ainsi que les demeures délabrées qui bordent le petit parc. Les jours de chaleur sont à éviter car les arbustes, du fait de leur taille modeste, n'apportent pas d'ombre. La majorité des établissements présents dans la minuscule rue principale sont des casinos aux vitres calfeutrées. La rivière qui traverse Vranjska Banja a été aménagée et bétonnée si bien qu'elle ressemble à un caniveau de grande taille."
Hormis ces aspects peu flatteurs, et la crainte de s'être trompés de lieu, la pause est appréciée, les vélos sont sortis et les bureks engloutis sont savoureux.
Nous repartons sous la pluie.
Une de mes brillantes idées nous conduit à sortir de l'autoroute et couper à travers champs pour rejoindre Kraljevo. J'ai une carte détaillée, j'en profite. L'itinéraire bis emprunte des routes routes rouges (axes principaux) puis des routes jaunes (ce qui correspond à nos départementales) puis se termine par quelques dizaines de kilomètres de routes indiquées en blanc qui correspondent, j'imagine, à des voies plus petites.
La pluie redouble alors que nous nous enfonçons dans les profondeurs serbes. La route se rétrécit et les panneaux, jusqu'alors traduit en écriture latine, ne sont plus qu'en cyrillique. Faisant confiance à mon sens de l'orientation, nous poursuivons notre plongée.
La pluie forcit, le revêtement de la route se dégrade. La forêt a remplacé les champs et depuis quelques temps déjà, nous n'avons croisé personne. Les panneaux indiquant les directions ont totalement disparu. Le brouillard vient me compliquer la tâche. D'autant que sur cette petite route, des portions de bitume ont laissé place à des torrents de boue.
Cela fait déjà plusieurs heures que nous avons quitté la route rouge et notre errance forestière se poursuit.
Enfin, un panneau indique Krusevac. Pour être plus précis, deux panneaux indiquent Krusevac, et ce, dans deux directions opposées. Je prends à gauche et déjà, quelques habitations apparaissent. Les habitants, armés de pelles, creusent les fossés. La route s'est transformée en rivière et les rivières en torrents.
Il est temps de trouver un lieu pour dormir. Un parking de restaurant nous convient, le patron n'est pas de cet avis.
C'est finalement à l'entrée de Kraljevo que nous trouvons une station-service avec toboggan (trempé) et wifi.
Une pluie fine nous accueille au réveil.
Notre route se poursuit plein sud. Le château de Maglic, installé sur un promontoire, domine toute la région. Je suis envoyé comme éclaireur, Anne Gaëlle et les enfants m'attendent au fourgon. Le pont suspendu qui enjambe la rivière gonflée par les pluies permet d'accéder à l'édifice. Les planches disjointes craquent sous mes pas, le pont se balance dangereusement au dessus des remous. Finalement, je fais demi-tour. De toutes façons, la maman refusera que ses petits mettent un orteil sur cette passerelle.
Inscrit au Patrimoine Mondial de l'Unesco, le monastère de Studenica (12ème ) est un édifice majeur en Serbie. L'Église de la Sainte Mère de Dieu, le bâtiment principal, est construit intégralement en marbre.
La pluie cesse enfin.
La route se poursuit vers le sud.
Nous parvenons à Novi Pazar, ville méridionale, à la frontière du Kosovo. La cité a la particularité d'être à majorité musulmane. les minarets y remplacent donc les clochers et, nous concernant, le soleil remplace la pluie.
La ville et sa zone piétonne et l'ambiance générale sont agréables mais quelques détails nous interpellent. Le nombre de voitures de luxe immatriculées en Allemagne et en Suisse est étonnant. Certaines coûtent plus de 200 000 euros. Il s'agit certainement de Serbes vivant dans ces pays revenant l'été mais ces signes de grande richesse sèment quelques interrogations. Les bureaux de change sont également très nombreux alors que les touristes sont inexistants. Ajoutons les quelques gamins de moins de 12 ans déambulant pieds nus, la cigarette aux lèvres, tout cela concourt à une atmosphère spéciale. (Si vous êtes des lecteurs assidus, je trouverai une partie d'explication un peu plus loin dans le carnet...)
Les petits sont difficilement contrôlables et la promenade est difficile.
