We're off! After exploring the north, the four friends have now discovered the south.
We’re excited to share this new travel journal, dedicated to our little group and our strong friendship, written by Richard and illustrated with Kate’s photos.
I’ll chime in from time to time with practical tips.
First of all, a big thank you to everyone on VoyageForum who helped us plan this trip. It would’ve been quite different if we’d just relied on guidebooks.
The itinerary lasted just over 3 weeks: Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry, Thanjavur, the Chettinad region, Madurai, Munnar, Munroe Island, Cochin, and Chennai.
We traveled by train, taxi, and private car with a driver, took a domestic flight, and stayed in guesthouses, Airbnb apartments, and hotels.
For each of us, including flights, the total budget barely reached 2000 €, and we didn’t hold back—knowing we avoid resorts and love street food and small Indian restaurants.
Well, yes—back to India, this time in the south, and still the four of us, the same crew. *.
Nobody’s really changed since last year. There’s Nathalie, the enthusiast, always ready to “freak out in the best way”; Bruno, the laid-back one who lives in the moment without worrying too much about where he actually is; Kate, the image hunter with her trusty Nikon around her neck; and me, tasked with putting our shared experiences into words to anchor them in our memories. We’re heading back with the experience of our first trip, even though we expect a different India from the one in the north. Three weeks for a journey through Tamil Nadu and Kerala. Boarding now...
Day 1. Arrival in Mahabalipuram
First morning steps in the small town, first impressions. The 10-hour flight and late-night arrival have wiped us out—we’re feeling that classic, disorienting sense of floating a bit outside reality.
Our first instinct is to compare it to North India. It’s hotter, *much* hotter—we’re in the tropics, and the vibe is summery. We’re back in the usual Indian city chaos: the symphony of horns, the bustling life, the explosion of colors. But what strikes me most is the dark skin of the men and women. I’m fascinated by this subtly different pigmentation, though I couldn’t quite say how it differs from that of sub-Saharan Africans. We’re in Tamil country.
We’re staying at Squirrel Nest Guest House in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise. Small, brightly colored houses, narrow alleys cluttered with fishing nets. On the doorsteps, women draw geometric patterns in the shape of rosettes with a thousand varied colors. These are *, religious symbols made with rice powder. They serve as both a daily offering to the gods and a way to attract prosperity to the home and family, while also delivering a message of welcome.
The beach is just a stone’s throw away, littered with debris—it’s not exactly inviting. But that doesn’t really bother us; it’s a working beach covered in small fishing boats. We quickly feel at home in this environment, which is as lively as it is soothing.
The afternoon is dedicated to our first visits. Mahabalipuram boasts exceptional architectural heritage—the richest, in my opinion, of everything we’ll discover on our South India trip.
The *, the seaside temple just a short distance from the ocean, showcases harmonious proportions with its two small towers facing the sea. Dating back to the 8th century, most of the sculptures decorating it are quite eroded by time and the marine elements. A quick tuk-tuk ride later, we visit the *, five small temples delicately carved from a single block of granite, each dedicated to a god and accompanied by a giant animal serving as the deity’s mount. I recognize *, the bull, vehicle of *, and admire the monumental sculpture of a life-sized elephant, the mount of the goddess *.
First Indian dinner at *, a lovely spot run by a Frenchwoman on a rooftop terrace. We’re reacquainted with the sensations of * food. The first bite is always the hardest—the nose runs, sweat beads on the forehead, but then the spices have their numbing effect, and the food goes down smoothly after that.
Even in the most remote places, Indian nights are rarely silent. Dog fights, clucking hens, the crow of an insomniac rooster, and—most notably—in the dead of night, religious music blaring from loudspeakers. Waking up is a bit rough; none of us slept very well.
This morning we visit the main archaeological site of Maha, located in a very pretty park on a hillside. It’s a religious site dating back to the 7th and 8th centuries. A remarkable collection of temples carved directly from granite blocks. The rock-cut temple of Trimurti, dedicated to the three main gods of Hinduism—Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu—is absolutely stunning. As is often the case in India, the gods are smiling, and they’re not the only ones. Many Indian visitors give us warm smiles and looks, sometimes even asking for selfies with us. The atmosphere is peaceful and welcoming—it’s really lovely. Best of all, unlike the big sites in North India, there aren’t swarms of street vendors trying every trick to foist their trinkets on us.
A quick note to be thorough about the visits: there’s an immense bas-relief entirely sculpted from a single block of stone called the "Penance of Arjuna." The Lonely Planet calls it a masterpiece of ancient Indian art. I agree. From the 7th century—back home, that’s the Merovingian era, sure, they were badass in goldsmithing, but way more limited in architecture and sculpture.
