Bon je me suis trompée, pas plus que toi je ne supporte cette exploitation sexuelle financière que ce soit homme ou femme , quand au couguars on en parle beaucoup mais on n'est jamais choqué par ces veillards qui se payent une jeunesse à l’étranger c'est un peu ça qui me gène , habituée du Maroc j'ai toujours vu des vieux avec des jeunes femmes et non le contraire .
Entendons nous bien , je ne suis pas choquée par la différence d'âge, d'un coté ou d'un autre, je suis choquée par l'exploitation financière .
si-si, je suis une femme. 😎
Dommage que vous ne précisiez pas ce qui vous fait penser que je sois un homme : ce doute m'a surprise et ma foi, le doute est toujours intéressant. 😉
En effet je n'ai pas dit que "toutes les femmes étaient émancipées". 😎
Pas plus là-bas qu'ici.
Là-bas : il n'y a qu'à s'intéresser 2 minutes aux statistiques inscrites au fronton des écoles : une colonne pour les garçons, une colonne pour les filles.
Les filles disparaissent en masse à chaque classe d'âge dès 10 ans. 🤪
_ "Qu'en faites-vous ?
_ MouAHAHA. On t'expliquera." (fut la réponse du 1er directeur visité.)
(si-si : "MouAHAHA. On t'expliquera.")
Puis, au cours de maths (80 élèves à la louche serrés comme des sardines. Le + jeune : 10 ans, le + âgé : 18 😮)
_ "Heu... Et parmi tous ces élèves, lequel est ton meilleur ?
_ Celle-là. (Hochement de tête vers une jeune fille de 14 ans coincée au bord d'une fenêtre, un voisin encastré dans son épaule droite.)
_ Et comment tu sais qu'elle est la meilleure ?
_ Elle comprend tout tout de suite, elle fait toujours tous les exercices, toujours bons...
_ Ah ? Et elle veut faire des études après ?
_ On va la marier là."
🤪
(je suis conne. Meaculpa.)
Nota: le ton méprisant du prof. Peut-être agacé par mes questions débiles. (de blanche débile.)
Mariées, promises, employées à la maison ou dans une "maison"... Sans salaire sans doute.
Car l'esclavage est partout. C'est marrant la cécité, la surdité et le mutisme des touristes. 😮 (Car il suffit de discuter un peu avec un guide, à défaut de collègue ou de copain.)
Sur les "8 photos" (à la louche) rapportées du Mali, j'en ai 2 prises de mes fenêtres : une d'un groupe de Bella installés un beau jour et pendant quelques mois et qui semblaient en suspens... "Ils n'ont pas le droit de partir" m'informe le copain. Sans expliquer. "Ils sont esclaves des ... (je ne sais plus quelle autre ethnie)." Idem de l'autre côté : un autre campement étrange...
Un copain de passage : "MouaHAHA ! La Constitution (qui interdit l'esclavage, crois-je devoir lui rappeler) c'est pour les blancs !!"
Comprenez cette phrase comme vous voudrez.
Et sinon : j'ai vu des petites filles arroser des salades sur une butte pendant des heures (je suis restée plantée là à observer, tout en observant un homme arroser aussi un potager en contrebas, en bordure du Niger. La petite fille montait une côte, vidait ses 2 calebasses, redescendait et ainsi de suite pendant des heures.
Question de blanche idiote (à un ado qui me disait adorer regarder une émission scientifique pour les jeunes sur la 5 et qui rêvait d'être ingénieur) :
_ "Pourquoi vous n'installez pas un système de transport de l'eau pour monter cette butte ? Un téléphérique à calebasses (je suis de la montagne 😏) entrainé manuellement par exemple.
_ Parce que ça donne du travail à des gens qui vivent dans des villages éloignés et qui viennent ici pour gagner de l'argent.
_ C'est vrai. Je suis bête."
(pardonpardonpardon.)