La route de Nova Vajos est magnifique. Elle borde la frontière du Monténégro, louvoie entre les collines et offre des vues superbes sur la campagne. Cependant, ces beaux paysages ne nous donnent pas un lieu où nous pourrons dormir. L'heure avance, le soleil décile, il va falloir partir à la recherche d'un bivouac.
C'est 7 km avant Nova Vajos que nous voyons un petit panonceau jaune indiquant camping. En fait, il s'agit de Branko et sa famille qui proposent pour quelques euros de garer le fourgon dans leur jardin. L'accueil est chaleureux, la communication difficile...
Nous sommes à la campagne. Les petits sont très intéressés par les scènes auxquelles ils assistent. Les vaches rentrent des alpages, les gamins du voisinage apportent une chèvre pour la traire devant nous, on nous apporte du café et du fromage frais... Cette journée se termine par une bonne partie de football avec Nenard et ses copains.
Jour: 210 km Total: 5432 km
Après quelques jeux avec les chats de la maison, nous optons pour une piste qui longe l'impressionnant canyon de l'Uvac, une rivière faite de multiples méandres. Les aigles y tournoient sans cesse à la recherche d'une proie. Le panorama est magnifique.
Zlatibor est une station très populaire en Serbie. Des restaurants, des fêtes foraines, des pédalos sur le lac artificiel, des chevaux à roulettes, des vrais, des quads, des motos, des buggys, des hommes-sandwichs, des ventes de souvenirs, des glaces, des crêpes... Rien ne manque. Un enfer pour nous et notre porte-monnaie, le paradis pour les enfants.
Nous quittons ce parc d'attraction qui nous fait croire qu'il est village avant que tous nos dinars ne s'envolent définitivement...
Nous prenons la direction du Parc National de Tara. La forêt est dense, la route, au fil des kilomètres, laisse apparaître des nids de poules vastes et profond. L'instant est critique quand al surface des trous dépasse celle du bitume. Je roule à 10 km/h.
Nous arrivons non sans peine au Lac de Zaovine. La encore, comme en Macédoine, une dizaine de caravanes usées y sont installées pour quelques temps visiblement. L'endroit est beau, sans plus.
En poursuivant notre route, nous apercevons un restaurant avec toboggans, balançoires et aire de jeu pour les enfants. Mieux, il propose un emplacement sur une étendue d'herbe en contrebas.
Je vais voir le patron qui m'annonce que c'est 11 euros avec tente, douche et toilettes. Je lui réponds gentiment que je n'ai pas besoin de douche, de toilettes et encore moins de tente. J'aimerais simplement me garer ici car les jeux pour enfants me seront d'un grand secours. Qu'importe, il nous faut payer 11 euros. Je ne suis pas d'accord mais les petits ont besoin de se défouler.
Les voilà partis sur les jeux et j'attends avec impatience le moment où je m'asseirai avec une bière fraîche, ruminant l'absence de compréhension du restaurateur. Quelques manoeuvres pour dormir à plat et je m'embourbe. La boue grasse s'est incrustée dans chacune des rainures des pneus les rendant lisses comme des oeufs. Impossible de reculer ou d'avancer et me voilà coincé 10 mètres en contrebas de la route.
Je retourne voir le restaurateur qui envoie son fils. Des pierres, des morceaux de moquette et les bras généreux d'un client me permettront, après 45 minutes d'effort, de sortir de ce bourbier. Le temps de rentrer tout le monde, de récupérer mes 11 euros (non mais !) et de filer vers un bivouac moins gras.
C'est finalement au centre-ville de Bajina Basta, petite bourgade animée que nous nous garons pour la nuit. Une zone piétonne et des structures gonflables pour enfants, des marchands de glaces et une place dans une ruelle annexe, tout va pour le mieux...
Juste une petite rectification Pierre , la photo ce n'est pas un aigle mais un vautour fauve 😎 . En général lorsqu'on aperçoit plusieurs aigles qui volent ensemble , bingo ce sont des vautours grands charognards qui nettoient bien la montagne mais ne se nourrissent pas de proies vivantes . Les aigles sont en général solitaires et il y en a pas mal dans ce coin .
Jour: 213 kmTotal: 5645 km
Les mouches ont envahi le camion.