Since yesterday, we’d noticed countless groups of Indian tourists, especially women, dressed in magnificent red saris or tunics. After asking a fruit vendor, we think we understand they’re pilgrims on organized religious trips run by tour operators—kind of like religious tourism circuits. We have fun following these lively, enthusiastic little groups down the main avenue leading to the sea and the Shore Temple. On both sides of the street, there’s a profusion of stalls selling trinkets, little toys, and all sorts of knick-knacks. We quickly realize all these people—these families—are heading to the beach, not to perform a ritual bath but simply to see the ocean, and some even wade in fully clothed, laughing their heads off. And as I watch this joyfully bustling crowd, I wonder if some of them might be seeing the sea for the first time.
After a good meal at a seafood restaurant by the shore, we head back to bed. Around 4 or 4:30 AM, I’m woken up again by religious music blasting through loudspeakers in the neighborhood. I don’t get it—do Indians ever sleep?
Richard said you have a Nikon. If you don't mind me asking, which lens do you use for portraits?
I have a Nikon 18-200mm lens. I only took that one to travel light.
At home, for portraits, I sometimes use my Sigma 105mm macro.
That’s all I’ve got for now! (for the moment 😉)
We’re staying at a guesthouse Squirrel Nest Guest House in the heart of the fishermen’s quarter, a village within the city, away from the traffic noise
For those of you struggling like I did to find a nice place to stay at a very reasonable price in Maha, I highly recommend this guesthouse. Simple, clean, and above all, located in an adorable neighborhood that we all fell in love with.
We really enjoyed wandering through the quiet little streets and meeting the smiling locals. It reminded us of La Pointe Courte in Sète :)
I could’ve easily stayed a few more days...
If you go to India, you won’t need to ask—Indians will beg you to photograph them or their kids 😉
I agree with this 99.99% of the time. 🙂
However, don’t forget that some photos come with a fee (super touristy spots with attractions, kind of like the snake charmers in Marrakech).
And I got a few refusals in an off-the-beaten-path region (Gujarat).
I really loved Mahabalipuram.
La rue comme gagne-pain : concours de photos amical de septembre 2026
Rubrique Jeux Voyages
C'est le moment de poster vos meilleurs clichés !
Richard said you have a Nikon. If you don't mind me asking, which lens do you use for portraits?
I have a Nikon 18-200mm lens. I only took that one to travel light.
At home, for portraits, I sometimes use my Sigma 105mm macro.
That’s all I have! (for now 😉)
Thanks Kate for the info 😊
You have an APS-C, so that makes it 24-300mm in full-frame—it’s what I had when I was using a DSLR 😄. It’s indeed a great compromise when you want to travel light 👍
I thought you had a prime lens for portraits, that’s why I asked.
"Voyager est un triple plaisir : l'attente, l'éblouissement et le souvenir." Ilka Chase
I'm heading there too—it's been way too long since I last went to TN, and there are hidden gems there. I love stopping by Mama when I arrive, and the fishermen's quarter is really nice.
Qui a l'habitude de voyager sait qu'il vient toujours un moment où il faut partir...
Paulo Coelho
We left by taxi this morning for Pondy, less than two hours from Maha. Before leaving, Nathalie and I checked out with the young man who owns the guesthouse. The conversation that followed taught us a lot about South India. I greeted my host politely with a "Namasté," which I thought would make a good impression. "No Namasté here in Tamil Nadu! Namasté is Hindi; here we speak Tamil. You say Va Na Kam." Through his words, I sensed a man proud of his identity, his language, and his roots. During the conversation, he took care to distinguish the Tamil people from the populations of North India. "Hindis are Aryans. We were the first inhabitants of India." This strong Tamil identity is something I noticed throughout our trip, not just because of the language or physical traits.
I also took the opportunity to ask him about the religious music that fills the night. Nathalie and I vaguely understood that these chants are meant to ward off evil spirits—he pronounced the word "ghost," I think. But the effort to concentrate on understanding his English left me struggling by the end of the conversation. After some research when I got back, I found an interesting piece of information about the "Brahma muhurta, the hour of Brahma," which is the second-to-last phase of the night before sunrise. It’s a time considered auspicious for meditation or worship. Maybe that’s what our host was referring to.
Hôtel de la plage, rue Romain Rolland, rue Sainte Thérèse... No doubt about it, we’re in Pondicherry... the French one? For me, Pondy—for the history teacher I used to be—was first and foremost the exam topics we had exclusively due to the school calendar. "Did you see what they got in Pondy this year? Tough for them..." My first reflex was to take a photo of the entrance to the French lycée to send to my former colleagues, with the République française plaque, Marianne, and the tricolor flag... And then all those guides, from the *Routard* to *Lonely Planet*, which, while nuanced, still sell us the image of a little piece of France in Indian soil. Pondy the French, then? Well, yes, there’s a "French" quarter—what’s called the White Town—with its colonial-style houses, a bit worn down. Yes, there’s also a strong French institutional and intellectual presence, beyond the lycée, with the Institut français, the Alliance française, and the École française d’Extrême-Orient. And of course, the street names that evoke almost incongruous feelings, like rue Saint-Louis, for example. The disorientation might seem reversed, but Pondicherry is very much an Indian city, even in the so-called French quarter, if only because of the extreme difficulty for a pedestrian to walk around peacefully.
