Hanoï et le lac de l’épée restituée
L’histoire remonte à l’époque des Ming. La domination chinoise pesait lourdement sur le Vietnam. La population accablée d’impôts haïssait l’occupant. Dans le Than Hoa, district de Lam Son, des patriotes, avides de liberté, se soulevèrent. Mais les forces étaient par trop inégales et ils allaient de défaite en défaite.
C’est alors que Long Quan, roi de l’empire des eaux décida d’intervenir.
A cette époque vivait au Thanh Hoa un pécheur nomme Le Than. Une nuit, ou il relevait son filet il le sentit beaucoup plus lourd que de coutume. « Un gros poisson » pensa-t-il tout heureux. Mais ce n’était qu’une barre de fer qu’il rejeta a l’eau. Un peu plus tard, comme il levait à nouveau le filet, il y trouva la même barre de fer. Et ainsi 3 fois de suite. Surpris, il regarda de plus près cet objet insolite.
-Oh ! Oh ! C’est une épée, s’écria-t-il
A quelque temps de là, il rejoignit les volontaires de Lam Son.
Un jour le commandant en chef Le Loi et quelques hommes de troupe entrèrent chez Than. La cabane était obscure, même en plein jour mais dans un coin brillait l’épée. Etonne, Le Loi s’en saisit et l’examinant, vit grave sur le métal ces mots : »Par la volonté du ciel. Cependant personne n’y attacha grande importance.
Or, peu de temps après, Le Loi et ses lieutenants durent battre en retraite. Traversant une forêt, il aperçut soudain une étrange lumière au faite d’un banian. Grimpant aussitôt a l’arbre, il vit qu’elle provenait d’une poignée d’épée incrustée de Jade. C’est alors qu’il se souvint de l’épée vue chez Than.
Le jour suivant, retrouvant le jeune pécheur, il lui fit part de sa découverte. Miracle! La poignée s’adaptait parfaitement à l’épée.
-Mon prince, c’est le ciel qui vous l’envoie, s’écria Than. Nous jurons de vous suivre et de sacrifier notre vie pour l’indépendance de la Patrie.
Des lors, l’épée sacrée aux mains de Le Loi décupla l’ardeur des soldats et fit merveille. Bientôt, tout le pays fut libéré.
Un an après avoir chassé les Ming, Le Loi devenu roi, se promenait sur le lac de Ta Vong au cœur de la capitale, quand la barque royale vit soudain surgir des eaux une tortue d’or.
-Je vous prie, dit-elle, de bien vouloir rendre à mon maitre Long Quan. Empereur du Royaume des Eaux, l’épée sacrée qu’il vous a confiée.
Debout sur la barque, Le Loi sentit frémir l’épée qu’il portait toujours à la ceinture. Il la saisit et la jeta dans l’eau. La Tortue d’or l’avala et plongea. Pendant longtemps une clarté fulgurante sillonna la surface du lac.
C’est de ce jour que le lac de Ta Vong a pris le nom de « Lac de l’épée » ou plus exactement « Lac de l’épée restituée »
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Lorsqu’une Thai Noir se marie, elle porte un chignon très élevé appelé «tang câu», qu’elle gardera jusqu’à la fin de sa vie conjugale. Mais avant de pouvoir arborer ce fameux chignon qui fait d’elle une femme mariée aux yeux de la communauté, elle doit faire l’objet d’une cérémonie pour le moins originale.
Pas question que la femme se fasse elle-même son chignon!
Non, cet acte spirituel est confié à deux représentantes de sa belle-famille qui répondent à des critères précis.
Au jour choisi conjointement par les familles de la mariée et du marié, ces deux dames viennent peigner, faire le chignon et recommander à la fille la bonne conduite que l’autre famille attend d’elle.
La tradition Thai Noir veut que chaque fois que les femmes se peignent, elles ramassent les cheveux qui tombent pour constituer ces mèches qui seront utilisées lors de la cérémonie de création du «chignon de noces». Car selon la tradition, plus le chignon est gros et élevé, plus la mariée sera belle
Mais… il y a des exceptions. Certaines femmes Thai Noir ne portent pas de chignon au moment de leur mariage ni après, dans ce cas, une autre cérémonie aura lieu. La famille du mari devra offrir à la mariée deux mèches de cheveux, une broche, deux bracelets, une paire de boucles d’oreille en argent, un rouleau de brocatelle, une ceinture en brocatelle verte, un miroir, un peigne…etc
La femme Thai Noir gardera son chignon jusqu’à la fin de sa vie ou à la disparition de son mari, suite à laquelle elle sera obligée de renoncer au chignon élevé.
La veuve se fera alors une queue de cheval, comme les jeunes filles.
Le port du casque étant obligatoire, les femmes Thai portaient le casque (quand elles le portaient, , , ) par dessus le chignon, l’attache étant «bricolée» pour pouvoir tenir au mieux,
En 2015 un casque de moto pour les femmes de l’ethnie Thai a été conçu par une entreprise vietnamienne, il leur permet maintenant de loger leur gros chignon dans un compartiment spécial à son sommet, un peu comme si elle avaient un bol sur la tête,
Les femmes Doa se coiffent de diverses façons : cheveux longs enroulés autour de la tête comme chez les Dao rouges, cheveux partagés par une raie au milieu de la tête et relevés en chignon sur la nuque comme les Doa à pantalon blanc, cheveux coupés courts et enduits de cire d'abeilles comme chez les Dao aux sapèques.
Les Dao rouges se rasent les sourcils et le haut du crâne d’une oreille à l’autre
La légende veut qu'une femme ait un jour empoisonné sa belle-mère à l'aide de l'un de ses cheveux. Depuis, pour éviter qu'un tel drame ne se reproduise, toutes les femmes de cette ethnie se rasent.
Les femmes yao (Dao au Vietnam) ne se coupent les cheveux qu’une fois dans leur vie, à l'âge de 18 ans.
Elles coiffent leurs cheveux en les remontant sur leur tête et en ajoutant parfois à leur coiffure des cheveux déjà coupés ou tombés, qu'elles ont reçus en héritage de leur mère et de leur grand-mère.
Depuis l'Antiquité, les femmes Yao (Dao) , ainsi que les princesses impériales de Chine, ont utilisé l'eau dans laquelle elles cuisent le riz pour se laver les cheveux.
Pour elles, leurs cheveux longs et brillants sont leur bien le plus précieux, çà symbolise la longévité, la prospérité, la richesse et la chance.
La recette
Après avoir rincé le riz (1/2 tasse) pour éliminer les impuretés faites le bouillir (2 tasses d’eau) pendant 15 minutes, en remuant de temps en temps.
Égouttez l’eau de cuisson dans un récipient et gardez la à température ambiante pendant un jour au moins, pour que l’eau devienne légèrement acide et commence à fermenter.
Ensuite, versez l’eau de riz dans une casserole, faites bouillir pendant 10 minutes, puis laissez refroidir
C’est prêt à l’emploi, utilisez cette eau comme un shampoing (ou comme masque après un léger lavage au shampoing habituel),
Massez délicatement votre cuir chevelu, laissez poser au moins 20mm puis rincez bien soigneusement.
Vous pouvez jouter quelques gouttes d’huile essentielle de lavande ou de romarin pour parfumer.
Les Hmongs
Hmong blanc : rasée sur les côtés, touffe de cheveu au sommet et turban
Hmong vert : cheveux longs sur les épaules, chignon après le mariage
Hmong noir : cheveux longs avec turbans
Hmong rouge : cheveux longs et houppes rouges
Hmong fleur : cheveux longs avec postiches, foulards rouges ou verts
Les hmong noirs de Sapa ont une coiffe simple, cylindre de tissu uni, roulé sur une armature, laissant libre vers le haut la chevelure repliée en natte agrafée d'une épingle,
Les fillettes ont les cheveux libres sur les épaules, les hommes ont des allures de curés de campagne 😉 avec leurs cheveux coupés au bol qu’ils coiffent parfois d’un béret traditionnel, brodé ou celui hérité des français,
Les Ha Nhi
Les jeunes femmes lient leurs cheveux naturels à des perruques (en crin de cheval ou en coton) pour composer une longue chevelure, nattée en trois brins qui sont ramenés sur les côtés et derrière la tête.
La chevelure joue un rôle important dans la vie des femmes Hà Nhi. Elles ne quittent jamais leur chevelure malgré son poids. Pour l’embellir, elles le couvrent d’un turban carré brodé de motifs aux angles.
La femme vietnamienne
Ce qui donne son élégance à la femme vietnamienne, c’est, sans nul doute, sa chevelure !
L’Histoire nous dit que sous l’influence du confucianisme, les Vietnamiens n’avaient pas le droit de se couper les cheveux.
Si les hommes ont perdu l’habitude de les rouler en chignon sur la nuque pour adopter des coupes plus courtes, les femmes perpétuent encore un peu la tradition des cheveux longs.
Les jeunes filles et les femmes du Nord enroulaient leurs cheveux dans une bande de velours marron, puis disposaient le tout autour de la tête,
A Ha Noi, on voit encore de vielles personnes coiffées ainsi et dans les villes touristiques lors de représentations de Théâtres ou de chants traditionnels, les artistes ont aussi cette coiffe, mais la femme moderne l’a abandonnée, , ,
Les femmes du Centre et du Sud se faisaient un chignon sur la nuque
Pour la plupart, les femmes modernes, les jeunes filles, ont sacrifié au sacro-saint « modernisme »leur chevelure 😐
On coupe, on frise et on teint..
