Oh, you might prefer the official narrative that’s fed to you about the superiority of your current world, but freedom has clearly been in decline—across Europe and pretty much everywhere—since the 1990s.
Ah, you may prefer the official narrative about the superiority of our current world, but freedom has clearly been in decline, in Europe and almost everywhere else, since the 1990s.
Michel
I’m far from thinking our current world is superior—superior to what, anyway?—but still... Could you give examples of situations where we’d be significantly less free today than 30 years ago? What freedoms are in decline for us Westerners, individually or collectively?
As far as I know, I can go where I want, I can criticize (I’m not talking about insulting or defaming) politicians, judges, religious figures, merchants of all kinds...
I can associate with whoever I want, vote for whoever I want, believe or not believe in a god, choose my doctor...
As for the 1920s, they saw a lot of precarity and exploitation of workers and employees in post-war France. Peasants weren’t very “free” or happy either. I base this on what I’ve often read and heard.
Thanks for shedding some light on this!
« Celui qui voyage sans rencontrer l’autre ne voyage pas, il se déplace »
Alexandra David-Neel
Don’t you know that what revolutionized women’s lives and gave them freedom appeared in the 1960s? I’m talking about birth control, the arrival of the washing machine, and then May '68.
But probably too basic for you, no doubt.
At all times, people had such miserable lives that they took refuge in religion. This is still the case in many parts of the world today.
Humans weren’t necessarily happier before, and happiness is a relatively recent concept.
We don’t all find happiness in the same things.
Okay, we’re drifting off the original topic here, but since we’ve started, might as well keep going! 🙂
I don’t get the impression that people today are happier than before—in fact, I think it’s quite the opposite!
Happiness isn’t a recent concept at all; ancient Greek philosophers were already talking about it!
As for the idea that we don’t all find happiness in the same things, I completely agree with you! Personally, I certainly don’t find it in religion!
Me neither!
I meant that people found a certain comfort in it. Suffering in this world and being rewarded in the next. That must have prevented a lot of suicides.
As for happiness, let’s just say there was less room for the pursuit of individual happiness, and above all, fewer choices!
People didn’t choose their jobs or whether to have kids, they didn’t divorce (though they could take mistresses—finding lovers was harder!), they just carried their cross.
So I don’t know if they were happier, but maybe less individualistic—it was survival of the fittest back then.
I don’t envy my ancestors, and I also feel sorry for future generations.
But since I only believe in this earthly life, I try to enjoy it in my own way.
If I can’t be useful, at least I try not to harm anyone!
My guilty pleasure is traveling by plane. It makes up for my daily life where car trips are rare.
Tatra must be talking about the freedom that Erdogan gives to Turks, no doubt.
Regarding women:
Beyond the right to abortion, birth control (1967), in 1975 women gained the right to open a bank account without their husband’s approval, to rent an apartment the same way—these rights opened the door to our freedom as women.
So the few exceptions in the 1920s (there were some) were peanuts, but the great Tatra knows the history of the women’s movement well, doesn’t he? 🤪.
Tatra must be talking about the freedom Erdogan gives Turks, no doubt.
Regarding women:
Beyond the right to abortion, birth control (1967), in 1975 women gained the right to open a bank account without their husband’s consent, to rent an apartment likewise—these rights opened the door to our freedom as women.
So those few exceptions in the 1920s (there were some) were peanuts, but great Tatra knows the history of the women’s movement well, doesn’t he? 🤪.
Women had more freedoms in the 1920s than they did afterward in post-war France, but since you’re trapped in a linear conception of progress—that dogma halfway between religion and science that marked the period of the French Revolution—you can’t see it.
History, you know, isn’t an objective ribbon of the past we unroll; it’s the story we endlessly rewrite from where we stand and the culture we have.
In the 1920s, you built your life freely by breaking away from the weight of village life if it felt oppressive. You changed worlds, places, lives, jobs, families—everything was there to be built, and the horizon of possibilities was far broader than it is today, for women and men alike: artistic or literary creation, political or societal engagement, the ability to reject norms, start a business, innovate... And the chance to start over—new job, new place, new life, adventure.
Nowadays, you’re mostly free to be afraid like everyone else, to say the right thing, to make sure you don’t fail to comply with the ocean of rules, norms, and obligations that constrain you for your own good, and to take the free medical tests your health insurance insistently sends you to ensure you die too old and bored.
So there was a breath of freedom after the slaughter in the trenches and the Spanish flu.
What do you really know about what people lived through outside of a few privileged circles (how do you know)?
And apparently that’s enough for you to say humanity was happy and free before the horror it supposedly plunged into since the 90s?
To challenge our clichés and naivety, your arguments still seem pretty childish to me.
Tatra is Martine. A fairy tale and a sense of wonder at life. A certain kind of life that smells like mothballs and takes plenty of liberties with history and reality—but who cares? What matters is that it’s disruptive and it’s buzzing.
Tatra in the 1920s, Tatra under Erdogan, Tatra in the gulag...
Tatra in the 20s, Tatra under Erdogan, Tatra in the gulag...
So cute.
Well... As mathematician B. Russell wrote:
"In fact, it is in its uncertainty that the value of philosophy largely resides. One who has not grappled with it goes through life like a prisoner: imprisoned by the prejudices of common sense, the beliefs of their country or time, convictions that have grown within them without the cooperation or consent of reason. Everything in the world seems self-evident to them, so much so that things are this way and not another, their horizon is limited, ordinary objects do not question them, and unfamiliar possibilities are dismissed with contempt."
I don’t know if Tatra is a high school philosophy teacher, but if so, he must really contribute to the idea that philosophy is useless (from his cloud, no less).
I can only speak about what happened in France in the 1920s, and that through my grandmother’s story.
The post-war period was a breath of freedom for her.
She was a seamstress at Coco Chanel and went dancing in *guinguettes*.
In old yellowed photos, you can see her in a short Charleston dress striking a pose with a cigarette in an elegant gold cigarette holder.
She told me she felt like a suffragette. She shocked her mother by removing her braids coiled over her ears and cutting her hair very short with *accroche-cœurs* on her forehead.