J'en ai des wagons comme ça mais je vais arrêter de faire ma blanche. 😎 (Ou l'écrivain va m'insérer dans son prochain article. 🤪)
Ce que j'ai vu aussi ce sont des réunions de femmes venues de villages proches et éloignés, isolés par des semaines d'inondation annuelle régionale. Elles témoignaient de leur expérience d'émancipation et c'était pas piqué des vers.
J'ai assisté à l'une de ces assemblées générales annuelles en compagnie d'une prof de français en retraite invitée comme membre d'une Ong française...
Je l'entends subitement chuchoter :
_ "Ces femmes pourraient bien venir enseigner aux Françaises comment s'émanciper."
_ C'est exactement ce que j'étais en train de penser."
Nota : résultat du travail d'une ong américaine.
Je précise que je suis partie dégoûtée des Ong. Tellement écoeurée que j'ai souvent posé la question à des Maliens et à des étrangers européens marié(e)s avec des Maliens : "Que pensez-vous du travail des Ong ? Est-ce que vous en connaissez UNE SEULE de bien ? Dites la vérité, siouplé. "
Ils en pensaient la même chose que moi. TOUS.
(Je n'entrerai pas dans le détail).
Sauf (préalable : il existe des centaines d'Ong au Mali. Je suis même tentée d'écrire : des milliers.)
* Bon point pour UNE ong française (de Toulouse) qui a construit des centaines (m'a t-on dit) de puits. Ouche ! Bravo. (Je n'ai pas vérifié. Surtout sur les "centaines".)
* Et UNE ong américaine qui va chercher les femmes là où elles sont, jusque dans des coins reculés, pour leur apprendre à constituer des cagnottes d'entraide familiale (une sorte de mutuelle de santé, ça a l'air de bien fonctionner), créer de petites affaires notamment agricoles (complément de revenu pour la famille), et donc gérer (et donc s'alphabétiser dans le dialecte local, tandis que les Français alphabétisent en français dans les villes. Pas du tout la même démarche. Les 2 démarches ont des qualités.)
Et puis aussi montrer deux ou trois choses utiles : oui les femmes peuvent porter des souliers, par exemple. La preuve par l'américaine qui déboule un beau matin bien chaussée. Non parce que par-ci par-là, les femmes sont interdites de souliers.
(Mouaha.)
Disons que les souliers sont tabous pour les femmes. Tabou = sacré.
C'est ce qu'a dit la femme qui en témoignait et qui était fière de montrer qu'elle portait des tongs depuis quelques semaines, depuis que cette américaine était apparue en souliers dans son village, alors qu'on leur répétait depuis la nuit des temps que les souliers étaient tabous.
Un collègue de travail, un poil agacé (le prof de maths 😏) m'a rétorqué que le soulier était tout à fait autorisé, mais que les femmes le réservaient aux jours de marché, comme un accessoire du dimanche...
Quoi qu'il en soit... j'étais à cette réunion où une femme a témoigné.
Nota: là-bas, les femmes portent des bassines d'eau énormes sur la tête une bonne partie de la journée, pas toujours sur le plat, et la roche est brûlante.
Les abris ombragés sont interdits aux femmes. On n'y trouve que des hommes en train de jouer à des jeux de société, discuter le coup... (les guides occidentaux vous expliquent enthousiastes la grande sagesse de ces hommes qui construisent ces abris avec un plafond assez bas pour que personne ne puisse se redresser en colère lors de leurs réunions de Sages...) (mouaha.)
(Un architecte ou un ingénieur vous expliquerait la hauteur sous plafond plus techniquement, ça sonnerait plus réaliste mais ce serait moins ... moins..., ce serait moins touristiquement exploitable disons. 😛)
Pardon de ce développement mais je ne voulais pas suggérer que "toutes les femmes étaient émancipées."