L’effet est rarement heureux... virant du brun au roux.. et, quand il est question comme chez certains, d’oser le blond (surtout vu chez les garçons qui arborent des crêtes décolorées)😐
Commerce du cheveux
Les cheveux faisaient au Vietnam, avant la Révolution de 1945, l’objet d’un petit commerce assez florissant.
Les femmes qui avaient des cheveux clairsemés achetaient au marché de Dông Xuân (Hanoï) des faux chignons et des cheveux pour rembourrer leur coiffure.
Les femmes du village de Triêu Khúc à Hà Dông, en banlieue de Hanoï, se spécialisaient dans le commerce de cheveux: elles allaient de village en village troquer du sucre de riz germé contre des cheveux, leurs clients étaient des enfants auxquels les mères donnaient des amas de cheveux qui tombaient quand elles se peignaient
« Les commerçants chinois sont venus dans notre village acheter des cheveux pour produire des perruques à destination des marchés occidentaux »
Depuis quelques années, les débouchés se sont encore élargis avec des clients venus de Corée du Sud et de Thaïlande.
Des centaines de milliers de tonnes de cheveux sont vendus chaque année à l'étranger
A 40 km de Hanoï le village de An Binh - Bac Ninh s’est aussi spécialisé dans ce commerce lucratif,
Aujourd’hui il est assez fréquent de voir sur les marchés ethniques des ventes de cheveux...ce ne sont plus les cheveux tombés qui sont commercialisés mais bien ceux que coupent les femmes, à leur grande désespoir, pour pouvoir faire face à leur pauvreté,
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
(1/2) La citadelle de l’escargot et l’arbalète magique
Song Hoang du côté de Co Loa à 18 km au nord-est de Hanoi, première capitale du Vietnam,
Le Roi An Duong, ayant conquis le Van Lang, donna au pays le nom de « Au Lac ». Il établit sa capitale a Phong Khe et décida d’y élever une citadelle imprenable.
La terre de la colline était, dit-on, « dure comme la pierre ». Les travailleurs s’acharnaient. Le roi et ses notables qui inspectaient les travaux se montraient satisfaits : cette forteresse résisterait aux pires typhons et aux plus terribles envahisseurs. Elle résista si bien que, peu de jours après, les murs s’effondrèrent mystérieusement comme un château de cartes.
Le roi se rendit sur les lieux. La population interrogée disait qu’elle avait entendu des voix, des bruits souterrains, mais que, morte de peur, elle n’avait rien vu car elle n’osait même pas regarder !
Le roi ordonna de reprendre les travaux et d’achever coute que coute la construction. Les travailleurs reprirent leur tâche avec un effort redouble.
Mais une seconde fois, les murailles tombèrent. Puis une troisième. Et les gens entendaient toujours mais n’osaient aller voir.
Cette fois le roi s’adressa au ciel en faisant le tour de la citadelle détruite. Il vit venir à lui un vieillard qui lui dit :
« Demain matin, rendez-vous sur la berge du fleuve. Un ambassadeur vous apportera un message qui vous permettra de construire votre citadelle. »
Sur ces mots, le vieillard disparut. Le lendemain à l’aube, le roi se rendit sur les bords du fleuve. Quand le brouillard se dissipa, il vit de l’est nager vers lui une grande tortue d’or qui se présenta comme le génie Kim Quy (Tortue d’Or). Porte au palais sur un plateau d’or, le génie révéla au roi le secret de l’effondrement de la citadelle :
« Au mont That Dieu vit un coq blanc vieux de centaines d’années dont l’esprit malfaisant peut prendre diverses formes. Les âmes errantes qui n’ont pu se fondre dans le grand Tout de l’Harmonie universelle et qui hante les cavernes et les grottes viennent le trouver par les nuits claires. C’est l’Eprit démoniaque du coq blanc qui les a jusqu’ici incites à détruire la citadelle.
« Mais comment retrouver ce coq blanc ?
-Il a été lie par le sort à la fille du propriétaire d’une auberge construite au pied du Mont That Dieu. C’est pourquoi son esprit maléfique prend souvent la forme d’un voyageur. Nous avons des chances de le retrouver là-bas »
Le roi écouta le génie. Il dépêcha de nombreux soldats qui organisèrent une embuscade dans la forêt puis il se déguisa en voyageur ainsi que le génie. Le propriétaire de l’auberge refusa d’abord de les loger mais, devant leur insistance, il s’inclina.
Pendant la nuit, des pas sourds se firent entendre, suivis de coups dans le mur et d’appel à la fille. Mais le génie les menaça et les pas s’éloignèrent.
A l’approche du matin, sur les conseils du génie, le roi donna l’ordre à ses soldats d’attaquer. Les flèches sifflèrent. On entendit partout des cris de douleur. Puis les plaintes s’espacèrent. Au lever du soleil, les soldats du roi exhumèrent de nombreux ossements humains, les brûlèrent et dispersèrent les cendres dans les ruisseaux.
Le roi et le génie retournèrent alors à l’auberge et exigèrent du propriétaire que le coq blanc fut sacrifie au Ciel. Mais à peine eut-il la gorge tranchée que la fille du propriétaire tomba raide morte et qu’au même moment, un oiseau s’envola par la fenêtre. Le génie l’abattit, détruisant ainsi l’esprit du démon.
Plus rien, n’empêcha des lors la citadelle d’être construite. Large de mille Truong, avec desaussi épaisses que hautes, elle reçut le nom de
Citadelle de L’Escargot.
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Song Hoang du côté de Co Loa à 18 km au nord-est de Hanoi, première capitale du Vietnam,
En fait, le nom de la citadelle est: Thành Cổ Loa (citadelle Co Loa) , elle se trouvait au bord du fleuve Hoang (song Hoang signifiant fleuve jaune en vietnamien)
Aujourd'hui, le fleuve Jaune à Co Loa n'est qu'un tronçon du fleuve qui a été rempli et rénové en canal d'irrigation.
Si la citadelle se dit aujourd'hui de l'escargot et porte aussi le nom de : thành ốc, (citadelle de l'escargot)c'est du à sa construction en spirale
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Le voyageur (passionné d'histoire😉) qui visite cet endroit devra bien faire la distinction...
La première Citadelle de Co Loa érigée au IIIème siècle avant Jésus Christ sous le règne de Thuc An Duong, fondateur de la dynastie légendaire des Thuc, Co Loa est la plus ancienne citadelle du Vietnam.
Ce village ancestral constitue l’ancienne capitale du royaume d’Au Lac, ancien nom du Vietnam.
Actuellement, quelques parties ont été bétonnées pour servir de routes et de base à des logements résidentiels. La spirale intérieure a perdu sa forme d’origine, elle n’est plus visible que par quelques monticules. Les murs du milieu et ceux extérieurs conservent leur forme, bien qu’ils ne soient pas aussi hauts qu’autrefois: 1 à 3 m au lieu de 7-8 m auparavant.
Les fossés, un des témoins de grande valeur du site, ont été largement dénaturés. Certains, remblayés, servent à la construction de logements ou à la culture du riz, d’autres à l’élevage de poissons, altérant ainsi leur forme d’origine.
Récemment, le Comité populaire de Hanoï a aussi approuvé le plan de gestion, de préservation et de valorisation du site national spécial de Cô Loa pour la période 2018-2020, dans le but, notamment, de restaurer les murs de la citadelle.
Sous la dynastie Ngô, une autre citadelle fut érigée entre 939 et 944.
Pour la seconde fois, Co Loa fut ancienne capitale royale.
Au XVIIe siècle, la dynastie des Lê voulut rendre justice à la mémoire du roi Thuc An Duong et fit construire un temple à l’emplacement de son ancien palais.
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Le problème est que je n'ai pas du tout la même histoire, et la mienne est dans les livres d'histoire du Vietnam. la voilà (extrait de mon livre)!
Le prince chinois Thuc Phan rallie certains chefs Âu Viêt et s’empare du royaume viêt du Van Lang. Sous le nom d’An Duong, il fonde en 257 av. J.-C. le royaume d’Âu Lac. Il installe sa capitale à Phong Khé, à 18 kilomètres à l’est de Hanoï, et y construit une citadelle entourée de trois grandes murailles concentriques en terre et briques d’énormes proportions : 12 kilomètres de long, la plus longue faisant 8 kilomètres de circonférence, 5 mètres de haut, 20-30 mètres d’épaisseur à la base, 6-10 au sommet, avec des tours de 12 mètres percées de portes (on en trouve encore quelques traces), le tout couvrant 600 hectares entourés de haies de bambous et de douves. A cause de la forme en spirale des murailles, le roi donne au centre le nom de Loa Than (Capitale en spirale), que le peuple baptise plus tard Cô Loa (Vieille spirale). Les dimensions de Cô Loa ainsi que le grand nombre d’artefacts en bronze que les archéologues ont retrouvé (pointes de flèches, socs de charrue, outils araires et un des plus grands tambours du Nord) indiquent une population importante, une agriculture florissante et une véritable industrie, donc une solide administration.