When she took the train to Burgundy, she’d drive the family car—a pale yellow and brown Talbot DC—upon arrival because she’d earned her *certificat de capacité*, the precursor to our driver’s license.
She adored Josephine Baker, balls, music, painting, had a crowd of friends to party with, loved jazz and *la musique nègre* as it was called back then, Maurice Chevalier, and also danced the tango much to her mother’s dismay.
As a little girl, I loved listening to her, and I thought her life was full of new experiences.
A time of carefreeness and regained peace, whose small events from her life as a working-class woman in Paris she shared with me enthusiastically.
She wasn’t privileged—working 10 hours a day in a sewing workshop, living in a maid’s room without heating in a building above a metro entrance—but she felt free and was eager to discover everything.
Anyway, that’s not the point—I’ve completely gone off-topic!
For happiness, an important factor is confidence in the future. From 1945 until the 1970s, the general belief was that life was going to get better. Today, it's the opposite.
When it comes to freedom, there are opposing ideologies. We see this clearly in the debates here about coronavirus measures. Some prefer individual freedom, while others prioritize collective freedoms.
For freedom of expression, I still notice that many films, TV shows, and press articles from the 1970s and 1980s wouldn’t be possible today.
It was a breath of freedom for everyone, men and women alike.
Of course, there were suffragettes who didn’t have the right to vote 😕, so thanks to them for advancing our freedom.
For the rest... we still had a long way to go.
When I got divorced in 1975, I was asked for my husband’s permission to rent an apartment because I was only separated, and I could open a bank account—it seems the law had just passed. Some freedom, huh? 🏴☠️.
Sure, I could go dancing, but that didn’t exactly help with daily life. 😉
Tatra to Pondy, Tatra to Pondy, squadron of Zeros in sight at 10 o'clock, roger... Pondy: I see you, I'm coming and I'll take them down...
Well, that's great for your grandmother. My grandmothers, though, were farmers, and it was a much less charming time. They had so little choice that they died in the same village where they were born, in the same social class, and after living the life you could’ve bet they’d have at their birth. Four children, two of whom died from illness in early childhood—enough to drive both of them nearly mad with grief. She steered her own ship in a man’s world as best she could, gnarled like an old oak, worn down by the years, yet she still held on and outlived her husband, who was struck down by a nasty disease that a kind country doctor failed to diagnose and the local healer couldn’t cure. Sure, things were better back then.
Since personal stories are now meant to prove a point—like the cheerful cashier or the doctor who speaks up once the door’s closed—we end up with the Grandmother of the 1920s. Who can deny that the '20s weren’t kind to some people? That they were generally great? Allow me to doubt that *very* strongly.
I’ll add that to live through the '20s and enjoy them, you had to have lived through the Great War, World War II (which we might one day call the Second), or both. Because it’s pretty hard to experience one era while ignoring the ones around it.
What a cheerful little program.
Oh right, I almost forgot—Tatra, JP Sartre in the clear light, chest puffed out, will tell us there’s no freer time than during wars. Damn, we’re doomed again... Caramba, missed the mark once more.
Why say "it was better before"?
What you’re sharing is really interesting, and I’d love to hear even more about your grandmothers’ rural lives. Life in the countryside—harsh and conservative—was so different from city life, and that’s what makes it fascinating.
It’s through countless personal stories that we can get just a tiny glimpse of an era I barely know, beyond books, films, or research...
In the 1920s, at least in Europe, people were freer, had more possibilities, more reasons to give meaning to their lives, more opportunities to start over if things went wrong, and more anonymity and adventure. It’s not impossible that they were ultimately happier, even though they were deeply influenced by both religion and nationalism.
Michel
You’re definitely talking about a very privileged minority of city-dwellers. And in that case, the range of possibilities and adventure was indeed much broader for them than it is today. Just read Ella Maillart to see that in terms of freedom of movement and morals, things were better than today for some women—a very small minority. But for the vast majority of peasants in France, their world was often limited to their village, their work, and their family. They made do with what they had, and that might actually be a recipe for happiness... The peasants who left or immigrated did theoretically have far more opportunities, but in practice, they often did so to survive or feed their families, like migrants—far from the freedom to choose or the search for meaning.
Tout ce qui a été perdu dans la plaine, tu le retrouveras dans les montagnes. Proverbe géorgien.
I’m like you—I can’t even understand how some people can say something so outrageous. And what’s this ‘it’ they’re talking about?
We’re still living better today than at any time before: overall, more comfort, better quality of life, more safety, more freedoms (I said *overall*). But maybe we’re at a turning point, some kind of peak.
Pondy, do you think your grandmother was freer than you? (By the way, working at Coco Chanel in the 1920s wasn’t something everyone did.)
It’s Tatra who keeps saying things were better before.
Going off-topic for the sake of it!
As a very young woman, my grandmother moved to Paris to try her luck.
With her father’s approval but not her mother’s.
She found a job as a maid in a wealthy household that very evening.
One night out, she was dancing at a *guinguette* and hit it off with the head of a workshop at Chanel, which had several ateliers in Paris. That’s how my grandmother became a *petite-main*. She sewed perfectly.
And for the anecdote, I framed the finely pleated and embroidered romper my father wore—it’s really lovely.
To answer your question: “Was my grandmother freer than me?”
I have no idea; she considered herself free and lived freely.
I think society hadn’t yet confused need and desire.
And while comfort exists at every level today, I’m overwhelmed by the pressure to think, buy, and consume a certain way. I have to weigh my words and bend to a host of new obligations.
I’m swamped with messages of all kinds—from “eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day” to “protect yourself, protect others,” etc. I’m fed up with prevention campaigns, fed up with moralizing speeches, fed up with this culture of command as if my life, if I didn’t listen, were surrounded by dangers.
Even though comfort exists at every level today, I’m overwhelmed by the demands to think, buy, and consume—I have to weigh my words and bend to a host of new obligations.
I’m swamped by messages of all kinds, from "eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day" to "protect yourself, protect others," and so on. I’m fed up with prevention campaigns, fed up with moralizing speeches, fed up with these instructional commands as if my life, if I didn’t listen, were surrounded by dangers.