C'est seulement que certaines s'émancipent avec une force exemplaire, et que je pensais, comme cette prof de français à côté de moi, que bien des Françaises pourraient bénéficier de leur expérience... 😄
(Parce que, mais qui le sait en dehors des experts de l'INSEE, le revenu moyen des Françaises se monte glorieusement à 53% du revenu moyen de leur concitoyens masculins. Comprendre : tous revenus confondus et non les seuls revenus du travail (salaires). Primes, bonus, revenus financiers, revenus du patrimoine, héritages aussi sans doute, etc. + salaires.)
(Pardon je ne peux pas vous renvoyer sur la page découverte il y a environ 3 ans, je ne la trouve plus. Mais je n'ai pas rêvé, j'en ai assez parlé autour de moi à l'époque, et je suis en colère depuis lorsque j'entends répéter dans les médias que les femmes ont 20 ou 27% de différences de salaire. Ca ne fait pas tout le revenu, le salaire !
Vous entendez des protestations ici sur ce fait ?
(MouAHAHA.)
Fin de la parenthèse sur l'émancipation des femmes maliennes vs françaises.) (ouf 😎)
Pardon Attila : je ne vois pas ce que vous voulez dire par "Votre message dans sa forme n'est pas un message de primo-adhérent...😇 "
Vous voulez dire que selon vous je ne viens pas de m'inscrire ? Que je suis une ancienne de VF ?
Si c'est cela, heu... Eh bien je me suis inscrite hier ou avant-hier. Je ne sais d'ailleurs déjà plus pourquoi. J'ai dû faire une recherche Google, cliquer sur un lien ... Ca ne devait pas être trop important.
Peut-être la question du "choc du retour" : ça me parle.
Et puis de fil en aiguille, en fouillant un peu dans les thématiques... Bref, les débuts quoi.
Bon, cela dit je ne vois pas trop l'intérêt de savoir si je suis une femme ou un homme, nouvelle ou pas, en quoi est-ce vraiment important ?
Quant à votre remarque suivante :
"Mais je vous laisse le bénéfice et du doute et du sexe. "
Elle me donne l'impression désagréable d'être dans un tribunal... 🙁
Le sujet traité était : "Ces fantasmes de blancs". Pas : "ces fantasmes d'hommes" ou "ces fantasmes de femmes".
Tu dis ne croire qu'à la réalité. Dans l'autre discussion la réalité était le manque d'eau, ici, la réalité c'est ce qui est écrit . Si ce qui est écrit te plaît tant mieux, si ça ne te plaît pas, tu es sans doute à même de l'exprimer autrement que par des réserves hors de propos quant au sexe où à la loyauté de la personne qui s'exprime.
Catherine
" La lucidité est la blessure la plus proche du soleil" René Char
Au départ de ce différent il y a eu ma réflexion sur le fait que c'était bien des fantasmes de mecs 😉
Lou dit être une femme , sur ce je répond en gros, qu'être une femme ne veut pas forcément dire être émancipée , comme cela n'a pas été compris je précise lourdement : une femme peut tenir des propos de mec ce qui traduit bien souvent son oppression .
Aujourd'hui, il semble bien que Lou soit une femme , mais peut importe , qui peut dire qui est qui sur un forum 🤪 .
Reste les fantasmes et là on peut s'en donner à cœur joie , délirer façon Lacan, citer Lévy Strauss , étaler sa science (ou pseudo science) parler de la vision de son voisin de palier ou du beauf du café du commerce , un forum reste un forum , ni blanc, ni noir . Alors à quand une réflexion sur :
Tu ne peux pas comprendre, tu t'appelles très banalement Catherine 😏
Moi qui m'appelles Erwan et ai 50 ans, j'ai vécu mon enfance avec ce prénom qui n'existait quasiment pas, même en Bretagne. Si elle s'appelle vraiment Lou et pas Louise, ce serait réellement exceptionnel.
Erwan
La vie est belle ! La vie est belle ! Je me tue à vous le dire disait la fleur. Et elle meurt ( J.Prévert)
Le sujet traité était : "Ces fantasmes de blancs". Pas : "ces fantasmes d'hommes" ou "ces fantasmes de femmes".