La légende de Cô Loa raconte que le sort s’acharne contre An Duong, dont les murailles s’écroulent dès qu’elles sont édifiées. C’est alors que la divinité de la rivière locale lui envoie une tortue d’or qui le conseille sur la construction de ces murs. Elle lui donne également une griffe magique, qu’il attache à son arbalète. La légende précise que, grâce à la griffe, chaque flèche de l’arbalète peut tuer 10 000 ennemis, 10 000 étant chez les Asiatiques un chiffre symbolique signifiant une grande quantité, voire l’infini. En 218 av. J.-C., l’insatiable empereur chinois Qin Shi Huang Di envahit le royaume d’An Vuong La conquête se fait non sans peine, les Viêt utilisant déjà la tactique de la guérilla et de la terre brûlée. Une armée chinoise est détruite par une attaque de nuit et son général tué. L’empereur doit envoyer des renforts sous le commandement du général Zhao Tuo (Triêu Đàou Triêu Vu Đé en vietnamien). La légende raconte que, pour s’emparer de Cô Loa, l’empereur Qin commence par y envoyer le fils de Zhao Tuo demander la main de la fille d’An Duong, la princesse My Chau, qu’il obtient. Rappelons que, lors de la construction des murailles de la capitale, une tortue d’or a donné au roi une arbalète dont la gâchette est une de ses griffes, ce qui rend l’arme magique ; My Chau s’empare ou aide son mari à s’emparer de la griffe et la capitale tombe aux mains des Chinois ; le roi s’enfuie avec sa fille en croupe et appelle la tortue à son secours : « Génie de la tortue d’or, viens à mon secours » ; « L’ennemi est derrière toi, sur la croupe de ton cheval », répond la tortue. Le roi poignarde sa fille ; l’apprenant, son mari se jette dans un puit.
Méfiez-vous de la vie, car les ratés ne vous rateront pas!
Je n'ai rien écrit sur l'histoire de la citadelle!
Cependant, moi non plus je ne connais pas la même histoire...
Mais là c'est une légende que rapporte votre ami...
Après, ce que disent les livres d'histoires vietnamiens 😮..dans certains cas vous savez comme moi que l'on y écrit parfois et parfois souvent ce qui arrange...😉 et ce surtout quand ils sont destinés à l'enseignement...
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Il ne faut pas confondre les légendes et la vérité historique Pour ma part je préfère les légendes très instructives sur les mentalités. Mais dans l ensemble peu de différences.
Bonne soirée
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Les livres d'Histoire du Vietnam que je lis depuis plus de 2 ans pour écrire mon livre ne sont pas tous écrits par de Vietnamiens (il y en a écrit par des grands historiens comme Nguyên Thê Anh, qui en a écrit de nombreux dont une remarquable Histoire du Vietnam, publié par les Editions sociales!), j'ai toujours recoupé avec des livres écrits par des sommités françaises comme Philippe Papin de l'EFEO (superbe Histoire de Hanoi et Vitenam, parcours d'une nation aux Editions Belin) ET anglo-saxons, Pierre Brocheux, Charles Fourniau, etc. . C'est également celle relatée dans Wikipedia sous le titre Co Loa Citadel. Tous ces textes relatent la légende de Co Loa comme je l'ai écrite, avec la tortue d'or, l'arbalète magique, le mariage de la fille avec un Chinois, sa trahison et sa mort des mains de son père et le suicide de son mari dans un puits, donc pas tout à fait la légende de notre ami Tytynoir. C'est sans importance, j'ai juste pensé que relater une autre version, apparement plus fréquente, serait une bonne chose
Méfiez-vous de la vie, car les ratés ne vous rateront pas!
(2/2) La citadelle de l’escargot et l’arbalète magique
Song Hoang du côté de Co Loa à 18 km au nord-est de Hanoi, première capitale du Vietnam,
En fait, le nom de la citadelle est: Thành Cổ Loa (citadelle Co Loa), elle se trouvait au bord du fleuve Hoang (song Hoang signifiant fleuve jaune en vietnamien) Aujourd'hui, le fleuve Jaune à Co Loa n'est qu'un tronçon du fleuve qui a été rempli et rénové en canal d'irrigation.
Si la citadelle se dit aujourd'hui de l'escargot et porte aussi le nom de : thành ốc, (citadelle de l'escargot) c'est du à sa construction en spirale
Apres avoir aidé le roi An Duong a construire sa citadelle (la citadelle de l’escargot), le génie (King Quy) reprit sa forme initiale de tortue d’or. Mais avant de quitter le roi, la Tortue d’Or s’arrachant une griffe, la lui tendit en lui disant :
« Mettez-la en guise de gâchette sur une arbalète et vous serez invincible, car à chaque flèche, vous pourrez abattre mille ennemis »
Puis la Tortue s’éloigna, glissant sur le fleuve en direction de l’est.
An Duong confia cette griffe a un de ses serviteurs experts en l’art de faire une arbalète. L’arme magique achevée, le roi la fit suspendre au-dessus de son lit et veilla lui-même sur elle.
A cette époque, Trieu Da (Chao To), chef des tribus du Nam Hai en chine s’était déjà plusieurs fois livre à des incursions sur le territoire du « Au Lac », mais l’arbalète magique l’avait aussitôt découragé. Voyant qu’il ne gagnerait jamais par les armes, Trieu Da (Chao To) usa de la ruse. Il envoya son fils Trong Thuy porter a An Duong des offres de paix, avec l’intention secrète de détruire la fameuse arbalètes. Durant son séjour a la cour du roi, Trong Thuy eut l’occasion de rencontrer My Chau, fille préférée du souverain. Elle avait « les sourcils du bombyx et les yeux du phénix ».Son étrange beauté séduisit le jeune homme, qui de son cote lui fit grande impression. Les jeunes gens finirent par éprouver l’un pour l’autre un amour véritable. Il n’y eut pas d’endroit ou My Chau ne conduisit Trong T huy. Le roi ne voyait aucun mal a ces promenades sentimentales, et ne concevait aucun soupçon. Bien mieux, comprenant qu’ils s’aimaient, il leur permis de se marier.
Une nuit ou le ciel étoilé les conviait aux confidences, les jeunes époux, assis sur une pierre blanche dans le jardin, contemplaient les hautes murailles de la citadelle :
« Ma chère femme, dit Truong Thuy en caressant les cheveux de l’aimée, quel secret possède donc votre père pour être ainsi invincible ? »
« Aucun secret, mon cher époux. Notre pays possède une forte citadelle, des fosses profonds, et dispose d’une arbalète magique qui peut abattre plus d’un millier d’ennemis avec une seule flèche. Qui oserait nous disputer la victoire ! »
Truong Thuy fit semblant d’entendre pour la première fois l’histoire de l’arbalète et dit :
« Comme je voudrais voir un tel prodige ! »
Et My Chau, sans aucune hésitation, le conduisit dans la chambre de son père ou l’arme était suspendue. Elle alla même jusqu’à lui montrer la griffe de tortue et lui expliqua comment s’en servir.
Trong Thuy l’écouta avec attention, observa longuement la gâchette et ses dimensions sans rien dire.
Le jour suivant, il émit le vœu d’aller rendre visite à son père à qui il donna toutes précisions sur l’arbalète magique. Trieu Da ordonna à un habile spécialiste de lui fabriquer une gâchette en tous points semblables à celle de l’arbalète magique. La gâchette terminée, Trfong Thuy la dissimula dans ses vêtements et revint auprès de sa femme.
An Duong, qui adorait sa fille, feta le retour de son gendre avec les meilleurs alcools. Truong Thuy but avec retenue mais le roi et My Chau s’enivrèrent. Alors, profitant de l’occasion, Trong Thuy s’introduisit dans la chambre du roi, s’empara de la griffe et mit à la place sa propre gâchette.
Le lendemain, My Chau s’apercevant que son mari ne pouvait rester en place, l’interrogea sur son anxiété :
« Je dois partir de nouveau, mon père m’ayant demande de revenir pour remplir une mission dans le nord. »
My Chau, attristée, garda le silence :
« Si des troubles éclataient par hasard ici, comment saurais-je ou vous rejoindre ? »
Et My Chau répondit :
« J’ai une robe de plumes d’oie. Désormais, de quelque cote que je parte, je sèmerai ces plumes sur mon chemin et vous saurez ou me retrouver. »
Puis elle éclata en sanglots.
De retour à Nam Hai, Truong Thuy remit la griffe de la Tortue d’Or a son père la joie éclata :
« Cette fois, tout le « Au Lac » m’appartiendra ! »
Peu après, il mobilisa ses troupes.
An Duong, sur de son invincibilité, ne s’inquiéta guère. Il attendit que l’ennemi fut au pied des murailles pour mettre l’arbalète en action. Alors seulement, il s’aperçut de la substitution.
Les troupes de Trieu Da enfoncèrent les portes.
An Duong n’eut que le temps de sauter sur son cheval avec sa fille en croupe et de s’enfuir par une porte dérobée. Chau, elle aveuglée par l’amour, ne pensait qu’à semer son chemin de plumes d’oie. Apres des jours de fuite échevelée, ils atteignirent une colline dans le Nghe Thinh. Ils allaient descendre pour se reposer quand le roi aperçut l’armée ennemie. Désespéré, il se tourna vers la mer et appela le génie de la Tortue d’Or à son secours. Un vent violent souleva des nuages de poussières, secouant les forêts et le génie parut :
« Roi, l’ennemi est en croupe derrière toi »
An Duong alors compris. Fou de douleur, il prit son épée, tua My Chau et se précipita dans la mer.
L’armée de Trieu Da s’empara de la Citadelle de l’Escargot. Quand a Truong Thuy, il s’en alla seul à la recherche de My Chau, suivant les plumes d’oie semées sur le chemin.