So it wasn’t better before, but it *was* better before. A fan of "at the same time."
Being a good mother, a loving and respectful wife, knowing how to do laundry, sew, not vote, obey and respect all authority, be the guardian of the home, and stay out of everything else... That was life for most women.
You’re feeling overwhelmed right now, but it seems to me you’ve got the critical and intellectual tools to free yourself from these so-called demands, right? So what’s the problem?
Before, most people didn’t have a choice at all.
The "it was better before" mindset is a gateway to bitterness and nostalgia. Two words/ills that are very much present today too.
Even though comfort exists at every level today, I’m overwhelmed by the constant demands to think, buy, and consume. I have to weigh my words and submit to a host of new obligations.
I’m swamped by messages of all kinds—from "eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day" to "protect yourself, protect others." I’m fed up with prevention campaigns, fed up with moralizing speeches, fed up with this culture of commandments as if my life, if I didn’t listen, were surrounded by dangers.
You mean we’re being infantilized.
Comfort infantilizes, and I think a lot of people have dreamed—or still dream—of being treated like children their whole lives.
The demands you’re talking about never get to me personally.
In my opinion, you need a certain zone of carefreeness and tranquility—which some might call a luxury (boom, more morality)—to make space for them.
How awful to hear the same old "eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day" drilled into us... the terrible slavery of modern times...🤪 (I bet generations of actual slaves are rolling in their graves if they hear this kind of complaint)
Even though comfort exists at every level today, I’m overwhelmed by the injunctions to think, to buy, to consume—I have to weigh my words and bend to a host of new obligations.
I’m swamped by messages of all kinds, from "eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day" to "protect yourself, protect others," etc. I’m fed up with prevention campaigns, fed up with moralizing speeches, fed up with these instructional commands as if my life, if I didn’t listen, was surrounded by dangers.
So it wasn’t better before, but it was better before. A fan of "at the same time."
Being a good mother, a loving and respectful woman, knowing how to do laundry, sew, not vote, obey and respect all authority, be the guardian of the home and abstain from the rest... That was the life of most women.
You’re overwhelmed now, but it seems to me you’ve received the critical and intellectual tools to free yourself from these so-called injunctions, right? So what’s the problem?
Before, the majority didn’t have the shadow of a choice.
The "it was better before" is the door to bitterness and nostalgia. Two words/ills that are very current too.
Yes, life was hard and rough.
Mortality was rampant.
Fleming hadn’t yet discovered antibiotics.
Women aborted with knitting needles and parsley stems and often died.
The war had left thousands of widows struggling to survive.
There’s no such thing as that famous "at the same time" and "it was better before" you’re talking about.
It was different, that’s all.
What has fundamentally changed isn’t the notion of happiness—a feeling unique to each individual—but the notion we no longer talk about: joy, which is an emotion.
The joy that’s never mentioned: the joy of living, of flourishing, of rejoicing, of feeling the fullness of the moment.
And when everyone lives in their own corner, the joy that comes from feeling connected no longer exists.
Living in your own corner means limiting contact, parties, gatherings, setting up remote work, etc.
The simple joy of passing days that no one talks about anymore, as if everything were serious, grave, guilt-inducing, worrying.
Pondy, you give us an almost idyllic account of your grandmother’s youth and life in the 1920s. From what I understand, she achieved emancipation thanks to her move to Paris and her work.
But despite everything, she wasn’t equal to men. I can imagine the frustration.
That carefree and superficial world of the 1920s, which may have existed, certainly shattered against the crisis and the Second World War.
Now, it’s my turn to tell you about a rewarding relationship I have with a lady born in 1920. She talks to me about her youth and her mother. And two expressions often come up in her stories: "poor Maman" and "you had to toe the line," which were tied to those years. For her, women were trapped in a rigid framework due to class differences, social norms, unspoken rules, their lack of place in society, and difficult family relationships. I could ask her which era she preferred—1920s, 1960s, or 2200s—but she’d only talk about her happy early childhood, and that’s it.
I completely agree with you. It was indeed a minority, because few women had the right to speak up—the laws were made by men and for men.
No possibility to vote, and therefore no possibility to run in elections, and there were no exceptions: all women were affected, whether emancipated or not.
In 1920, in cities, did women in all French cities have financial freedom? Because all independence starts with money. And freedom from a spouse, submission.
A little objectivity instead of naivety would be useful.
I don’t know if it’s better now or if it was better before.
Today, there’s a lot of psychological suffering. I’m not saying there wasn’t any before, but only those who could afford it went to see someone about it.
The less fortunate were so overwhelmed by their circumstances that they probably didn’t have the time to reflect like we do now.
Besides, introspection isn’t necessarily time we choose to take. We’d rather rush through everything (shopping, traveling—though travel *can* be a source of introspection—racing from theater to concert venues just to distract ourselves).
You know, back in the 1920s, young women who left their countryside—without any regrets, by the way—to work in the city truly found freedom and fulfillment. If the boss wasn’t a good fit, you’d ask for your pay and have another job the next day. People weren’t as stuck in situations as they are now; you’d turn the page, start over somewhere else, head to the other side of the world with someone...
Even in late 19th-century France, there wasn’t this obsession with security, guarantees, or protection that we have today. Life was more adventurous, worries were more relative... It’s not absurd at all to think people were happier back then.
Now?
Without identity, without religion, without nation, without struggle, plugged into the madness of media-driven fears and with no way to feel alive, people in the early 21st century probably don’t have many admirers.
I completely agree with you. It was indeed a minority, because few women had the right to speak, laws were made by men and for men.
They couldn’t vote, so they couldn’t run in elections, and there were no exceptions—all women were affected, whether emancipated or not.
Personally, I struggle to take voting very seriously, and I find the idea of a calling for politics even less appealing—whether it’s a man or a woman doesn’t matter to me.
But most of all, I think you’re focusing on facades, on the way history has been presented to you: women have always had power, more than people care to admit.
In the Middle Ages, for example... And more recently, in many expressions of our societies—rural, maritime.
But above all, I think you're sticking to facades, to ways history has been presented to you: women have always had power, more than people care to admit.