Ah, the sidewalks of Pondy! Cluttered with rubble, roots, trash, bikes, motorcycles, and piles of random objects. The sidewalks of Pondy are used for everything... except walking. The proof is in the photos!
Day 4. A day in Pondicherry
Our accommodation in Pondicherry is gorgeous, in a quiet little street in the French quarter, at the Les Hibiscus hotel.
This morning, instead of visiting Sri Aurobindo’s Ashram, we decided to dive into the more typically Indian frenzy of the Tamil quarter, which is also partly the Christian quarter of the city. We headed to the city’s large covered market, which Nathalie had spotted on the *Routard* map. We walked along an endless avenue under a sun already beating down, trying to navigate between the sidewalk and the road.
The four of us love Indian markets, whether they’re covered or open-air. They’re what connect us best to India—the people, the atmosphere, the everyday scenes. It’s a great way in, and it’s also the aesthetic pleasure for Kate, who can capture moments of life in her camera.
We first entered the fish market. No Westerners in sight, and we had the slightly vain impression of being real backpackers, able to appreciate India far from the tourist trails. Kate was in her element with her camera, looking for the right light, the right angle, the right situation. Nathalie came out with her legendary "so good, I’m loving it," Bruno observed everything—the stalls, the products, the beauty of some of the women. The smells were strong; it smelled of fish, obviously. The crowd was indescribable, people brushing past each other without really jostling. We then moved on to the vegetable markets, then the spice markets. Colors, scents. Sure, there are beautiful markets back home too. But what makes everything exotic are the little differences. The women or men sitting to sell their goods with stalls right on the ground, and the feeling that everything is organized without any real organization.
We left the ambient hubbub a bit dazed, a bit tipsy. Time for a chai or a lassi...
Tamil Nadu and Kerala, even more so, are partly Christian lands. Between 18 and 25% depending on the state. A quick visit to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception was a must. The building is quite majestic—it’s a cathedral, so the seat of a bishopric. Christianity, Islam, Hinduism—religion often imposes itself rather than proposes, but I was still moved by the fervor of these Tamil Indians, which reminded me that Christianity isn’t just a "white" affair.
In the afternoon, we continued our exploration of Pondy by visiting the Muslim quarter. And surprise—it’s probably the most peaceful corner of the city. Beautiful, colorful houses with composite but original styles, and rather good taste, revealing a socio-economic level above the average. A very peaceful neighborhood where, twice, passersby welcomed us in impeccable French. What a strange city this Franco-Indian, Hindu-Muslim-Christian Pondicherry is.
Tonight, a little treat with a somewhat upscale restaurant in an old colonial-style house. Very good dinner, sure, but as Kate, who’s showing off a bit, says, "nothing beats street food." She’s not wrong. Tomorrow, we’re taking the train to Tanjore...
J5. Morning in Thanjavur for the Brihadeeswarar Temple visit
The train to Thanjavur is only an hour late—okay, that’s pretty standard for India. We booked an air-conditioned compartment given the long journey, nearly 4 hours after all.
We arrive as dusk falls. The taxi takes us to our guesthouse on the outskirts of the center: Tanjore Homestay. While planning our itinerary, we’d considered spending 3 nights in Thanjavur to explore and visit all the major temples in the region. But we changed our minds, wanting to spend more time in the small Chettinad region during the next leg. So just one night, with a visit to the Brihadeeswarar Temple the following morning.
After breakfast, we meet Vijay, the driver we booked for 8 days, all the way to Munroe Island in Kerala. Va Na Kam, handshakes. He’s a big guy—huge shoulders, a gentle but weary look. I notice he has some trouble walking. Thirty years on the job, his back’s wrecked, as we’ll learn later when we get to know him better. Still, Vijay turns out to be an excellent driver—calm, careful, and full of good advice.
We enter the vast temple complex. The French-speaking guide we booked never shows up—we won’t see him at all. Oh well, we’ll explore a bit randomly, following our curiosity and emotions. The overall view is stunning, magnified by the two towering gopuras of golden stone that form the entrance and open onto a large square filled with shrines. A high-pitched melody and drumming catch our attention. A ceremony is underway in front of a small pillared pavilion. Priests bustle around a curtain that seems to hide a deity’s statue. After a long while, the statue is unveiled, revealed to the devotees. It’s a moving moment—men and women press their hands together above their heads in prayer.
We approach the main temple, absolutely majestic, adorned with countless high-relief statues. The golden stone gilds the carved scenes, and the effect is breathtaking, though I imagine the entire temple was polychrome when it was built in the 11th century. Among the sculptures, I spot my favorite: Shiva as Nataraja, the cosmic dancer. This depiction of Shiva and his dance of the universe has always fascinated me.
A lovely morning inside this remarkable sanctuary, even if we’re a bit frustrated by the lack of information.
In any case, Vijay turned out to be an excellent driver—calm, careful, and full of good advice too.
Absolutely...