Arrivée au bord de la mer, il vit le corps de sa femme dont la mort n’avait pu effacer la beauté. Il l’emporta pour l’inhumer dans la Citadelle de l’Escargot. Puis il se jeta dans un puits.
Aujourd’hui encore, au village de Co Loa, devant le temple du roi An Duong existe le puits de Tran Thuy. Selon la légende, le sang de My Chau coulant jusqu’à la mer, les huitres qui le burent devinrent des huitres perlières. On dit que si on lave une de ces perles avec l’eau du « Puits de Trang Thuy :, elle prend un orient incomparable.
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
La légende qui dit que le vilain chinois bien qu'amoureux de My Chau préfère trahir, voler et obéir a son père me semble tres compatible avec ce que pense lews vietnamiens actuellement.
Non ?
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
L’envie rend méchant
Il était ne fois un petit gardien de buffles, orphelin de mère. Comment s’appelait-il, nul ne s’en souvient. On sait juste qu’il avait le cœur bon, que son père s’était remarie et avait d’autres enfants.
Du matin au soir, le petit garçon bravait le soleil et la pluie pour s’occuper des buffles. Sa marâtre ne l’aimait guère et le houspillait sans cesse ; ses demi-frères le harcelait a tout propos. Il était le plus mal nourri et mal vêtu de la famille.
Un jour à midi, le ventre criant famine, il marcha vers une tombe abandonnée, autour de laquelle poussaient des bananiers sauvages. Au moment où il tendait le bras, pour cueillir quelques bananes un démon lui cria :
« Je vois bien que tu es sans le sou et affame, mais tant pis pour toi ! Tu n’a pas le droit de voler. Cette fois je passe outre, mais ne t’avise pas de recommencer »
Épouvanté, le pauvre garçon prit ses jambes à son cou et s’enfuit. Il s’arrêta au bord d’une rizière et implora le ciel en pleurant :
« Pourquoi suis-je si pauvre et misérable ? Oh Ciel créateur de l’univers et des êtres sur terre. Faites un miracle et donnez-moi de quoi subsister ! »
Un rayon de soleil illumina soudain une petite prairie. Quelque chose brillait au milieu de l’herbe. Le petit garçon accourut et ramassa une belle sapèque d’or. Tout heureux, il décida d’aller au marché pour acheter de la nourriture et des habits.
En chemin. Il rencontra une vieille femme qui mendiait, la main tendue. Le petit garçon hésita un instant puis lui donna sa sapèque d’or. Bien qu’il ait aussi faim qu’auparavant, il était content de lui.
Tout a coup, il entendit ses buffles s’agiter dans l’étang. Que se passait-il ? L’eau resplendissait de mille feux. Le petit garçon fit sortir ses buffles et n’en crut pas ses yeux : leurs poils étaient lestes de sapèques d’or. Il en prit quelques-unes et cacha les autres au fond de l’étang.
A partir de ce jour, il put manger à sa fin et se vêtir correctement. Quand il avait besoin d’argent. Il fouillait le fond de l’étang et ramassait quelques sapèques. Intrigues par sa bonne mine, sa marâtre et ses frères firent le guet à tour de rôle pour percer le secret. Quand ils surent le trésor que cachait l’étang, ils s’armèrent d’un immense filet. Mais ils eurent beau racler le fond de l’étang dans tous les sens, le filet ne leur ramena qu’une boue nauséabonde.
Le Ciel n’aide pas les méchants et jamais ne déçoit ceux dont le cœur est bon
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Les H’mông vivent éparpillés au Nord du Vietnam.
Un des groupes minoritaires du Vietnam,
Il y en à 53 minorités répertoriées au Vietnam et 54 groupes ethniques avec les King (Viet)
Les Hmong sont traditionnellement des agriculteurs montagnards itinérants et éleveurs de bétail qui tendent à se sédentariser à la suite de volontés politiques déterminées, , ,
Au Vietnam 5 sous-groupes Hmong dominent: les Hmong rouges (Hmong Do), les Hmong noirs (Hmong Den) les Hmong blancs (Hmong Trang), les Hmong verts (Hmong Xanh) et les Hmong fleuris (Hmong Hoa) émigrés de la Chine entre la fin du XVIIè et le début du XIXè siècle
Malgré les changements rapides de la société moderne, les femmes H’mông préservent leur identité traditionnelle au travers de leurs costumes et c’est sans doute ce que vous ne manquerez pas de remarquer en visitant les provinces du nord Vietnam,
Aujourd’hui, selon les études du Musée d’ethnographie du Vietnam, 40 des 54 ethnies de l’ensemble du pays ne portent plus leur costume traditionnel.
Chez certaines, à l’exception des personnes âgées, tous s’habillent comme Monsieur Tout-le-monde.
La cause principale de ce désamour est le changement des goûts en matière d’esthétique chez les jeunes, qui préfèrent les vêtements modernes et faciles à porter,
La diminution de la superficie réservée aux plantes à fibres textiles en raison de l’explosion démographique explique aussi l’abandon de la tenue traditionnelle,
Avec le développement de l’économie de marché et l’intégration du pays à l’international, les minorités ethniques n’ont plus besoin de cultiver des plantes leur fournissant ensuite du tissu. Il leur suffit simplement d’aller aux marchés pour s’approvisionner en matières premières souvent provenant de chine et en matière synthétique, , ,
Sur les milliers de villages de métiers et de coopératives de plantation de mûriers, de cotonniers d’auparavant, n’en subsistent plus que quelques dizaines,
Le chanvre reste cependant encore cultivé et travaillé par les Hmong au nord du Vietnam, (ici, le Cannabis sativa , celui que l’on ne fume pas, attention, l’autre est interdit et le risque est gros, , , )
Vous pourrez voir, lors de vos promenades, au loin, ces carrés de chanvre (vert tendre) encore cultivés en marge des maïs dans les montagnes, puis les grandes bandes de tissus séchant au soleil, sept mois sont nécessaires pour transformer la plante en un tissu exceptionnel ! Vous pourrez acheter ces pièces sur certains marchés ou encore au centre des tisserands « touristique » de Lung Tam, , , à une dizaine de kilomètres au nord de Quan Ba (et à 47 km de la ville de Ha Giang) en suivant la route QL 4 C
La situation géographique des villages a une grande incidence sur les matériaux dont les vêtements sont faits , lin, chanvre , coton, soie, satin, , ,
Les costumes seront donc différents selon la région d’origine (Chine d’où viennent les Hmong) et celle d’établissement au Vietnam,
L’age de la personne et son statue sociale, notamment pour les adjonction d’argent, ont aussi leur importance,
Dès l’âge de 7 ans, les filles commencent à apprendre l’art de broder, sous la conduite de leurs mères, grand-mères, sœurs,
Elles débutent par de simples broderies puis quand elles sont plus aguerries, elle commencent les pièces maîtresses de leur trousseau, à savoir leur robe de mariée et leur porte-bébé.etc… A l’âge de 15 ou 16 ans, elles maîtriseront parfaitement cet art,
La conception d’un costume traditionnel est un travail difficile exigeant un vrai savoir-faire.
Celle qui le portera plus tard doit assurer elle-même toutes les étapes de confection : de la production des fils à la broderie des motifs, en passant par le tissage, la teinture, la taille, la couture...
Et chaque ethnie à ses propres techniques.
Le rouge, le noir, le blanc, le jaune et le bleu sont les couleurs favorites
La Broderie
Le point de satin et le point de croix sont largement utilisés.
Dans certaines régions, on utilise également les points tressées ou des points de bouclettes,
Le satin cousu est brillant et lisse avec des motifs délicats et clairs d’animaux et de plantes.
Le point de croix est réalisé sur la face arrière du tissu, les motifs apparaissant sur le côté recto ou sur les deux côtés,
Le point tressé se fait en tressant le fil de soie en tresses, le pliant sur le tissu, puis le fixant avec du fil.
Les femmes Hmong maîtrisent le batik, leurs batiks colorés sont réputés chez eux et à l’étranger,
Le processus est complètement manuel et plutôt fastidieux, ce qui implique le dessin, la cire (avec un couteau de cire spéciale utilisant la cire d’abeille), la teinture et la cire de fusion.
La langue Hmong (les langues, le Hmong vert et le Hmong blanc et beaucoup d’autres n'ayant probablement pas encore été répertoriées , , ) n’a pas d’écriture aussi, des symboles ou des totems abstraits sont couramment trouvés pour raconter l’histoire.
Chaque région, chaque village, chaque sous groupe et chaque femme aura son propre style, ce qui permet (au plus initiés de les localiser géographiquement et ethniquement)
Ce sont les femmes qui choisissent leurs motifs en fonction de grands événements, du village, de la communauté et surtout de leurs propres inspirations, , , de quoi s’y perdre.
Les motifs se réfèrent très souvent aux bonheurs ou aux notions de protection contre la maladie, la stérilité, les mauvaises récoltes et autres contextes néfastes.
De grandes lignes demeurent, on trouvera presque toujours, l’arbre et la feuille d’érable, l’oiseau, les fleurs, le papillon, l’étoile à 8 branches et le svastika (qui représente ici la rotation du soleil irradiant les rizières).
La plupart des broderies ont des figures géométriques aux couleurs vives et contrastantes et spécifiques de chaque région ou lieu.
En général, les broderies sont effectuées sur des pièces à appliquer, sur les manches, épaules et bords de veste, les bas de jupes et de pantalons.