It’s like the Turkish journalists in prison—we’re wrong to stop at prejudices.
How awful to read what you’re saying about women’s power.
Not being equal to your husband or brother when it comes to voting—you have a strange response... democratic voting isn’t that important.
About the impossibility of having a bank account, do you have an answer like that?
About the impossibility of defending yourself against abuses within the "marital duty," do you have highly philosophical responses that leave us speechless?
But above all, I think you're sticking to facades, to ways history has been presented to you: women have always had power, more than people care to admit.
In the Middle Ages, for example... And closer to us in many expressions of our societies, rural, maritime.
Michel
Basically, women got the right to vote much later than men, but to you that doesn’t mean much of anything serious?
If women have always had power, can you give me some notable examples of how they’ve used it? For instance, in what situations have they banned an activity for men? At what times have they been able to control their own bodies as men have?...
Basically, women got the right to vote long after men, but for you that doesn’t mean much of anything serious?
If women have always had power, can you name a few notable ways they’ve used it? For example, in what situations have they banned an activity for men? At what times have they been able to control their own bodies as equally as men?...
Looks like I’m inspiring you.
No, the right to vote has a long history—it’s always been subject to criteria: status, wealth, category... Limited to citizens, or based on income...
These days, it’s still denied to foreign residents without raising your objections, I believe.
Personally, I rarely use it and don’t attach much importance to it. Plus, it’s mostly become a consumer product: we vote for one to get rid of the other, then later for a third to get back at the second for the disappointments they caused.
There’s nothing in that resembling real projects or programs.
As for the rest of your point...
I don’t know much about Latin France, but in the rural or coastal Brittany I knew, women often held the power: controlling the purse strings, driver’s licenses, decisions on education, housing, investments, and real estate purchases.
Fishermen husbands, even captains, would come back from sea only to be denied entry to the living room without slippers and sent off for a drink with the cash slipped to them for the evening. As for farmers, often it was mopeds or tractors for them—only the wife had the car license.
You didn’t need a bank account in your name to call the shots back then.
When it came to controlling their own bodies, women have always found ways to have abortions, and I truly believe we’ve never had less control over our bodies than in today’s world.
Just one reply about how women have always had the power...
When you read this cliché, this tired old statement, you realize women still have a long way to go to achieve real equality.
It’s not some random guy saying this—at a push, you could forgive that—but someone who flaunts their knowledge all over the forum with endless quotes. Someone who teaches and even questions the usefulness of voting.
In short, a caricature.
Only one response about the woman who has always had the power....
When you read this commonplace, this hackneyed assertion, you tell yourself that women still have their work cut out for them to achieve true equality.
It’s not some Bidochon saying this—at a push, you could forgive that—but someone who flaunts their knowledge all over the forum with various quotes. Someone who teaches and even questions the usefulness of voting.
In short, a caricature.
I’ve never been in favor of equality, which is an absurd concept that ancient philosophers already criticized, but rather for equity, "geometric" justice, if you will.
Women very often held a great deal of power, in fact—even in the medieval world.
I suggest you check out this, for example.
....... When it comes to controlling our own bodies, women have always had abortions, and I truly believe we’ve never had less control over our bodies than in today’s world......
....... As for having control over one's body, women have always had abortions, and I truly believe we've never had so little control over our bodies as we do in today's world......states Tatra.
There are things you just can't let slide—Tatra’s trying to shove a knitting needle up your nose. In the c........and you’ll see how "pleasant" it was to have an abortion, and I’m being polite.
When I think of all the horrors poured onto Simone Weil for defending the law, I never imagined we’d still be reading this kind of nonsense today.
Having control over one’s body is a broader issue than just abortion: generally speaking, we have less control over it than before, and it seems hard to deny that.
But of course, women had abortions—they risked accidents doing it, but they did it, and in large numbers.
Yes, even the prisoner—contrary to stereotypes—has full control over their body. They can slit their wrists, hang themselves, etc...
It’s tough fighting against preconceived ideas, huh...
Do whatever you want with your body, go wild, but leave women alone and go play in your own sandbox.
I almost feel sorry for you, all shriveled up behind your keyboard, rehashing nonsense while name-dropping philosophers (that’s what’s really annoying). You must be really unhappy.
Even though a prisoner has to secretly get razor blades or rope. Meanwhile, women were encouraged to keep knitting needles at home... as long as they weren't varnished, mind you...
Because you think😉 that in the 1920s women were *that* happy at work? Here’s an example: a young woman on her hands and knees polishing the floor.
The boss had enormous power and enjoyed belittling people.
Your "nowadays," I gather you’ve got quite a bit to put up with.
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Hello everyone on this forum!
I know in advance that what I'm about to say here won't please everyone, but honesty is a virtue, isn't it?
Here's the thing: for many years now, I've noticed a habit in French-speaking posts of using abbreviations left and right, as if to show that we're "in the know." Let me explain with a few examples:
- - In discussions about Peru, I see "Aguas" for "Aguas Calientes." And if it's Mexico, well, it'll be "Aguas" for "Aguascalientes"!
- - For Guatemala, "travelers" will say "Guaté." Come on, saying "Guatemalas" would maybe be the undeniable sign that you know nothing about the country???
- - Back from Indonesia, many will talk about how familiar they've become with the country's language: "bahasa." Of course, everyone will know what you're talking about, but it still gets on my nerves because the language (one of the many languages) of Indonesia is "bahasa Indonesia." "Bahasa" actually means "language," and you'll find this word of Indian origin ‘Bhāṣā’ (it's Sanskrit originally) outside Indonesia too: in Thailand, for example, any language will be "phasa" as in "phasa thai" (official Thai), "phasa isan" (what's spoken in northeastern Thailand), "phasa angkrit" = English, etc.
Am I an incorrigible nitpicker? Maybe. But I'd also find it ridiculous if a foreigner came and told me they visited "Monte" during their trip to France, when it was actually Monte Carlo.
I read a lot in English and don't think I've encountered such a habit among English speakers.
Who’d like to share their best and worst travel memories in a few lines?
For me, it’s watching the TAJ MAHAL at sunrise and getting chased by dogs at the top of a mountain pass in GREECE on the way back from ISTANBUL.