Non, le sujet était l'article et ce titre n'a pas grand chose à voir avec l'article lui même.🙂
C'est exceptionnel une femme de 55 ans qui s'appelle Lou , je suppose que c'est un diminutif de Louise ?
si les gens lisaient avec concentration ils verraient que seul le titre de ce post a été longuement discuté , que cambrousse a depuis longtemps ( ainsi que toi Erwan ! ) conclue, qu'en effet, il y avait eu une traduction pas bien adaptée ou une interprétation du journaliste pas forcément intéressante ! pourquoi donc intervenir à nouveau ?
cela dit c'est souvent ainsi quel que soit le sujet , les 3 premières pages sont à propos et ensuite ça part dans tous les sens , souvent !
Si ce qui est écrit te plaît tant mieux, si ça ne te plaît pas, tu es sans doute à même de l'exprimer autrement
Je n'ai pas jugé ce qui est écrit .
si , tu as jugé mon avis , le fait que je trouvais assez pertinente la "parenthèse" de Lou (mais justement parce qu'elle parle de "parenthèse" ) ; aussitôt la seule chose qui t'est venu à l'esprit c'est que c'était un mec ! et alors ?
le contenu de son intervention tu n'en parles jamais ?
Comme ça je fais semblant de rester dans le sujet alors que ce qui m'intéresse, c'est cette histoire de prénom.
non , tu te trompes , cette histoire de prénom n'a d'importance que pour certaines ici , pas pour moi justement ce que je voulais dire c'est que le sujet avait été traité en détails et bien traité par différents intervenants ;
et que la parenthèse de Lou sur son expérience personnelle ne relançait pas le sujet mais qu'elle disait ce qu'elle avait vu vécu et perçu en Afrique lors de ses voyages à elle , c'est tout ! 🙂
Comme ça je fais semblant de rester dans le sujet alors que ce qui m'intéresse, c'est cette histoire de prénom.
😛
Mon arrière grand-mère s’appelait Louise mais pour tout le monde elle était Lou ou même "la petite Lou". Et ma petite voisine qui vient de passer son BEPC se prénomme aussi Louise et elle aussi est Lou pour tout le monde...Je ne vois pas très bien quel est ce capillotratage au sujet d'un prénom qui peut parfaitement comme c'est d'usage sur le net être un pseudo.
Catherine
" La lucidité est la blessure la plus proche du soleil" René Char
Bou..bou....Bou ... au loup ...... j'avais qu'à vérifier, tant pis pour moi , merci pour la précision Erwan , mais le pseudo de Lou était quand même entré dans le langage courant depuis ...si longtemps .
Mon arrière grand-mère s’appelait Louise mais pour tout le monde elle était Lou ou même "la petite Lou". Et ma petite voisine qui vient de passer son BEPC se prénomme aussi Louise et elle aussi est Lou pour tout le monde...Je ne vois pas très bien quel est ce capillotratage au sujet d'un prénom qui peut parfaitement comme c'est d'usage sur le net être un pseudo.
Le pseudo c'est Allonsvoir, je me posais la question du prénom affiché dans le profil, je posais la question à Lou, j'aurais sans doute mieux fait de la poser en MP.🤪
Bou..bou....Bou ... au loup ...... j'avais qu'à vérifier, tant pis pour moi , merci pour la précision Erwan , mais le pseudo de Lou était quand même entré dans le langage courant depuis ...si longtemps .
Mais non justement : en France c'est très récent !
Décidément, vous faites preuve d'un manque de curiosité calamiteux, mais je vais avoir ma réponse de toutes façons.😏
Erwan
La vie est belle ! La vie est belle ! Je me tue à vous le dire disait la fleur. Et elle meurt ( J.Prévert)
Moi j'aime bien ce titre (sinon je n'aurais pas cliqué) et je me doutais bien de ce qu'il traitait. L'article correspond à ce à quoi je m'attendais.
Lou est un diminutif en effet, de Lilou.