Il va nous falloir trouver un camping digne de ce nom. Le réservoir d'eau claire est vide, celui des eaux usées est plein ainsi que les toilettes, une lessive est à faire de toute urgence. Les enfants ont passé beaucoup de temps dans leur siège ces derniers jours, il leur faut un lieu adapté pour qu'ils puissent jouer et s'aérer en toute sécurité. Ce fameux guide en qui nous n'avons plus confiance indique un camping à une petite centaine de kilomètres de notre point de départ. Celui-ci, s'il existe, constituera une halte appréciable de quelques jours .
Nous reprenons donc la route pleins d'espérance...
Monument commémorant les combats entre les partisans communistes yougoslaves et les nazis en 1941
Le camping de Divicibare est à l'abandon, envahi par la végétation. Espoirs envolés.
Une source à la sortie du patelin nous permet de refaire le plein de 90 litres d'eau claire. 1/3 de nos problèmes sont résolus. Valjevo est déserte en ce dimanche devenu gris et pluvieux. Une pizzeria nous permet, en plus de déjeuner, de capter une connexion internet. Je déniche un camping à une trentaine de kilomètres de Belgrade. L'espoir renaît.
C'est donc chose faite à Bacevac. Le lieu n'est pas à proprement parlé un camping. C'est plutôt un hôtel vide, un restaurant bondé en ce dimanche, un petit zoo, une aire de jeu pour les enfants et 3 ou 4 emplacements dotés d'eau et d'électricité. On ne demande pas mieux. Je me gare donc sur le gazon détrempé et m'embourbe creusant ainsi des ornières gigantesques sur le green si bien entretenu. Cette fois-ci, c'est le tracteur qui nous sort de ce faux pas devant la cinquantaine de clients serbes attablés à l'extérieur. Une entrée remarquée pour nous qui sommes les premiers français à s'arrêter dans le coin... Je me gare donc sur les graviers...
Le reste n'est que du plaisir. Les enfants ont un espace immense pour jouer et s'occuper des animaux et nous avons un peu de tranquillité ! Les employés viennent nous saluer un par un, le patron me demande de parler à sa femme au téléphone, elle aime beaucoup notre langue mais n'en parle pas un mot. Me voilà donc parti pour un monologue en français.
Jour: 8 km Total: 5653 km
Au réveil, le patron nous apporte des poires fraîchement cueillies.
Le lundi, à Barajevo, c'est jour de marché. Nous y sommes par hasard, ce dernier fait bien les choses. Les paysans viennent de tous les villages alentour pour y vendre toutes sortes d'animaux, de fruits et légumes, de pièces auto d'occasion, de vêtements et du bois.
Sur le retour, nous prenons un homme en stop qui, se retournant, n'en croit pas ses yeux en voyant l'aménagement du fourgon et les quatre billes interrogatrices des enfants, bien assis dans leur siège auto.
Retour au camping et temps libre pour les enfants.
Pendant ce moment de répit, je fais des recherches sur les plaques suisses et les voitures de luxe croisées à Novi Pazar. D'après les différents rapports que j'ai pu consulter, il s'avère que cette région est une plaque tournante de trafics en tous genres.
"Novi Pazar joue le rôle d’une place neutre mafieuse. «La Genève des Balkans», ironisent certains. C’est ici, en effet, que se rencontrent les réseaux criminels serbes, monténégrins, bosniaques et kosovars. À Sarajevo, les Sandjakis ont la réputation de tenir tous les réseaux de trafic, et les véhicules immatriculés à Novi Pazar sont les seuls à pouvoir circuler sans problèmes aussi bien en Serbie, au Monténégro qu’au Kosovo.
La réputation de Novi Pazar dépasse même les frontières de la région : certains «hommes d’affaires» locaux se portent garants, sur leurs biens et sur leur vie, de cargaisons d’héroïne qui circulent d’Istanbul vers l’Europe occidentale." Source: rfi.fr
Voilà pour l'explication...
Y aller: en avion: la ligne Paris-Belgrade n’est plus assurée que par la JAT Airways: 3 vols par jour, bien répartis dans la journée. 2 heures et demi de vol.…
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Carnets de voyage › Bosnie-Herzégovine / Albanie / Macédoine · 13 replies
Un voyage rapide de vingt jours de Lyon à Lyon, 5200 kilomètres en voiture (Koleos) par différents pays des Balkans. Des impressions glanées au fil des arrêts…
Comme promis, pour compléter notre "récit" (Shqipëria: voyager en Albanie en 2010), voici quelques photos significatives de notre voyage en Albanie, par route…
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 😹
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...)
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.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