THANKS GUYS
This is my 15,000th post, and it's a message I would have preferred never to write.
Patrick—Yangguizi—won’t be returning from his trek in Uganda. His health betrayed him in the mountains.
Like many of you, I laughed until I couldn’t anymore at his travel stories. I met him in Shanghai, then in Istanbul... We scoured restaurants—he was an incredible expert on world cuisines. We relived Korea, China. Always brilliant, so sharp, so funny, so down-to-earth. Being even a little bit his friend was something to be proud of. I think I envied him.
Patrick is still out there, of course...
He found his happiness running across the world. He’s on his path. He never doubted that "the traveler doesn’t even know if he’ll return one day."
Not sure this would’ve suited him, but his departure devastates me.
Alright,
Farewell, you foreign devil. Safe travels.
hello to all travelers with their eyes wide open to the desert...
I’ve always wondered what I was "doing" on this earth. And why my father, who died a few months after I was born—a former youngest French resistance fighter—joined the First Saharan Motorized Company in Atar and spent the rest of his life repairing army engines in Algeria, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali (which didn’t exist under that name back then), Morocco, and finally Algeria, where my mother was born and raised. (Believe me, it’s not "cool" being the child of a soldier in a country occupied by France, and even less so the child of a "pied-noir.")
Of course, I never got an answer: the dead don’t talk, and the army doesn’t either.
But here’s the thing—I had photos...
So naturally, one day I hit the road. I wanted to see, to understand.
It’s thanks to VF that I was able to do a little research on crossing the Morocco-Mauritania border, and I’m grateful to its members, just as I’m grateful to all those who welcomed me on the road for 14 years.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if I should talk about this or not...
It turns out the Mauritanians changed my life by asking for my help... And that started as early as February 2012... (Did I owe them something? No answer to that question.)
Ah, the irony—they saw me coming. But when you’re handed sick children and begged to do something, what would you have done? I’d worked in a hospital, so I knew a bit about the rules to follow. I didn’t hesitate.
And well, over all these years, I met doctors, surgeons, and together we organized care, evacuations of children, training for surgeons—even trying to stop children from having to travel outside their country. It was never easy. I’d like to thank those who supported us, as well as *La Chaîne de l’Espoir*, *La Fondation Face au Monde*, and everyone who built bridges between our two countries.
Unfortunately, despite the constant efforts of Mauritanian doctors and surgeons, some children couldn’t be helped in time. Today, I want to talk about four siblings—orphans of their mother—suffering from congenital glaucoma causing irreversible blindness. Their case was entrusted to me in 2020, just weeks before the big lockdown. We couldn’t do anything for them then, but when their father asked me for a gift, I rushed to my computer and wrote a story.
Through a tale, the children take a great journey, explore their country, and fulfill a dream. I never thought this book would be published—it was, in 2023.
This book pays tribute to Mauritania. It’s a message for those who know nothing about the hardships of life there, carrying both the harshness and beauty of an immense desert where you can travel by 4x4, bike, on foot, or by camel in complete safety. It bears witness to the kindness of Mauritanians toward travelers.
As a woman traveling alone in my vehicle—a now-rusted old Mercedes that no longer runs—I had the most beautiful encounters of my life there (I’ve seen other parts of the world...). The blind children of Choum, Atar, Nouadhibou, and Nouakchott will forever be in my heart.
Volunteer readers transcribed the book into a free audio version for the visually impaired. It’s available in sound libraries in France, the *Fondation Valentin Haüy*, and the Swiss Romande library.
I made my last trip to Mauritania in my old 4x4 to distribute the book everywhere, especially to its heroes and the school for the visually impaired in Nouakchott.
After that, I thought it was time to close the chapter because I no longer have the means or the strength to travel.
My publishers chose this title for it: *The Blue Eyes of the Desert*.
This publication helped a mission of Swiss volunteer ophthalmologists come to operate on glaucomas in Mauritania. I’m thrilled because they come back every year!
This adventure is ending, yes—everything must come to an end—but ultimately, it was born here, on the VF site!! So yes, I had to say it: THANK YOU!!!!!
Hi everyone,
I’m Loulou, a French expat who’s been living in Southeast Asia for about fifteen years, currently in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. A passionate walker at heart, I’ve trekked in Nepal (Thorung La, Mardi Himal), India, Vietnam, and I’m still planning new hikes (Char Dham, Langtang, Annapurna).
I’ve just published my first travel journal, recounting three months of walking and encounters across India. A portion of the sales goes to an educational center I support in Kep, for children whose parents work in the salt marshes.
I’m also working on a second book about Nepal with a musician friend, focusing on the Mardi Himal trek—two independent perspectives on the same journey.
Happy to swap stories with you about the Himalayas, India, Southeast Asia, or just the urge to hit the road and walk far from home.
Safe travels,
Loulou
Hi! It was totally by chance that I stumbled upon VoyageForum (an ad online and a story lol), and I’ve been reading some really old posts from 2011 about Thai massage schools—discussions on how to get by, accommodation, prices, etc. It reminded me of my own experience: I kept things simple by staying with a local family during my entire trip. I only shared all the expenses with them, which, I’ll admit, was super cheap… and I often traveled with them, which naturally opened a lot of doors for me. To start, at the school in Salaya, my Thai friend immediately connected me with Teacher Phong (the school’s mentor and teacher of teachers, a former monk). I was supposed to join a group session with other foreigners, but for some reason I don’t know, I got two days of private lessons for free with this expert… incredible! And on top of that, he loved France! It was an amazing experience. I "discovered" massage by chance—the Thai family just told me: "Try it, you’ll see!" (I’d had a pretty intense massage in the capital before 😅… but the next day, I felt unbelievably great!))
Every morning, I’d take a taxi (chosen by the Thai family at prices that beat all the competition) to this school—I’ve forgotten the name of the little village now… right in the heart of the countryside. Then, in the evenings, I’d keep practicing massage on all the family members… and they’d teach me Thai at the same time!))
Since then, I’ve practiced a bit, with lots of positive feedback. Following Teacher Phong’s advice—he thought my pressure was deep, firm, and precise—he strongly encouraged me to take this seriously.