I can recommend his services without hesitation. Here’s his WhatsApp contact:
Vijay: +91 8903266119
The rate for 8 days was 49,000 INR. A great deal for 4 people! 😊
India and its colors—I love it. Happy to join in! 🙂
Okay, we’re taking you with us 😉
Day 5. On the road in the afternoon to Chettinad
The idea of discovering the small region of Chettinad came to Kate while planning our itinerary, as she read through Pagaljavab’s travel journals on VF. Thanks to his valuable tips, we were able to explore part of this area effectively. Thanks to him!
On the way, Vijay stops at the fort of Thirumayam in the village of Pudukkotai. This powerful 16th-century fortress overlooks the entire valley and offers a stunning view of the Chettiar countryside.
We arrive in the early afternoon at Chettinad Heritage, a resort hotel located away from the village of Mithilaipatti.
Using Pagal’s explorations as a guide, I quickly put together a discovery route for the day and a half we’ll spend in Chettinad.
Off to Namunasaduram to visit the temple known as Ellangudipatti, dedicated to the god Ayyanar. Vijay drops us at the edge of a small grove, its entrance marked by a large blue-toned gate topped with a lintel decorated with statues. Before us stretches a long alley lined on both sides with hundreds of terracotta horses—some badly worn, others brand new. The effect is striking. We walk in silence, as if watched by this motionless escort. Without knowing much about this strange army of frozen gazes, I sense the enduring nature of an ancient cult. At the end of the alley, monumental statues: an elephant, a horse, and a sort of stand where offerings are placed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a group of excited kids appears. They motion for us to take off our shoes. The conversation starts—friendly, sure, but pretty hard to follow due to our broken English and their high-pitched chatter meant to explain things. They seem really interested in us, even amused. After a round of selfies, the flock of kids scatters and disappears.
Later, I learn that the sanctuary tucked away in this sacred grove is dedicated to the god Ayyanar, a local deity deeply revered in Tamil Nadu and likely pre-Hindu. The hundreds of horses are votive offerings made by the villagers.
The evening at the hotel is quiet, though we can hear lively echoes from the village. Tomorrow, the Pongal festival begins!
Pongal, the great Tamil festival! It’s what will set the rhythm for our entire day of exploration.
Chettinad is best known for its famous palace-homes built in the 19th century by merchants who grew wealthy from long-distance trade across Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka. Upon returning home, each family wanted to showcase their social success and opulence by constructing these massive houses in a composite style, decorated with precious materials sourced from around the world: Italian marble, English steel, Burmese teak, and woodwork from northern India. But this displayed prosperity didn’t last long—with the collapse of business in the 1950s, the beautiful homes were no longer maintained, and most were abandoned. Since then, the villages of Chettinad have offered visitors a series of "Sleeping Beauty Palaces," frozen in time. However, since the early 21st century, some of these palaces have been restored and opened their doors to tourists.
We start our tour in Kanadukathan. The urban layout of these villages—long, straight avenues arranged in an orthogonal grid—is surprising compared to the usual Indian city patterns. A few beautiful, though slightly faded, facades catch our eye, but most of the houses are closed. Still, I push open the door of one of them. A woman comes toward me. "Can we visit? No, it’s closed today, Pongal."
A little disappointed, we walk around the pond facing a temple when our attention is drawn to a small group of women boiling rice while the men stand and watch. We approach. "Va na Kam! What is it? Rice, it’s Pongal."
This is the big day of this primarily Tamil festival: Thai Pongal. A semi-agricultural, semi-religious, propitiatory festival—very popular and one that seems to transcend religious differences. Pongal is first and foremost the harvest festival, where people thank god/the gods and the animals that made the abundance possible. But it’s also the name of the dish prepared for the occasion—a mix of rice, sugar, and milk that’s intentionally allowed to boil over the pot.
The women stand up and place a bit of the hot, sticky, deliciously sweet mixture in our hands. We warmly thank them for the offering.
We hit the road again toward Athangudi to visit another temple dedicated to the god Ayyanar. There are always those fascinating horses that seem to neigh inwardly. Then we visit the famous "Lakshmi House," a magnificent Chettiar home: order and beauty, luxury, calm... Another quick car ride to "Saratha Vilas" in Kothamangalam, another Chettiar home beautifully restored by a French couple of architects.
Fatigue starts to set in, though—we’re feeling a little tired. Come on, one last stop before heading back: Pavalangudi. We begin strolling through the village when a man calls out to us. "Come to see my home," then a second, who seems important, says, "My home too. It’s the oldest in the village." We’re a bit wary. Memories of North India resurface—what are they going to try to sell us?
But nothing, actually. The first just wants to show us the pretty kolam decorating his doorstep and introduces us to his family. As for the second, who seems to be bursting with impatience while waiting for his colleague to finish, he takes us to his home and invites us in. It’s a beautiful Tamil house with elegant proportions but furnished quite simply. We see everything—the living rooms, the upper floors, the kitchen, the garden. He also introduces us to his family and tells us about his son, who’s studying in the USA. His eagerness, his enthusiasm to show us his world makes us smile. But quickly, amusement gives way to respect. It’s no small thing to open your home to strangers. The mother sits us down and offers us some Pongal. "Happy Pongal!" Then his friend, who followed us, explains the different days of this great festival: Bhogi, Thai Pongal, Mattu Pongal, and finally Kaanum Pongal.