Lui-même un diminutif...
Mon neveu a le même diminutif : Lilou (voleur !), il s'appelle Emmanuel ("Dieu est avec nous").
Je ne m'appelle ni Emmanelle ni Louise !
(Quant à Louise : ce prénom signifie glorieux, illustre, et combattante. Pas mal. Et il revient en force en ce moment 😏 )
Une femme Peuhl m'avait rebaptisée (prénom) Beldohoré (diminutif Welloré).
Un homme bambara m'avait rebaptisée (patronyme) Traoré. (ce qui faisait de moi "son esclave" m'avait-il prévenue 🤪)
Beldohoré (Welloré) Traoré : une mixture impossible pour un vrai Malien mais les blancs sont couramment affublés de mixtures impossibles.
J'aime beaucoup la mixture dont j'ai été affublée au Mali. 😎
Egalement le nom et le prénom dont m'avaient rebaptisée les Chinois : Guo BeiLian (Grand/Lotus en bouton éternel) 😎
Tous les noms racontent des histoires, ce sont des véhicules... 😉
Avec Lilou c'eût été encore plus extraordinaire, va pour Liliane alors...
J'arrête là le hors sujet...quoique, je ne suis pas si sûr d'être hors sujet , tu as si allègrement centré le sujet sur toi même et tes propres expériences, donc...😉
Tu devrais nous écrire un carnet sur ton expérience africaine.
Erwan
La vie est belle ! La vie est belle ! Je me tue à vous le dire disait la fleur. Et elle meurt ( J.Prévert)
Je veux bien Liliane : il signifie "pure comme le lys" 😎 et il est très courant en Martinique.
(je suis donc peut-être noire ? HAHAAAA ! ) 😏
Oui vous avez raison Attila : la seule chose que je puisse évoquer ou raconter et dont je sache un peu parler, ce sont mes expériences. Il me semble que c'est l'objet de ce site (ou j'ai mal compris ?)
(... de moi : Lou/Louise/Liliane , homme/femme ... ce n'est pas moi qui ai mis ces non-sujets sur le tapis 😉 et cela ne m'intéresse pas personnellement d'en parler, mais j'avoue que réfléchir sur les prénoms m'a fait voyager 5mn (je viens de regarder la liste des "Liliane" célèbres, elle part un peu dans tous les sens, pas mal...)
C'est aussi ce que j'attends des autres : qu'ils parlent de leurs expériences.
Vous avez quelque chose à raconter en rapport avec ces "fantasmes de blancs" ? ("blancs" au sens d'occidentaux, bien entendu, et non de "couleur de peau blanche").
Allonsvoir dit-elle,
Je suis venu, j'ai lu, suis déçu.
Certes la forme est plaisante, et ce n'est pas rien, mais le fond.
(Ah, votre transe devant une épave de pirogue, cramponnée à vos sous, vos vapeurs face aux émanations d'une veste de chasse)
Si ce n'est pas du second degré (ce que je souhaite, surtout pour vous) c'est consternant d'ethnocentrisme (au début) puis de généralisations illégitimes pour virer ultérieurement vers d'autres -ismes, vers votre isthme (sauf si c'est toujours un jeu).
Quant à considérer votre premier message comme une perle rare de cette discussion, là j'aimerais croire qu'on est dans le second degré.
Lou Doillon ? tu crois qu'elle s'appelle Louise ? ( devenu très à la mode ces derniers temps ! )
Effectivement, et ce depuis les années 80... Sauf aux States où le prénom Lou (d'origine germanique) est très répandu 🙂
C'est la faute à sa copine Thelma peut être ! 😮
@ voyajou +50 (s'il s'agit du second degré) , sinon un troll de plus ou de moins ? ou" Liliane chez les Dogons" ( j'en connais qui risquent de s'énerver grave ! 😄 )
promis cette fois je sors ! je s'en va en cromenade ! 😎
Pas d'insultes pour ces deux braves filles Thelma et Louise qui sont chères à mon cœur , ne pas les comparer à cette égocentrique , ou à ce troll ? quien sabe ?