I love Thailand so much. It’s a whole different way of living… and it’s a real blessing, even if I couldn’t live there full-time. Anyway, that was an unforgettable memory, and sometimes the Thai family and I still say hi—from 2011, 2013… right up to today!
"It seems to me that poverty would be less painful in the sun" wrote Aznavour...
Not sure...😕 Who can prove that people in hot countries are happier than others?
What do you think?
Is it better to live in Montpellier than in Lille?
Are the Pygmies happier than the Inuit?
Are Canadians less happy than the people of Louisiana?
Are there more French expats in hot countries?
And your travels? Do you choose your destinations based on the climate?
Do you rejoice when a bit of sunshine appears?
Hi everyone, just this once I’m not posting for a travel story, but to share a thought for Venezuela.
If you didn’t know—since it’s not making headlines—the country was hit by two 7.5-magnitude earthquakes last week. Over 2,200 people have died, more than 50,000 are missing, and some coastal towns have been completely destroyed.
Maybe when the scale of the humanitarian crisis becomes clear, our media will cover it a bit more... especially since earthquakes with this many casualties usually make the front page, but there’s been nothing in France.
So here’s a thought for this country, which, whatever you think of its politics, is a true jewel of South America, both for its landscapes and its people.
hi there
I’d like to invite you to discover my coastal province in central Vietnam: Quang Ngai.
This year, my province has really improved its infrastructure—mountains, countryside, and sea are all authentic here.
No harassers or thieves, and no Russians either.
A local lunch costs around 1 €.
A *** hotel room is about 25 €, and you can find hotels right on My Khe Beach.
We have a specialty: *banh xeo*—10 crepes for just 1.5 €.
You can rent motorbikes to explore the province and maybe visit the many ethnic minorities.
I live here—I’m not selling anything, but I can help if needed (my father-in-law is a traditional Vietnamese doctor and he’s very skilled).
Hi everyone! 😉
I’m Typhaine, 35 years old. Five years ago, I left France for a solo round-the-world trip—no planes, just a van, hitchhiking, cycling, and even a canoe in the Amazon! Today, I work as a naturalist guide in Argentine Patagonia.
Wherever I go, my compass stays the same: observing and photographing wildlife, which I deeply admire and respect.
My project: I’d love to share this experience through a sustainable, authentic, and immersive nature tourism initiative. But to build something meaningful, I need to understand how other nature enthusiasts experience their own adventures.
If you:
Are over 20 years old
Have a true passion for Nature
Have already taken at least one trip lasting more than 3 nights (in your country or abroad) in your life
Promise: I’m not selling anything, this isn’t marketing. Your answers are 100% anonymous and will only help me shape this wild project.
A huge thank you to everyone for your help and kindness! Looking forward to chatting in this thread 😛
(Dear admins, this is purely a collaborative effort for my project study, with no commercial purpose. Thank you so much for your support!)
Photo: Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis), female on the left and her cub on the right. Photo taken by me in Alaska, Denali National Park.
It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.
A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question.
They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???
Not even a simple thank you!!!
From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕
Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????
I spent 3 weeks in Bali last summer (+ 3 nights on Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java). So I wanted to see what ChatGPT could suggest for comparison...
Here’s the prompt I gave:
"You’re a local expert guide for Bali.
- Plan a 20-day itinerary for Bali with a side trip to Gili Meno and a day trip to Kawah Ijen in Java without staying overnight.
- I’m traveling with my wife, and I love visiting historical sites, hiking, relaxing at the beach, snorkeling, and exploring rice terraces...
- For the duration of the stay, I don’t want more than 8 places to sleep, and I’d like to stay at least 2 days at each stop to avoid unpacking too often. Except for the last night, where I’m okay with just one night near the airport.
- I prefer neighborhoods that are walkable and try to avoid typical tourist traps, though I don’t want to miss the must-see spots. So suggest a mix of iconic sites and hidden gems.
- Recommend hotels or guesthouses with a budget of 50 to 100 € per night, including breakfast. Make suggestions in areas popular with travelers, specifying the vibe (I prefer quiet), and consider safety and proximity to attractions.
- For lunch and dinner, suggest two to three restaurants that are well-rated by customers.
- Give me a day-by-day program with details on travel times, visiting times for each point of interest, and recommendations for transportation (taxi, train, bike, etc.).
Estimate the total cost of the trip, including accommodations, food, transportation, and activities, and suggest two tips for saving money in each category.
- Don’t make anything up—be realistic about travel times, take into account the opening dates and hours of sites, and give me the entry fees for places to visit.
- Ask me all the questions until you’re 95% sure you understand what’s being asked. Don’t generate your response until you’ve understood."
The AI asked for a few clarifications:
"Great request—I can build you a really optimized and enjoyable itinerary, but to be 95% sure I hit the mark, I need a few key clarifications (this will really influence the pace, areas, and accommodations)."
In the end, it proposed a program very close to what we actually did.
I’ll skip its accommodation and restaurant suggestions...