L’apothéose de l’art de la broderie est la réalisation de la jupe «aux cents plis» et le porte bébé traditionnel, ces œuvres de costumes nécessitent plusieurs années de travail.
Les ornements d’argent constituent une partie importante de la robe Hmong.
Les Hmong croient que l’argent peut dissiper les mauvais esprits et est aussi un symbole de richesse.
Les ornements en argent comprennent, un chapeau en argent (pièces ou sapèques), des cornes d’argent, des peignes d’argent, des boucles d’oreilles en argent, des colliers ras de cou, des sautoirs, des bracelets et des bagues.
La plupart d’entre eux sont faits à la main par moulage, martelage, tressage, et découpage de fleurs et sculpture.
Les motifs sont principalement le dragon, le phénix, les chevaux, les fleurs et les oiseaux.
A retenir lors d’une première visite, la couleur dominante qui vous indiquera l’appartenance,
Ensuite essayez donc de trouver les différentes broderies, , ,
Cherchez le porte bébé sur les marchés, ils sont toujours très beaux et authentiques,
Admirez, si vous avez la chance de les voir, les magnifiques bijoux parfois portés (pas aux champs mais pour les fêtes traditionnelles, les cérémonies et sur les marchés)
N’oubliez pas le temps et l’investissement personnel remarquables à la confection de ses trésors.
Faites vous plaisir!
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Ah, les H'mong, quel peuple !!!! J'ai explqiué un jour leur origine, des Toungouzes de Sibérie. J'ai également expliqué la raison pour laquelle tout le monde a un collier en argent autour du cou, mais je la remets car j'aime bien cette histoire. Une vieille légende chinoise raconte qu’un empereur de Chine affligé d’une plaie inguérissable à la jambe avait promis sa fille en mariage et la moitié de son royaume à celui qui le guérirait. Toutes les sommités médicales de la Cour échouent, mais un chien le délivre de la plaie en la léchant. L’empereur ne pouvant se résigner à donner la moitié de son royaume à sa fille et un chien, et n’ayant pas précisé quelle moitié il donnerait, il leur a laissé les cimes des montagnes. Les H’mong ont adopté la légende et fait leur ancêtre de ce qu’ils appellent Yao (Le Grand Chien).
Les costumes des femmes H'mong sont parfois des merveilles (voir photos - la première est le costume quotidien des H'mong Fleuris de la région de Bac Ha, les deux autres ne sont portés que lors de grandes occasions et ont été prises au grand marché hebdomadaire de Bao Lac, époustouflant !)
Méfiez-vous de la vie, car les ratés ne vous rateront pas!
Hmong, origine, des Toungouzes de Sibérie...🤪 (?)
Là je suis plus sur la réserve.
Le seul lien qu'ils pourraient avoir avec les Toungouzes serait l'origine du mot "chamane" Samane, qui est un terme toungouze ce qui ne limite pas la fonction a cette population et ne déduit pas non plus que les autres minorités soient automatiquement toungouze.
D'ailleurs les ethnologues aujourd'hui s'entendent pour reconnaître cet état de fait.
Malgré les hypothèses émises par les ethnologues anglophones ou les missionnaires français, les seuls mouvements migratoires connus et attestés sont ceux signalés par les Chinois. Le reste n’est que supposition.
Si une parenté peut être soupçonnée ce serait avec les Évenks un des 3 groupes Toungouze (du sud) (35 000 individus en Russie, 35 000 en Chine et 1 000 en Mongolie) bien que ces derniers n'aient occupé que le nord de la Chine, les Hmong eux sont originaires du centre et sud e la Chine.
Les ethnologues chinois, plus au fait que ceux de Russie (aucun écrit, aucune recherche sérieuse en la matière) restent prudents et étudient aujourd'hui les chants (pas d'écritures) de ces tribus (Hmong et Evenks Toungouze) pour en définir les origines exactes et les migrations et mixages.
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Bon, je recopie donc ce que j'ai écrit ici il y a longtemps :
L’origine des hmong reste inconnue car ils n’ont pas eu d’écriture jusqu’au 20e siècle ; ce n’est qu’en 1952 qu’on a réussi à transcrire leur dialecte en caractères romanisés, une tâche ardue car c’est une langue polytonale à 7 tons (le Père Savina parle d’une « langue bizarre qui se parle autant avec le nez qu’avec la bouche »). Les sources hmong sont donc orales, transmises de génération en génération. Leur tradition orale concernant leur origine parle d’une région « continuellement couvert de neige et de glace ; les jours et les nuits y alternaient de 6 mois en 6 mois ; les hommes étaient de petite taille et portaient tous une fourrure», ce qui amené des ethnologues à penser qu’ils sont esquimaux d’origine. Il semblerait également que certaines racines de leur langue sont proches de celle des toungouses, une tribu nomade de Sibérie qui s’appellent entre eux oevous, « hommes libres », le mot « hmong » ayant le même sens. En outre, Touby Lyfong, le « roi » des hmong Lao du temps des français, a expliqué à des officiers français parachutés au Laos en 1944 « nous sommes les cousins des samoyèdes (une autre tribu nomade de Sibérie) ; nous savons d’où nous venons, nos chansons nous le rappellent ; elles évoquent un pays où pendant 6 mois, le pays était éclairé par un petit soleil pâle et où tout était sombre pendant les autres mois de l’année ». Il faut aussi noter que les hmong possèdent en commun avec les tribus sibériennes certaines conceptions religieuses : croyance en un dieu paresseux, Ndzu Nyong pour les hmong, le « Maitre du ciel », dont on a peu à se préoccuper, multitude de bons et mauvais génies, chamanisme (« chaman » vient du toungouse saman) très ancré dans la vie quotidienne. Il est donc vraisemblable que l’origine des hmong est sibérienne.
Méfiez-vous de la vie, car les ratés ne vous rateront pas!
Bien d'accord, ce n'est pas pour autant une certitude d'origine avérée.
Je pense d'après mes recherches et contacts, qu'il y a bien eu mixité par moment et ce que pour certains.
Donc pas forcement une migration totale et une origine définie sibérienne avérée..
En matière d'ethnologie rien n'est définitif et aujourd'hui les spécialistes de la question s'interrogent encore et doutent.
Comme eux, je reste prudente et préfère pour ma part ne rien avancer avec certitude et attendre des recherches plus poussées.
Tout ceci est bien technique et pas sur que çà passionne tout le monde😄
Je propose que l'on en reste là pour le moment.
Belle journée
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Si les légendes trouvent plus leur place, à mon avis, dans la discussion "Contes et légendes du Vietnam" et là je ne les ouvre pas tous !!. Ces infos en vrac sur les marchés, les ethnies , les génies , les religions , les Méo aujourd'hui H'mong etc... ne me lassent pas. Mais je ne représente pas "tout le monde" .
Merci à vous
Eric
Bonjour
Ouiu les legendes ont leurs places dans les contes et legendes du vietnam, mais je pense aussi dans les informations qui permettent eventuellement aux voyageurs de connaitre les lendes lies aux sites qu'ils vont visiter (par exemple la cite de l escargot).
Bonne journee
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Bonjour
Ouiu les legendes ont leurs places dans les contes et legendes du vietnam, mais je pense aussi dans les informations qui permettent eventuellement aux voyageurs de connaitre les lendes lies aux sites qu'ils vont visiter (par exemple la cite de l escargot).
Bonne journee
Bonjour,
Sans doute que quelque uns peuvent permettre aux voyageurs d'en apprendre plus sur les sites visités , s'ils en ont envie.
Mais encore faudrait il bien situer ces lieux...
Sans indications précises le voyageur ne pourra pas s'y rendre...
A Nha Trang, je mets au défi de trouver Hon Vong Phu, Le Rocher de la mère et de l’enfant...😕
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Découvrir cinq plages parmi les plus exceptionnelles du Vietnam
Le tourisme au Vietnam s’est surtout développé à partir du tourisme balnéaire, grâce à ses plages merveilleuses qui s’étendent du Nord au Sud. Si vous avez l’occasion de visiter le Vietnam, vous ne l’oublierez pas !
Très optimiste le courrier du Vietnam quand il parle " des paradis sur la terre, des plages de sable blanc et de destinations de prédilection des touristes"
Certains de ces lieux n'ont pas de plage de sable blanc et d'autres ne sont pas ouvertes aux étrangers sans permis de circuler...
Cet article s'adresse plus au tourisme interne qu'aux voyageurs étrangers du moins pour certaines îles.
Ly Son, 😏
L'île est jolie ceinturée de rochers, pas de baignades aisément possibles l’accès à la mer implique que vous passiez les roches et les zones de culture des algue, pas de plage de sable blanc ici!.
De nombreux points de visites sont accessibles en moto (toutes semi - automatiques et proposées pour 7$ la journée par tout les hébergeurs).
Il y a de quoi faire entre la partie plate de l'île en ceinture ou dans les terres où est cultivé l'ail et les points plus élevés qui offrent de beaux panoramas.
Attention, l'île si tranquille en semaine, est très prisée le weekend par les vietnamiens, vous ne serez plus seuls au monde😮.
Une partie de l'île est sous surveillance militaire, ne pas essayer de passer, vous serez vite remis sur le droit chemin et sans ménagements!
Le seul endroit où l'on puisse se baigner sera sur la petite île de An Binh 🏴☠️ qui est à proscrire!