It’s time to head back. A few selfies, handshakes, and we warmly thank the family for their hospitality.
On the road back to the hotel, we’re stopped by a crowd. Vijay stops the car, and we end up walking through a group of children and adults scattered on both sides of the road. On the ground, dozens of colorful geometric patterns. It’s a kolam competition.
Tomorrow, Pongal continues. It’ll be the day of the cow...
Yes, so adorable! 😊
From the first few days, I get the feeling that the south meets your expectations better. More authenticity, way less tourism, more interactions—am I wrong? 🤔
Thanks, Richard, for the story—I’m replying to Kate, but my question is for the both of you! 😄
"Voyager est un triple plaisir : l'attente, l'éblouissement et le souvenir." Ilka Chase
From the very first days, I get the feeling that the south meets your expectations better. More authenticity, much less tourism, more interactions—am I wrong?
Hi Isabelle,
Yeah, you’re absolutely right. Fewer prestigious sites than in the North with its palace-fortresses and mausoleums. Fewer tour operators... So fewer vendors selling everything and anything, fewer self-serving solicitations, less harassment. Right off the bat, the few connections we made with people felt more natural, more genuine. That impression only grew stronger as the trip went on.
I’ll try to dig into the reasons at the end of my travel journal.
Have a great Sunday!
A treasure trove of images that extends the gaze, a sensitive, attentive finger on the shutter.
A literary pen, scholarly, drawing from memories and perhaps, this time, from a few notes jotted down on the fly.
Retracing the journey together in reverse, gliding across the page without stepping on each other’s toes. Picking an image, inserting it into the text... it will reignite the storyteller’s inspiration.
Rereading the chapter just written, digging through your memory card... happily unearthing the perfect illustration of that very moment.
All those intense hours spent side by side complement and intertwine. Far from diminishing their qualities, the talents respond to each other, elevate each other... merging here into a delightful narrative.
Friendship, encounters, gifts, exchanges... life is there, whispered, loud, colorful, tiny and vast.
Traveling together, a shared passion... going slower than alone but looking further in the same direction together? 🤪
(Huh? No, I didn’t mess up the classics!)
... but also,
Maybe that’s what love is
Sometimes we get it wrong
Sometimes we get lost
And sometimes we find each other
Richard is completely flustered! He doesn’t know what to say... Right now, he’s muttering to himself, buried in a cookbook, which is totally out of character—his culinary skills are abysmal, to say the least. 😏
I forgot to share some info about the train.
We bought an e-ticket on the 12go Asia website from France.
Nothing else to provide except our names (no phone number required).
Pondy to Thanjavur, 240 km, 2904 rupees for the four of us, in Second AC.
There’s only one train per week, on Sundays.
Kate got the idea to explore the small region of Chettinad while preparing our itinerary by reading Pagaljavab's travel journals on VF. And thanks to his valuable information, we were able to explore part of this territory effectively. Thanks to him!
I'm glad my travel journal could be useful because that's exactly why I wrote it. It's also why I still cling to the idea of writing one about my summer trip to Rajasthan someday. There have been quite a few about this region lately, so it can wait!
Your journal happily takes me back to my 2018 trip. I wrote this one almost in real-time, and members like Marien, Marco, and Ragga (I think) encouraged me to continue into Chettinad when it wasn’t originally planned. I hesitated, but I’m so glad I listened to their advice because this region is among my best Indian memories.
Like the previous one, your journal is a real pleasure to read. First, it’s extremely well-written, lively, and balanced between your experiences, encounters, and the photos that beautifully complement the story.
After your first experience in Rajasthan, you seem more confident and less naive (I’m teasing you 😛), without losing that sense of wonder and curiosity (which we’ve probably all felt at some point) to unravel India’s mysteries. You’re already "regulars," ready to explore the country from north to south and east to west.
Choosing Tamil Nadu and Kerala was surely the most logical counterpoint to continue this discovery. I can’t wait to see where your third trip to India will take you—I’m sure there will be more! Maybe you already have some ideas?
After your first experience in Rajasthan, we can tell you're more confident and less naive (just teasing 😛), without losing that sense of wonder and desire (which we've probably all felt at some point) to unravel the mysteries of India.
Thanks Pagal for your friendly post. Your analysis is spot-on. We did feel more confident, less clumsy—like it often is when you meet someone for the second time. But the desire is still just as strong. I’ll stick with the love metaphor.... 😉
This reminds me that during my second (fittingly) trip to India in 2009, an Indian man used a very evocative romantic metaphor about India. I was in Delhi at Connaught Place, and he approached me to get me into a travel agency and sell me a trip to South India. I told him I didn’t need an agency to go anywhere and that I was actually heading to Kashmir. He replied: "India is like a woman. You want to go straight to the top, but you should start from the bottom and work your way up slowly."