Its proposal:
"Ubud (4 nights) => we did 5 nights
Sidemen (2 nights)
Amed (3 nights) => we’d planned 2 nights
Gili Meno (3 nights) => we did Gili between Sidemen and Amed
Munduk (3 nights) => we did 2 nights before Pemuteran
Pemuteran (3 nights) with Ijen => we did 4 nights
Sanur (2 nights + 1 last night) => we chose Jatiluwih instead of Sanur
It suggested "activities" (and accommodations too):
IN UBUD:
- Walk around central Ubud (1–2h)
- Campuhan Ridge Walk
- Tegalalang Rice Terrace
- Tirta Empul
- Gunung Kawi
- Massage / market / slow café
IN SIDEMEN:
- Rice terrace hike (2–3h)
- Cooking class
IN AMED:
- Snorkeling
- Japanese Shipwreck
- Beach + relaxation
- Volcano sunset
ON GILI:
- Snorkeling at Gili Meno Turtle Point, Nest Underwater Statues
IN MUNDUK:
- Jungle & waterfall hike - Munduk Waterfall + Melanting Waterfall
- Loop: 3–4h (perfect for your level)
- Ulun Danu Bratan Temple
- Twin Lakes
IN PEMUTERAN
- Snorkeling: Menjangan Island
For Kawah Ijen, it detailed the day well:
👍 from Pemuteran = best possible option
12 PM: leave hotel (we left at 10 PM)
1 PM: ferry
3 PM: arrival in Java + transfer
11 PM: start ascent
2 AM–6 AM: volcano
Return to Bali around 11 AM–12 PM (we got back at 4 PM)
👍 still very intense, but doable with an agency
💰 ~80–120 €/person all-inclusive
IN SANUR:
- Relaxation
- Quiet beach
- Proximity to airport (30 min)"
I’ve kept the habit of blowing my nose in the sink and then washing my hands—a custom I picked up in India. Sometimes, non-travelers are shocked when they catch me in the act... 🤪
Also, when I run out of toilet paper, it doesn’t bother me—unless I’ve got company over... 🤪
Just got back from walking a friend’s dog (while they’re on vacation), wearing a djellaba and Tibetan boots... 😏😏😏 Oh, for sure, if I’d run into locals, I probably would’ve shocked them? 😏
Anyway, as long as I’m not spitting on the floor at a restaurant or squatting on the side of a highway with a water bottle in hand...
After taking a little trip around the world, I came back a few months ago with an idea in mind.
I mostly do diving, and I love observing animals in their natural habitat without disturbing them.
During the trip, I realized it was quite complicated to know where and when to see certain species.
For example:
where to dive with sharks or manta rays
where you might get a chance to swim with whales
I even discovered thresher sharks during my trip… I didn’t even know this species existed before, even though they’re incredible to see.
We spent a ton of time searching for info all over the place, especially on social media, without ever getting a clear picture.
So I started putting all this together on my own, in the form of a map, to make it easier to visualize where to go depending on the seasons.
I recently put a first version online (it’s called Fauneya).
There are probably mistakes, inconsistencies, or things to improve, and that’s partly why I’m posting here.
I’d really love to know how you all go about planning this kind of trip.
As part of my Master’s thesis, I’m currently conducting a public survey on a topic that concerns all of us when planning a trip: artificial intelligence and the role of human contact in travel planning.
These days, we’re using more and more digital tools to find ideas, compare options, and book trips... but is the role of human advisors still essential? At what moments? And for what types of trips?
The survey is anonymous and takes about 7 minutes.
It’s aimed at anyone who travels (or has traveled) for leisure, whether you plan everything yourself or go through an agency.
While browsing the forum to gather info for my upcoming trip to Thailand, I often see the terms "traveler," "great traveler," and also "tourist"—so what’s the nuance for you?
I've traveled quite a bit in Vietnam over the past few years—from the southern delta to bustling cities and even some small islands—but what really sticks with me is the north, the high mountains.
Up there, there's something different—maybe slower, more raw. The morning markets with ethnic groups, women in traditional clothes, the colors...
The stilt houses, kids following you and laughing for no reason, the terraced rice fields—it almost feels unreal at times, so vast and quiet, yet so human and simple.
You often hear that Sapa has become too touristy, and that's partly true, especially in the center. But as soon as you move a little farther away, everything changes quickly. The landscapes open up, encounters feel more natural, and you rediscover something truly authentic.
I think it's that contrast that struck me—the difference between what you imagine before going and what you actually discover when you take the time.
And you—what memory do you hold onto from Vietnam? A particular place that touched you more than others?
Hello,
We’re finalizing the plans for our upcoming trip to China in May 2025. The second-to-last stop will be in Zhangjiajie, where we’ve planned to stay for 2 full days before heading to Shanghai.
We’re traveling solo using local transport and have arranged to stay in the city of Zhangjiajie.
We’ve seen that there’s a lot to see:
Tianmen Mountain, the Grand Canyon and the glass bridge, Zhangjiajie National Park, and that the sites are quite far apart with fairly expensive entry fees.
We’re thinking of dedicating one day to the national park and the Grand Canyon (glass bridge) and one day to Tianmen Mountain.
But we’re not sure if this plan is realistic—any thoughts would be much appreciated!
I should be serving a warming drink to the participants in the discussion about gardens and parks that provide us with beautiful photos, I could mention the delicious buttery scent wafting from bakeries in the thread about returning to France, but my heart, its powerful pulse that nourishes my entire being, is elsewhere.
Dasht-e Lut, Yazd, Esfahan, Bam, Kerman, Qeshm, Hormuz—a melody, a prayer at the heart of desire.
A dream, an unattainable fantasy? No. Not anymore.
A very serious Italian travel agency is organizing this trip for 6 people this winter. I’m signed up, I’m going, I’m living. Maybe.
"But you’re completely crazy!!!!"
I know... I know that every civilization, every society has a vital need to create scapegoats to define and justify itself, pathetically. And Iran is one of them, top of the list. I laugh or sigh, and it doesn’t bother me.
But that unchanging red, deep red and garnet, so beautiful in itself, in all the Western chancelleries repeats, whispers, shouts: don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, you’re putting yourself in danger and we can’t do anything for you. You’ll be turned into mere bargaining chips, into arguments for endless negotiations. Fear must be instilled, its power absolutely preserved, no concessions made to the enemy. The information (how many French hostages, real or fake, compared to the number of travelers?) is always lacking.
Traveling becomes a merciless confrontation between desire, the vital pulse, and anxiety, its ghosts.
Hi everyone, here’s our itinerary. Arriving on the evening of December 13th. Departing on January 7th.
Thanks in advance for your tips and valuable feedback.
Manila – 1 night
Coron – 4 nights
Coron to El Nido cruise – 2 nights
El Nido – 4 nights
Port Barton – 5 nights
Flight from Puerto Princesa to Vigan
Vigan – 2 nights
Sagada – 2 nights
Banaue – 2 nights
Bagabag – 1 night
Manila – 1 night
I’ve only booked the flight to Manila and the Manila/Coron flight so far. Is it possible to book boat trips, accommodations, and the Puerto Princesa flight last-minute?
Really disappointed with Costa Rica! Pura vida? The scam of the century!
(Costa Rica pure emptiness).