Très sale, couverte d’immondices qui ne sont autres que les poubelles de Ly Son...
De plus les horaires et les tours sur cette île sont encadrés, vous n'irez pas où vous voulez sans passer par un tuk tuk qui vous conduira sur une plage (toute petite anse) bourrées de restaurants...
La baignade est surveillée, on ne s’écarte pas de la zone où l'on a pied, les gilets sont fortement recommandés, les surveillants de baignade sont très actifs.
Pour se rendre à Ly Son:
A Sa Ky, port de départ des speeds, il y a un bureau réservé aux étrangers, la police y est présente, c'est là que vous remettez votre passeport et attendez l'autorisation d'embarquer, l’accès à l'île est interdit aux chinois et aux habitants Taiwan.
6 compagnies font la traversée à prix variables, des horaires leur sont attribués, vous ne choisissez pas votre bateau ce sera celui de l'heure de votre embarquement.
Plusieurs départs au long de la journée 8h, 9h, 13h30 et15h30, durée de la traversée, 1h20 environ.
Le bateau lent est réservé aux vietnamiens, je ne sais s'il est possible pour un étranger de le prendre, il part à 9h.
Vous pouvez embarquer une moto sur certains speeds, mais pas sur tous...
Une fois arrivé sur l'île la police vous attend sur le quai et vous accompagne au bureau du port pour un nouvel enregistrement, vous devez là indiquer votre hébergement (à prévoir donc!) et la durée de votre séjour.
Phu Quy - Cu Lao Thu
C'est aussi l'île des kitesurf....
Il faut une autorisation, un permis, (payant) pour un étranger qui sera à prendre via une agence, (il y en a de spécialisées Kite et Wind pour ceux que çà interesse)... ou au bureau de police du port...de Phan Thiet
Attention il faut parfois 2 jours pour l'obtenir...
Le bateau Superdong part de Phan Tiet et met plus de 2h30 heure pour rejoindre le port de Cang Phu Quy, départ à 6h30, présence dès 5h30, retour à 9h30, présence dès 8h30.
Belle île de pêcheurs avant tout, avec de jolies plages de sable, de nombreuses visites à faire et une restauration très axée sur la mer comme à Ly Son (on se régale!) mais du vent et des vagues qui rendent la baignade parfois compliquée surtout avec des enfants, les fonds sont vites profonds, prudence...
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Ca doit pouvoir interesewr les voyage3urs qui veulent sortir des sentiers battus mais il sera prudent de prendre une agence !
bonne soiree
Aujourd'hui tous les "sentiers sont battus".
Et pour aller dans une plage de rêve ce n'est pas au Vietnam et encore moins avec une agence, mais avec un bateau 😏 en Indonésie, Philippines, Myanmar par exemple.
Pour en revenir à l'agence au cas particulier de Phu Quy
Elle est nécessaire pour obtenir le permis de circuler et aussi éventuellement pour la location de matériel Kite ou Wind, à moins d'avoir le sien...
Bien entendu que pour le reste tout est possible, avec ou sans agence au Vietnam ou ailleurs, selon le souhait de chacun, sans jugements et sans à priori!
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Bien sûr vous avez raison vos informations sont précieuses quand on visite un site, ce que je regrette c'est justement de ne pas les retrouver en passant par la fonction "recherche" du site. Essayez "cité de l'escargot" rien n’apparaît !! et cela m'étonnerait que quelqu'un qui n'a pas suivi ce post depuis le début aille spontanément dans "Il est grand temps de rallumer les étoiles" pour connaitre cette histoire. Malheureusement je n'ai pas de suggestion à faire . Bonne soirée et bravo pour votre participation
Eric
Pas très difficile de trouver des sentiers NON battus au Vietnam ! Sorti de Sapa/Bac Ha/Dong Van?Ban Gioc, les montagnes du Nord en sont pleins, de "hors sentiers battus". Qui va chez les Ha Ni au nord de Sapa (village de I Ty), à Sin Ho entre Phong Tho et Muong Lai ; à Mong Thé et au délà en pleine sauvagerie entre Muong Lay et la frontière laotienne ; dans la région au nord de Méo Vac, superbe, avec en autres le village de Sin Chay, dans la magnifqiue région au nord de Dong Khé ; dans la région entre Tuyen Quang et Cho Ra(Babe) et dans celle au sud et à l'est de Langson ? Même autour de Ninh Binh/Tam coc, on trouve facilement des sites non fréquentés, comme les magnifiques églises au sud-est de Nam Dinh, les immenses salines de Pho Van Ly et les étonnates ruines de son église construite SUR la plage au ras des flots (voir ma discussion avec photos
https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=7235809;search_string=les%20eglises%20de%20Nam%20Dinh
ou taper "églises de Nam Dinh" sur "Recherche". Je suis allé au moins 8 fois à la cathédrale de Phat Diem, j'y ai très très rarement vu des touristes non-vietnamiens. Pareil dans les Hauts Plateaux, déjà bien moins fréquentés (au nord de Kontum par exemple, ou au très chouette lac Androuët au nord de Dalat, ou toute la belle région à l'ouest de Dalat). Moins facile dans le Sud.
Ceci dit, le problème justement, c'est que la majorité des agences ne proposent pas de tours dans ces coins. Certaines le font, notémment celles spécialisées dans le trekking (Nomad Trails à Sapa par ex propose un trekking de 4 jours en pleine sauvagerie chez les Ha Ni), mais ce sont des tours ni faciles, ni bon marché. Il faut en gros se débrouiller seul, en utilisant les forums afin que ceux qui "taillent la piste" renseignent.
Méfiez-vous de la vie, car les ratés ne vous rateront pas!
Ceci dit, le problème justement, c'est que la majorité des agences ne proposent pas de tours dans ces coins. Certaines le font, notémment celles spécialisées dans le trekking (Nomad Trails à Sapa par ex propose un trekking de 4 jours en pleine sauvagerie chez les Ha Ni), mais ce sont des tours ni faciles, ni bon marché. Il faut en gros se débrouiller seul, en utilisant les forums afin que ceux qui "taillent la piste" renseignent.
Bonjour,
Si les agences ne proposent pas ces destinations c'est aussi en partie parce que les "touristes" veulent tout voir en peu de temps sans accepter de faire l'impasse sur un des sites remarquables et ultra touristiques qu'il aura au préalable listés...
Et comme la plupart des coins que vous nommez sont reculés ce seront eux qui seront écartés...
Il y a un effort à faire
- du coté clients en acceptant de ne pas tout voir en un seul voyage en suivant le flot ordinaire...
- du coté agences , ces dernières pourraient quand même soumettre un peu plus ces destinations et ce même si ce n'est pas acté par la majorité des touristes...
Que l'on aille à Y Ti ou à Sapa les tarifs ne différent pas, c'est juste un autre programme.
Par contre au nord ouest, Muong Té, Muong Lay etc, ou plein est, vu le temps de route nécessaire il est normal que cela coûte plus cher...
Quand aux tarifs des treks..., là il a parfois, sous prétexte d'expertise 😐, une majoration qui ne se justifie pas!
Il y a plus d'une agence (pas toutes c'est certain) qui après avoir fait la VRAIE découverte du client, proposent de vrais hors sentiers battus, celle que vous nommez (encore 😕) n'est d'ailleurs pas la plus vertueuse ....
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
Tout a fait d accord, mais je pense que suite au Corona les futurs touristes vont demander des circuits peu communs et des sites et hotels Ecolo. Il va falloir que les agences travaille a proposer ce genre de circuits. Ce qui en plus favorisera les petites agences locales et familiales. Reste apres comment le faire savoir?
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Quelle utopie au Vietnam!
Il faudrait que tout change et à vitesse grand V pour pouvoir prétendre proposer des sites écologiques...même les quelques qui existent aujourd'hui ou se disent comme tels ne jouent pas le jeux et pour cause!
La pollution du sol 😕 est galopante dans ce pays, les traitements agricoles ne sont pas gérés avec modération, on arrose de pesticides, d'herbicides et d'engrais à tout va, les eaux ne sont pas traitées 😕 et tout repart à la rivière, dans les lacs où l'on où puisera l'eau des jardins et des animaux...
Quand à la pollution de l'air....😕, c'est idem!!
Ecolo:
Ce ne serra qu'un nouvel argument publicitaire pour attirer le client mais rien d'autre!
Ne vous inquiétez pas pour les agences, qu'elles soient, grandes, petites ou familiales!
Elles vont appliquer un "logo écolo" sur leurs sites et faire du tapage autour de çà, le client foncera sur l'offre et le tour serra joué!
Circuits peu communs
Ce serra en fonction de ce que décidera le gouvernement en matière de circulation et aujourd'hui on peut supposer de tout y compris de zones non accessibles...
Inutile de s'enflammer!
La seule chose à faire c'est de patienter en espérant que le Vietnam que certains connaissent, loin des routes touristiques, restera accessible...
Pour bien aimer un pays il faut le manger, le boire et l’entendre chanter. (Michel Déon)
C'est sur il faut etre utopique, mais si on reve pas ca devient triste. Je suis entierement d'accord.