I thought we might not exactly share the same customs 😄
I have a soft spot for the dog photo at the start of your travel journal. Actually, I love it. Great initiative.
Still, I’m not the only one who noticed it, right?
Tricky question: did you feel less inspired for photos at the beginning of your trip (I’m thinking of all those people photographed from behind), and isn’t traveling with a group a disadvantage when it comes to the time you’d have spent taking photos alone or just the two of you?
This topic interests me: for a first trip, we would’ve chosen these provinces too, maybe to avoid doing what everyone else does, but also because we’d spotted some amazing temples.
It didn’t happen, and now you’re letting me experience it vicariously.
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
I counted 18 photos of people facing the camera 😮
Seems pretty balanced to me. Plus, it just happened that way as the travel journal unfolded...
Obviously, I’m more comfortable when I’m alone, but my travel companions were super patient. We’d agreed I’d be the "photo chief," responsible for capturing these moments. By the way, I’m going to make a printed album for each of us.
Here, a nice group shot for you (watch out for the guys hiding in the back—they’re keeping an eye on things!)
« Tout le monde s'interroge sur comment laisser une meilleure planète à nos enfants, mais on devrait plutôt penser à laisser de meilleurs enfants pour notre planète. » Clint Eastwood
But what strikes me the most is the dark skin of the men and women. And I’m fascinated by this subtly different pigmentation among Sub-Saharan Africans, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on how.
Ouch... Well, don’t go telling them they’re Black!!!
They hate being called Black and don’t consider themselves Black at all...
Especially when you see the photo just below...
There are indeed some who are much darker than in that photo, and they’re made to feel it...
And 90 to 95% of matrimonial ads mention "fair skin" in both offers and requests...
And I think, watching all these people happily bustling about, that maybe some of them had never seen the sea before.
It’s not just a maybe—it’s certain. And even now, while younger generations are starting to dip their toes in—fully clothed—many remain terrified of the sea.
However, don't forget that some photos are paid for (very touristy places with attractions, a bit like the snake charmers in Marrakech).
And I faced a few refusals in an off-the-beaten-path region (Gujarat).
I can confirm that.
Before the selfie craze, these accepted and requested photos were taken so seriously that people would stand there, arms hanging by their sides, with a closed, stern expression. No smiling, let alone laughing. Now things are changing—people strike poses—some more ridiculous than others—and in the end, it’s no more natural than before... The only ones who keep their freshness and spontaneity are the kids.
And yes, photos have become a paid service in some tourist spots... Gujarat in particular. Otherwise, they’re refused, especially among nomadic communities. But it’s not just in Gujarat...
I really loved Mahabalipuram.
Funny how tastes differ... I hated it...
But I loved Trichy, which a lot of travelers don’t like at all...
Same for Bangalore
a “Namasté” that I think will make a good impression
Ouch... just like with dark skin...
There’s strong resistance—if not outright hostility—toward anything from the North, whether it’s terms, people, customs, or even religious festivals. For example, Diwali or Holi are barely celebrated in the South, especially in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, two states with many similarities but fierce rivalries. Instead, they have their own religious—or non-religious—festivals that are completely unknown in the North. There’s also a strong boycott of Hindi. They prefer using English as a common language.
Cluttered with rubble, roots, waste, bicycles, or motorcycles, and piles of miscellaneous items. The sidewalks in Pondy are used for everything... except walking. Just look at the photos!
This is a relatively new phenomenon that only started a few years ago... It began to deteriorate after the devastating cyclone in 2016 or 2015—I can’t remember which. They wanted to take advantage of the repairs to undertake major renovation work, especially on the roads, but instead of doing it in stages, they tore everything up everywhere. Too big a project, too much corruption—long story short, it was never finished... If you look back at my old posts, you’d see a completely different side of Pondy and how much I loved it. During my last trip in 2018, I think, I was so horrified that I’ve never set foot there again.
How lucky you were! I’ve never managed to be there for Pongal, despite all my trips to that state... The perfect example of what I was saying earlier. No one in North India knows about Pongal.
Hi Marien 33,
Thanks for your posts showing the interest you have in the two-handed travel journal Kate and I are publishing.
The first thing I noticed, which aligns with your point, is the difference between these two "Indias"—the North and the South. And knowing this country has a thousand other facets.
When I mentioned skin color without taboo, it was to say I immediately saw the difference with the north, which is much lighter. Dravidian India, partly Tamil, proud of its past and origins. And attentive, as I wrote in the journal, to distinguish itself from the Indo-Europeans of the North. Of course, I’m aware of this form of skin-color discrimination in India. You only have to look at the ads on huge city billboards or the heroes in "Bollywood" films with much fairer skin.
I quickly noticed this contrast and wanted to mention it in the journal. So yes, for me, South India is darker. And "black is beautiful," especially when you pair the deep chocolate skin with the red sari of the women. But this is just an aesthetic observation.
Anyway, I’m picking up where we left off in our journal because the trip still has a lot to tell: Madurai, Munnar, the backwaters, and Kochi.