Bonne cromenade .
Hannah
Pas d'insultes pour ces deux braves filles Thelma et Louise qui sont chères à mon cœur , ne pas les comparer à cette égocentrique , ou à ce troll ? quien sabe ?
Bonne cromenade .
Hannah
Insultes ?? en aucune manière ! 😛.... ce film est excellent , chères à mon petit cœur fragile peut être pas complètement quand même , mais dans tous les cas "en cours d'émancipation" les dames , non ? 😛 pas de digression Hannah please !! 😮
!
"cramponnée à vos sous" : je ne vois pas bien à quels sous je pouvais être cramponnée. Votre imagination est trop orientée. Et si vous la laissiez envisager d'autres possibles ?
par ailleurs je ne suis ni dans le premier ni dans le second degré : je suis dans l'imaginaire.
si vous ne comprenez pas mon trouble devant une veste de chasseur, c'est ce que vous n'avez pas bien lu ma phrase.
Je reformule : ce n'est pas la culture à laquelle pouvait référer cette veste qui me mettait dans cet état. C'est donc autre chose (et qui n'a rien à voir avec la veste elle-même, sa fonction, son usage, etc.)
J'ai employé le mot "imagination" au sujet de la poterie des femmes de Ségou : j'y voyais quelque chose d'asiatique qui me bouleversait. Mais j'ai découvert par la suite que ces objets n'avaient aucun rapport avec la céramique japonaise. C'est donc mon imagination seule qui a fait émerger l'Asie dans ces objets.
Les objets sont des véhicules. Ils surgissent devant nous et nous sommes projetés en moins d'une seconde dans une autre dimension, une dimension intérieure. Ce voyage peut constituer un choc si nous ne nous y attendons pas et encore plus s'il nous emporte très loin dans notre intériorité.
J'ai commencé en annonçant que je n'avais pas aimé l' """""Afrique""""" (traduire : le tout petit morceau d'Afrique où j'étais).
Mon imagination m'a protégée en me projetant ailleurs (en moi-même) avec les véhicules qu'elle a rencontrés et qui étaient susceptibles de me faire entrer en contact avec mon intériorité. La veste, le morceau de pirogue et les poteries matérialisaient (extériorisaient) par certains détails mes secrets les plus intimes.
Et c'est bouleversant de voir apparaitre son intimité devant soi, en lieu et place du lieu que vous êtes supposé habiter.
Une veste est un habit. Une pirogue déplace les corps. Un vase est un cercueil (au Mali) supposé reconstituer une matrice.
Les trois sont des contenants en rapport avec le corps.
Intériorité.
ps (pour ceux qui connaissent le Mali) : je ne suis pas allée à Bandiagara (je n'ai pas visité en tout cas) et le seul souvenir que j'ai du merveilleux pays dogon, c'est une inscription énorme et rouge à côté d'un abri traditionnel ombragé : "INTERDIT AUX FEMMES".
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Notre monde regorge de monnaies différentes... Et ce que ne parviens pas à saisir, c'est l'écart entre ces monnaies. Comment expliquez vous cela, en français…
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.
We’re a couple aged 58 and 63. We’ve just returned from a wonderful trip to South India in Tamil Nadu and a few days in Kerala. We traveled with a local French-speaking guide and his friend, the driver. They both live in Pondicherry. We spent 3 weeks with them in the most authentic way!
We covered just over 2,500 km and visited not only temples but also archaeological sites, museums, and small artisanal businesses making tiles, tea, sculptures, bronze, and silk spinning. We were lucky enough to visit a public school, attend a wedding, and even a death announcement in a small countryside village. We were fully immersed in the culture, food, noise, and colors—it was incredible!
The hotels and guesthouses we chose were very clean and mostly quiet. We’re returning from India with amazing discoveries!
We’re happy to share more info if you’d like!
M-Claire and Jean
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