The country where animals are free and people are in cages.
3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer.
Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness.
My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place.
On the main routes, we visited:
San José
Alajuela
Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side)
Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side)
And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched.
He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown.
What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor.
At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José:
It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken.
On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox.
From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire.
Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets.
Bars with security guards out front.
I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel.
The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses.
The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in.
A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park.
Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further.
We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it.
A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces.
A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures.
But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business.
Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse!
According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable.
Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos.
A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park!
A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park.
The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color.
Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded!
Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30.
The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches.
As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves.
A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!"
For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex!
The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for?
For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places.
In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs:
Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you.
For everyone else: run!
Hello,
Since the war between Russia and Ukraine, nothing is simple anymore for traveling to Belarus due to sanctions.
No more direct flights from the EU to Minsk.
Driving is a huge hassle, especially crossing through Poland at the only open border in Brest—you can wait 2, 3, or even 4 days just to get through by car.
The least painful driving option is to come via Lithuania and cross at the only open border, with a minimum wait time of 8 hours, sometimes up to 20 hours or more!!
Controls are very strict and annoying on both the Lithuanian and Belarusian sides. Avoid bringing alcohol, food, or cigarettes—everything will end up in the trash, especially when leaving Belarus for Vilnius, where the Lithuanians are tough, even with EU citizens.
The joy I once knew when visiting my wife in Minsk is sadly over—it’s now a real ordeal.
The fastest solution is to fly. My wife travels to France by taking a bus to Kaunas in Lithuania, where you can catch a flight (though not daily) to Paris Beauvais or Charleroi in Belgium with Ryanair, for example.
For the return trip, it’s the same: a flight to Kaunas and then a direct bus from the airport to Minsk.
The bus crossing is quicker than driving—the 250 km journey, including border checks, takes about 6 to 8 hours for buses leaving Lithuania around midnight, but controls are still strict at the border.
The biggest challenge is finding flight schedules that align with the bus routes between the two countries, given the unpredictable border crossing times.
Now, my wife travels via Charleroi in Belgium (near Brussels), and you can take a train to Paris. Alternatively, you can fly into Beauvais and take a bus to Paris (Porte Maillot).
For those driving, note that EU insurance and assistance policies no longer work in Belarus or Russia. You’ll need to get local insurance, usually limited to third-party liability (I don’t think full coverage exists?), as well as mandatory medical insurance. This is available at the border.
You now have to pay highway tolls—no more BELTOLL boxes. Instead, you pay a flat fee for the duration of your stay. Stop at the first gas station after crossing from Lithuania to fill up on fuel and cigarettes.
From what I know, Lithuania bans carrying more than 60 € in cash, but there’s no limit for USD (though it’s capped at $10,000??).
With a Visa card, you can now withdraw 1,000 rubles per week (about 270 €)—two months ago, it was only 500 rubles!!
For now, you can still pay by card in shops and gas stations.
However, major retailers like KORONA (which may be Russian-owned??) no longer accept foreign Visa cards.
Unfortunately, the additional sanctions announced by the U.S. on August 5, 2025, against Russia—and possibly Belarus—aren’t promising for the future.
After 20 years of visiting Belarus, I’m truly saddened to see the joy of living in this country with my wonderful wife turn into such a bleak situation, all because of human folly.
Hi everyone!
I’m putting together our travel itinerary for Veneto at the end of April. And the more I look and research potential sites to visit, the more I find!
We’ll only be there for a week—my family and I—including 3 days in Venice. So we have to make some choices...
I plan to rent a car when we arrive in Venice and head straight to Bergamo, which would be our first stop. We’d leave the car at the airport when we return to Venice so we can explore the city at our leisure.
What do you think:
1 night in Bergamo (a 2h15 drive from Venice airport),
1 night in Garda,
1 night in Verona,
1 in Padua, and
3 in Venice—would that be doable?
Thanks in advance for your tips and experiences! :)
Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here.
It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.
First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.
My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year.
I told her:
“Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.”
“But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.”
I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk.
“Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.”
I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).
July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen.
“Mamido, I did it!”
My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no!
“Congratulations, sweetheart!”
A little shyly, she said:
“Is the India trip still on?”
And me, replying:
“Of course it is!”
And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.
We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint!
But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out.
Personally, that works just fine for me.
Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me.
But I promised.
The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.
It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back.
My little girl will go home to her parents.
As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.
How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special?
That’s the mystery of love, I guess.
I’ve visited the U.S. four times myself, including two long road trips. The last one was just this past August...
I won’t be going back. I already felt guilty last August, but recent policies have finally convinced me: the humiliation of Zelensky, authoritarian excesses, Gestapo-like methods for detaining people of foreign origin, the murder of innocent people (a mother shot dead), corruption, insane "tariffs," skyrocketing healthcare costs for Americans, the abduction of foreign figures to secure oil, the requirement to disclose social media accounts, and now... threats and blackmail to forcibly take Greenland—a region that belongs to Denmark and thus the European Union!
The reality is that simply posting this could get me denied entry to the U.S.!
In this context, I just can’t keep spending money there. I loved my trips, but there are so many other countries with stunning landscapes to explore.
So I get why you’d want to travel there. I did, and I loved it. But once a country no longer respects any of the values that made us love it, why go?
How can we even consider traveling to a country that threatens to take one of our territories by force?
Hello everyone,
Controversial topic? Not necessarily—maybe just a reflection on a world to come.
I spent the last 15 days of August on a cruise in Greenland, from Kangerlussuaq to Tasiilaq.
I was utterly amazed by this unique world of rock and ice, the little houses in every color, a simple life that’s also complicated by isolation and climate, among other things...
I carry in my heart the kindness of the people I met, the raw and gentle majesty of the icebergs, the colors of the sky...
So, I can’t even imagine a massive presence of raw material prospectors, heavy machinery requiring roads to be built—if that’s even possible—changing their way of life... putting sled dogs out to pasture!
Do fast food and Greenland’s northern lights really mix?
I wouldn’t trade my memories for an ESTA!
All opinions are respectable, which is why this isn’t a controversy—but I’m sorry, I have a soft spot for *my* Greenland.
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