Mattu Pongal, the day of the cow. Ah, India and its cows! The perfect stereotype whenever the subcontinent comes up.
"They should just eat their cows!" That stupid phrase, still heard in the late sixties before famines disappeared and the "Green Revolution" began, I often heard it as a kid in adult conversations.
But it’s true that for us big steak eaters, this typically Indian interaction between humans and animals is still hard to grasp.
Anyway, I’m not going to do an anthropological study on the subject—just a quick reminder of the material and spiritual importance these bovines have in India, at least for Hindus. They’re there, in their familiar world, sharing the same daily space with people. Well-treated, revered. And even though I saw last year at a market in Bundi a cow that was a bit too greedy getting its ribs shaken by a guard...
Alright, enjoy your day, girls! 😉
Madurai! I was really looking forward to this stop because I’d read in the guides that the city’s temple is certainly one of the most beautiful in South India in the Dravidian style. The "Meenakshi Amman" temple.
Vijay takes us to our guesthouse, Grace Kennett Foundation, in a rather unexpected spot chosen by Kate. An orphanage inside a hospital that offers Airbnb-style accommodation.
Strange feeling. We enter the large courtyard. On the right: "admissions", on the left: "emergency". Okay, it’s a hospital. Did you mix things up, Kate?
No, not at all. We go to the reception, and the young woman on duty confirms our reservation in a building at the back of the courtyard. We settle into the small apartment—two simple but cute rooms.
Alright, we’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of us.
Photo copyright from Airbnb website
Madurai is a city with a rich past, one of the oldest in India. Vijay drops us off first in front of the Tirumalai Nayak palace. A magnificent complex in the Indo-Dravidian style, dating back, like the temple, to the 17th century. Though partly destroyed, its grandeur and proportions remind me of the great palatial residences of Rajasthan. Lots of people in the huge courtyard surrounded by colonnades, mostly Indian tourists. A family sitting on the beautiful stone steps leading to the main hall stares at us. They make friendly gestures toward Kate. A young girl approaches and asks for a selfie. Apparently, it’s Kate’s red hair that fascinates her. "You have a pretty face." Wow, what a compliment! The rest of the visit is constantly slowed down by groups of young women wanting to take photos with Kate, who ends up doing selfie after selfie. She’s the star of the day...
We leave the palace and ask Vijay to take us to the temple. From the end of an alley, we expect to see one of the four huge external gopuras towering over the area. Disappointment! All four are in the middle of restoration, covered in bamboo scaffolding. Impossible to soak in the colors or make out the countless sculptures decorating them. A bit frustrated, we walk around the four streets surrounding the temple, trying to feel the atmosphere of the place. But again, we feel let down. The vibe is certainly bustling, but the activity around it is mainly from the "temple merchants." Well, we’re not Jesus—no way we’re chasing them away.
We return to our guesthouse, a bit tired. Are we going to "miss out" on Madurai?
The next day, against all odds, turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip.
The Indian breakfast we’d ordered was barely edible—hospital food, really. We forced ourselves to eat as much as we could; no way were we wasting it. Bruno offered to take the leftovers to the local cows, the Indian way. In the street, he struck up a real bond with a young stray dog with short fur, whom he named "Snoopie." Every time we entered or left the building, Snoopie would wait for him, tail wagging, overjoyed to see him.
After a quick pat for Snoopie, we headed into town for a full tour of the temple. We’d asked Vijay to find us a French-speaking guide so we could better understand what we were seeing.
The Meenakshi Temple, an avatar of the goddess Parvati, is also dedicated to Shiva. Our guide greeted us—he spoke excellent French. The rules for entering the temple were strict: no shoes, no cameras, no phones, and we had to pass through an electronic gate.
We stepped into the vast sanctuary. Inside the large courtyard leading to the different temples, our guide gave us a quick but welcome lesson on Hinduism. Then the tour began, lasting nearly two hours. Thanks to his explanations, we could more easily feel the general atmosphere of the sanctuary—a spiritual place, a place of art and history, but also a place of life. Nothing like the churches back home, where silence is usually the rule. Here, it was a constant hum of laughter, songs, and strong displays of devotion. The vibe was warm and relaxed. There was even a canteen offering free meals to pilgrims.
A moment of intense aesthetic emotion came when we discovered the Hall of a Thousand Pillars. In the massive hall, life-sized statues of Shiva in high relief seemed to literally emerge from the granite they were carved from. The gods danced, smiled—you’d think they were alive. It was breathtaking!
We left the visit thrilled, yesterday’s disappointment forgotten.
We decided to grab a bite at Sree Sabarees, a spot we’d found in Pagal’s VF travel journal. It turned out to be a chain of popular canteen-style restaurants. The crowd was indescribable—no seats available. The owner spotted us and asked us to wait inside. We stood there in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. The waitresses bumped into us as we watched people eat. Everything moved fast—customers rotated quickly, and no one lingered. The group at our future table was more or less explicitly asked to make way. We felt a little awkward, thinking the owner was doing us a favor as Western tourists. Not at all—it was just how the place worked. Eat fast, then move on.