J'ai une fois fait le choix d un hebergement ECO a cote de SAPA. Super accueil, arrivee a mon bungalow un panneau solaire devant l'entree! mais a y regarder de plus pres les arbres bouchaient le soleil et une bonne dose de poussiere empechait un rendement minimun. De nature optimiste et de formation technique je demande a voir le responsable et en Anglais lui explique les conditions de fonctionement. Tres gentil nous depannons le panneau solaire, tres content de moi je le vois donner a son equipe les instructions pour les autres bungalows. Bon restauarant sans plus mais le plus c'est le petit dejeuner: Je demande un jus d'orange sans sucre et on m'emene une brique de super marche! La j'ai craque et suis reparti de suite dans un hotel non ECO mais servant des jus de fruit Frais avec en plus une vue super.
Alors il ne faut pas baisser les bras, le gouvernement Vietnamien est tres attache au tourisme pour donner du travail au 20 millions de jeunes actuellement entre le college et le lycee. Si veritablement une demande de sejour ECO se fait le jour ca ira tres vite. ll ont prouve que ils peuvent etre tresdirectif ( voir le COVID)
Revons et soyons acteur de ce changement a notre petite echelle.
Bonne soiree
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Bonjour
Ouiu les legendes ont leurs places dans les contes et legendes du vietnam, mais je pense aussi dans les informations qui permettent eventuellement aux voyageurs de connaitre les lendes lies aux sites qu'ils vont visiter (par exemple la cite de l escargot).
Bonne journee
Bonjour,
Sans doute que quelque uns peuvent permettre aux voyageurs d'en apprendre plus sur les sites visités , s'ils en ont envie.
Mais encore faudrait il bien situer ces lieux...
Sans indications précises le voyageur ne pourra pas s'y rendre...
A Nha Trang, je mets au défi de trouver Hon Vong Phu, Le Rocher de la mère et de l’enfant...😕
Voici la situation de Hon Vong Phu confirmée par un de mes amis de Nha Trang...
Grand merci à lui!
Hon Vong Phu: hauteur de 2 051 m il se distingue par deux blocs de marbre (verts) adjacents, appelés Hon Me et Hon Con. Les gens l'ont appelé Vọng Phu parce que cela ressemble à une mère tenant son bébé qui attend son mari...
Il se situe dans la montagne Chu Mu à 30 km de Ninh Hoa
Les excursions se font depuis M'Đrăk jusqu'au village 9 de Ea M'Doal en voiture...puis à pied en traversant la rivière Hinh, puis la montagne et la forêt, comptez environ 8h d'ascension (aller) pour les plus aguerris...
Une petite goutte d'eau dans la mer de Chine: Le tri selectif est obligatoire a Hoi An avec verification aleatoire des poubelles et amendes. Et au Vietnam ca peut aller tres vite.
Bonne journee
On commence a vieillir quand on arrête d'apprendre (Proverbe Japonais)
Compte rendu de notre périple asiatique du 10 janvier au 02 février 2010 Merci aux contributeurs (particulièrement Abalone) de ce forum qui nous ont grandement…
J'ai hésité à poster ces carnets de voyage. Le but étant de partager avec amis et famille, faire rêver, interpeller et surtout partager. Je pars régulièrement…
Voilà bientôt deux mois que nous sommes rentrés (voyage du 21/9 au 6/10), les impressions se sont un peu décantées, le tri des photos est en bonne voie et la…
Mon épouse et moi vous livrons le récit détaillé de notre voyage au Vietnam du 13/07 au 09/08/2012. Il nous a fallu pour cela noter chaque soir ce que nous…
Il y a un an, j'ai poste 2 longs messages "Grand tour du nord-est du Vietnam" et "Grand tour du NO du Vietnam". Depuis ce temps, je ne cesse de continuer a…
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 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...)
02 mars — Départ en bus de Latour à 6 h 50. Le trajet n’est pas direct : nous traversons Elne puis Corneilla. À Perpignan je change de bus pour un BlablaBus en direction de la gare routière nord de Barcelone. Avant d’arriver au Perthus, la police française nous arrête pour vérifier les papiers d’identité. Plusieurs personnes ne sont pas en règle, mais après environ un quart d’heure nous repartons. Nous sommes de nouveau contrôlés à La Jonquera : cette fois l’attente dure presque trois quarts d’heure pendant que la police identifie les personnes en infraction et attend qu’un véhicule vienne les récupérer. Le chauffeur essaie ensuite de rattraper le retard ; nous arrivons finalement à destination avec une demi‑heure de retard.
Je me rends rapidement à la station de métro Arc de Triomphe, située à 200 m : il faut traverser le pont le long du parking des bus, puis traverser un grand jardin ; la station se trouve à droite avant l’entrée du jardin. Le trajet vers l’aéroport n’est pas direct : je dois changer à Tomasso et prendre la ligne pour l’aéroport, où j’arrive à 13 h.
Au comptoir d’Emirates j’apprends que mon vol vient d’être annulé en raison de la guerre en Iran ; on me propose un autre vol pour le lendemain. Je dois attendre à l’aéroport jusqu’à 19 h avant d’être conduite à un hôtel ; le lendemain matin je prendrai un vol pour Vienne (avec une escale de 8 h), puis un vol Air India pour Delhi et enfin un vol pour Kolkata. J’accepte : je ne connais pas Vienne, ce sera une découverte imprévue.
À 19 h, un petit groupe est conduit à l’hôtel, à 35 minutes de l’aéroport, où l’on nous sert un léger dîner à notre arrivée.
03 mars — Un taxi vient me chercher à 6 h 30 ; le vol pour Vienne décolle à 9 h 30 et arrive à 12 h. Je suis libre jusqu’à 19 h ; le métro est direct pour rejoindre le centre‑ville. Le temps est agréable et pas trop froid, heureusement, car mes vêtements sont légers.
À la sortie du métro j’aperçois au loin la tour de la cathédrale Saint‑Étienne et je m’en approche : la toiture, faite de tuiles vernissées, est remarquable.
L’entrée est gratuite et l’intérieur, de style gothique et baroque au centre, est grandiose.
Non loin de là se trouve l’église Saint‑Anne
, également baroque, ornée de belles fresques
un concert de musique ajoute une atmosphère envoûtante à la visite.
Je poursuis ma promenade au hasard dans les rues piétonnes aux magnifiques bâtiments : je suis séduite par la ville.
Avant de repartir pour l’aéroport, je fais une halte dans un joli salon de thé. Mon vol partira finalement avec du retard.
Mercredi 4 mars — Delhi et petite frayeur bagages
Nous arrivons à Delhi peu après midi. Le passage à l’immigration est rapide et, bonne nouvelle, mon sac a été enregistré depuis Barcelone pour Kolkata. Je me rends donc au terminal de correspondance et arrive une demi‑heure avant l’embarquement : le vol se déroule sans problème. À l’arrivée, les bagages sortent vite… sauf le mien. Après avoir fait une déclaration, on me signale que mon sac est à Delhi — il faut aller le récupérer avant de prendre un autre vol. Je l’ignorais (ou l’avais oublié) : avec le retard accumulé, je n’aurais pas eu le temps de le récupérer et de prendre la correspondance.
Je prends un taxi pour l’hôtel Ichamati. L’accueil est chaleureux et la chambre propre, mais très petite. Sans mon sac, je me sens un peu désemparée — je n’ai rien pour me changer.
Ce soir je dîne avec Raja et ses amis dans un beau resto, une ancienne maison coloniale transformée en hôtel.
Nous sommes heureux de nous voir et passons une bonne soirée réconfortante.
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...
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 dot 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 colorful mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to the nearby Asakusa 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 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, the 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.
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!
After summer 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland in summer 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, to tackle part of the Kungsleden trail too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which is, from what we’ve read, stunning but very crowded (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 choice is that there’s no way to resupply in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with the Sarek in mind.
Oh well, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before 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).
But 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.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather hiccups.
So if you’re interested, come follow our overstuffed 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 + round 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
Coming up:
08/13 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – Above the Skarki hut
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.
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.
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... 😉
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
Just back from two weeks in Andalusia, and I wanted to share this experience with you—maybe it’ll help with planning a trip. I’ll start with a quick recap in this post and try to add photos and day-by-day details later (still sorting through them). Hope I don’t bore you too much! 😎
Trip details:
April 20 to May 4, 2019:
7 days on the Costa de la Luz (El Puerto de Santa María) in an Airbnb,
4 days at the junction of the Costa del Sol and Costa Tropical (Salobreña) in an Airbnb,
3 days at Cabo de Gata for some rest at a campsite in Los Escullos.
Two families of four, each with our own car: three 9-year-old boys and a 6-year-old girl. One family was more into city exploration (not us, but we’re working on it), and the other preferred relaxation and nature (that’s us). We speak a little Spanish.
Over 5,000 km, including 2,500 km for the round trip from Carcassonne.
The weather: Variable, but we expected better for this region in late April. The first week on the Costa de la Luz was sometimes chilly (< 20°C), and the second week was warmer but not excessive (< 25°C). At least we didn’t get much rain!
Our budget: Around 2600 € per family:
700 € for accommodations, about 50 € per night,
1000 € for meals and restaurants. We usually spent around 50 € per family at restaurants—we ate out for lunch (except for 2–3 picnics) and cooked at home in the evenings, trying to be back by 6 PM.
600 € for activities: Río Tinto, a flamenco show, visits to the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar, Oasis Park with meals, and a kayaking trip.
300 € for gas and tolls.
Preparation: A few months ahead with bookings for accommodations and tickets for the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar. We used a few travel guides—I like the *Évasion* guide for initial planning. *Géoguide* was okay, but our friends’ *Routard* was the most useful. We also spent three months brushing up on Spanish with Mosalingua (a great spaced-repetition method, max 10 minutes a day). Downloaded Maps.me and the Andalusia map in advance—essential. And we used Tricount to track shared expenses with friends—super handy.
What we did/saw:
3 city visits (Seville, Granada, and Cádiz) + Málaga for our friends (we vetoed Córdoba—too many cities for us).
4 white villages (Vejer de la Frontera, Arcos de la Frontera, Grazalema, Ronda) + Tarifa for our friends.
Beaches (Tarifa and Bolonia, Matalascañas, Nerja, Cabo de Gata).
Nature and fun moments: Doñana National Park, a kayaking trip along the rocky coast near Nerja, and the Wild West/animal park in the Tabernas Desert.
A little culture: Río Tinto mines, the archaeological site of Itálica, Columbus’s caravels, Nerja Cave for us, and the Picasso Museum in Málaga for our friends. Plus, seeing the ham-drying process in the Alpujarras (for our friends).
Our highlights
Nerja and the surrounding villages: The rocky coast was amazing, and we loved the kayaking trip, even if the water was freezing for snorkeling. The beaches are sheltered from the wind, the town is charming, and the cave is incredible.
El Rocío and Doñana National Park. El Rocío has a timeless, almost Wild West vibe—we could’ve stayed a day or two. The quiet and pine scents reminded us of the Landes region.
What we didn’t love as much:
Río Tinto mines: Not super exciting, and the guides’ nonstop chatter kind of ruined the "nature" experience.
Our little regrets (for next time):
Forgetting our passports and missing a day trip to Tangier from Tarifa.
Not having an extra day around Nerja to go snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada—just 1.5 hours away (the kayak guide suggested it).
Not spending at least one night in El Rocío to explore Doñana National Park at dawn.
Antequera with the Guadalhorce reservoir and the Caminito del Rey (but it would’ve meant 2 more hours of driving, and we didn’t have the energy).
My general impressions of Andalusia and Spain
Landscapes: A feeling of extreme concentration of a single activity in some areas—endless olive groves, wind farms on the Costa de la Luz (which I thought were well-integrated), rows of buildings along the Costa del Sol (yikes, glad we didn’t stop there), greenhouses around Almería (a shame to have frozen the coast for so many kilometers), and the massive industrial port of Huelva.
What surprised us compared to France was the lack of small hamlets—villages are clearly defined, and people cluster there, leaving vast landscapes without human presence. In France, you find houses scattered everywhere.
Roads: Relatively few tolls. Sure, rest areas aren’t as nice as in France, but the roads are in good condition, and our wallet was happy. The roads are pretty straight with countless bridges and tunnels—the upside (besides fast travel) is that there aren’t many secondary roads disrupting the scenery.
Tourism and activities: A huge variety and richness. Feels like everyone can find something they like, and 15 days barely scratched the surface. It’s amazing how quickly you go from the coast to snow-capped peaks (Sierra Nevada) or from farmland to desert (Tabernas). And the mix of European and Arabic architecture in the same city is really special.
One small regret: Not interacting more with locals. We didn’t luck out with our Airbnbs. But shopkeepers were great—very patient with my broken Spanish! :-)
Overall, I think our choice to stay on the Costa de la Luz and then near Nerja worked well. We could explore pretty easily (even if we logged a lot of kilometers), and the settings were fantastic. The 3 days of total relaxation at Cabo de Gata were perfect.
If you prefer shorter stops, you could try staying in El Rocío (easy access to Seville and great for an early visit to Doñana National Park) or maybe Grazalema for a hike in the mountains (weather-dependent). And of course, Tarifa for a day trip to Tangier or Gibraltar.
Sometimes fantasy and a change of scenery are right near home! I love exploring the four corners of the planet, but there can also be a whole world just a little farther than the end of your street—or even the tip of your nose! So I’ll share with you in pictures the beautiful kermesse of Ath, which we only discovered last August, even though we’re neighbors (we live in Lille).
I could have subtitled this travel journal: "Ferme eut’bouc tin nez va quer eud’dans"; it’s an expression in Picard language, literally “Close your mouth or your nose will fall in,” said to someone who’s amazed—and amazed I was!!!
Ooooooooh, giants!
Oh, how I love them! In the North, we have lots of these giants, like Reuze Papa and Reuze Maman in Cassel, or Gayant, Marie, and their children Binbin, Jacquot, and Fillon in Douai, and many more.
Huh? What? You don’t know what a Géant du Nord is?
Well, it’s a benevolent hero, a legendary figure, a protector, a symbol tied to a city that parades through it, walking and dancing during carnival or the local festival. The tradition is said to have originated in Portugal in the 13th century (at least that’s where we have the first records), then we see them in the Netherlands starting in the 15th century. In the North, the oldest are Gayant and Marie of Douai (16th century), but many new ones have appeared since the 1980s with the revival of carnivals. In practice, it’s a large character (or animal figure) several meters tall; the structure is made of wicker, the body is often papier-mâché, but the head can be wood, as in Ath (lime wood), and the clothes and accessories are made of fabric, leather, and wood. The flared robe (for both male and female giants) allows one or more carriers to slip underneath to move it using only their arms, shoulders, and legs—and even make it dance! There are over 1,500 giants in Belgium and 450 in Hauts-de-France, mostly in the Nord and Pas-de-Calais departments.
In Ath, there are giants—LOTS of them! I’ve never seen so many at once. And each one is carried by only one man at a time (except for Bayard, you’ll see why later), even though the structure weighs over 100 kilos—so the carriers take turns quickly! The Ducasse of Ath and its giants have been inscribed on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage list since 2008, as part of the "Processional Giants and Dragons of Belgium and France."
What’s more, the Ducasse of Ath is remarkable for its age and local roots; a procession was first mentioned in 1399, and today the many musical groups are still local (Ath and surrounding towns). The event is extremely popular: a good part of the population is there, all generations mixed together. Everyone knows the groups, floats, and giants, and each has their favorite! Originally, religious groups paraded, illustrating episodes from the Bible or the Golden Legend. Gradually, the parade became secular and kept evolving by adding new giants, historical figures, or allegories linked to local history (Ath, Belgian Hainaut, Belgium).
Finally, the beautiful floats are all pulled by magnificent draft horses, and that’s extraordinary! The town council itself rides in fine carriages that close the parade.
To wrap up this long introduction, know that the Ducasse of Ath lasts several days, but the highlight is the highly codified procession that takes place on the 4th Sunday of August (actually, the procession passes twice, once in the morning and once in the afternoon).
So, let’s go!
On this Sunday, August 26th, we’re in Ath in the early afternoon to see the procession. What a popular enthusiasm! Everyone is wearing the city’s colors (purple, yellow, and white), often with a twisted fabric necklace. Everyone is happy, smiling, from the giggling toddler to the sprightly centenarian sipping beer with her rosy-cheeked cousin and the pretty freckled blonde niece. People call out to each other, laugh, hum, and congratulate each other all around.
People start positioning themselves at strategic spots along the route—wider areas where the giants stop to perform a dance to the tunes of the brass bands accompanying them. And there are brass bands—at least one per giant and float!
The wait passes quickly in this joyful atmosphere. Suddenly, the music grows louder, and here comes the first giant at last! It’s the "two-headed eagle," with a child (a real one) sitting safely on a little chair.
Present in the procession since the late 17th century, it originally had only one head (normal, right?) and accompanied the tailors’ guild. It gained a second head during the royal visit of 1854 (go figure why!). It’s 3.30 meters tall and weighs 115 kilos (without the child). All the men you see in white are carriers taking turns.
Its dance consists of spinning the bird around—you’d think that little kid up there must be getting dizzy!
Next is the "Neapolitan fishermen’s boat." It’s a magnificent float representing a ship, with handsome sailors clinging to its rigging. This float first appeared in the parade in 1856.
It’s followed by a human giant on stilts: "Saint Christopher of Flobecq," holding a flowered staff and carrying Christ on his shoulders (this time, not a real child!). It appeared in the 19th century, then disappeared from the procession before being reintroduced in 1976.
Now here come the "Blues," dressed in French uniforms. This group is the heir of the former cannon-arquebusier company, and they punctuate their parade with gun salutes!
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far-from-exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, the Nishiki Market:
A little sneak peek?
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Ooooooooh, giants!
Oh, how I love them! In the North, we have lots of these giants, like Reuze Papa and Reuze Maman in Cassel, or Gayant, Marie, and their children Binbin, Jacquot, and Fillon in Douai, and many more.
What’s more, the Ducasse of Ath is remarkable for its age and local roots; a procession was first mentioned in 1399, and today the many musical groups are still local (Ath and surrounding towns). The event is extremely popular: a good part of the population is there, all generations mixed together. Everyone knows the groups, floats, and giants, and each has their favorite! Originally, religious groups paraded, illustrating episodes from the Bible or the Golden Legend. Gradually, the parade became secular and kept evolving by adding new giants, historical figures, or allegories linked to local history (Ath, Belgian Hainaut, Belgium).
To wrap up this long introduction, know that the Ducasse of Ath lasts several days, but the highlight is the highly codified procession that takes place on the 4th Sunday of August (actually, the procession passes twice, once in the morning and once in the afternoon).
It’s followed by a human giant on stilts: "Saint Christopher of Flobecq," holding a flowered staff and carrying Christ on his shoulders (this time, not a real child!). It appeared in the 19th century, then disappeared from the procession before being reintroduced in 1976.