We sat down, and the meal was served on banana leaves. Rice was the main dish, accompanied by three small portions. I recognized a potato and cauliflower curry, probably a chutney, but I couldn’t identify the third. On the leaf, there was also a pappad (a crispy flatbread) and two small pots—one with a mild yogurt-based sauce, the other with a kind of rice pudding. The whole thing was delicious, subtly spiced. No utensils—we ate with our fingers. Kate nudged me to switch hands; I’m left-handed.
After about fifteen minutes, a group of Indians stood conspicuously in front of our table. Time for us to clear out too.
We had a meet-up at the guesthouse in the mid-afternoon to visit an orphanage: the Grace Kennett Foundation. It’s a private social institution that takes in orphans and helps facilitate their adoption.
A poised woman with a radiant gaze welcomed us and introduced herself. "My name is Nirmala, I am a social worker." She showed us into her office and asked us to leave our cameras and phones. The conversation started, and she explained how the foundation worked and the immense challenges it faced. Nathalie, who’s also a social worker, was captivated. The two women, who sometimes dealt with similar professional realities, instantly connected. Nathalie’s English improved as if she were bilingual, while the rest of us were lost. But our friend would pause now and then to translate what she was learning.
The center currently housed 22 orphans—15 girls and 7 boys. Fourteen of them had been entrusted to the foundation by young mothers, while the other 8 had been left—abandoned—at the center. Most of these children came from rural areas where economic and social poverty was still very strong. Nirmala also mentioned unwanted pregnancies resulting from rape, as well as the birth of girls still being seen as a catastrophe in some villages.
It was time to visit the nursery where the children, aged from a few months to 3 or 4 years, lived.
We entered this child’s world, which smelled of cleanliness and dirty diapers at the same time. The caregivers greeted us with smiles. The infants lay in cribs, while the older ones were in playpens. All four of us had lumps in our throats and misty eyes, but we forced ourselves to smile. A little dark-skinned boy looked at us in surprise, then started crying. What moved us the most wasn’t the sight of the children themselves, but the idea of the future that awaited them. The luckiest might get a second chance, a different life from the one they were born into. But for the less "appealing" children—those with disabilities, like the little blind girl we’d been introduced to—the future looked much harder.
The visit ended. We thanked the staff and Nirmala for their welcome. Before leaving, we decided to make a donation to the Foundation.
Nirmala
The day had been intense, filled with all kinds of emotions. Tomorrow, we leave Tamil Nadu for Kerala. And Bruno won’t forget to say goodbye to Snoopie, another street orphan, though perhaps with a slightly less precarious existence. Bruno would’ve loved to bring her with us, but Nathalie told him it wasn’t going to be possible.
It’s a mango pickle.
(If I had time, I could’ve reacted to the dozens of interesting things that have been said since yesterday, but I picked this one.)
My name is Christelle and I’m also a social worker 😊. Like Nathalie, I would’ve loved to chat with Nirmala, but meeting the kids would’ve "torn me apart," though. Still, they’re "lucky" to be in a small facility. Let’s hope their care is appropriate and they’re well supported!
Le monde est comme un miroir, si tu lui souris, il te sourit aussi!
Like Nathalie, I would have loved to chat with Nirmala, but meeting the children would have "torn me apart" though.
I can still picture myself walking through that door into a room filled with small wooden crib beds.
In those cribs, babies wriggling around. One of the assistants picked up the little girl Richard mentioned to introduce her to us. She was blind, missing some fingers. She was like a rag doll, no reactions. "This one will never be adopted," the assistant confided 🙁
That evening, the orphanage director invited us to play paddle tennis (there’s a court right next door). We said yes but ended up staying in the apartment, silent over a beer, dates, and other snacks to munch on.
The day had been too intense; we went to bed early.
9/10. Entering Kerala: Munnar and its tea plantations
The idea was to spend an extended stay to enjoy the countryside and high-altitude forests, the still-wild nature. But the rainy and cool weather put a damper on our plans. In India or anywhere else, the mountains are a pain when the weather’s bad.
Munnar is a popular hill station among Indians who come here to escape the heat and enjoy mountain walks.
Let’s get this out of the way: Munnar is really ugly, even though it’s nestled in a remarkable site crossed by a large river and surrounded by green hills. The urban center sprawled at the bottom of the valley is literally choked by heavy traffic, which generates significant air pollution. Ah, the pure mountain air! Crossing the main street is an urban feat that requires mastering Indian-style dodging techniques.
Most of the buildings look quite run-down and sprawl haphazardly across the city.
Despite everything I just said, we had some really pleasant moments in this little Kerala town. There’s something almost telluric in these Indian cities, which are rarely attractive at first glance but awaken the body and mind with a kind of stimulating vital energy. It’s exactly like Indian food—hard to swallow at the first bite but tasty and invigorating afterward. Is it just the tourist’s distorted view that finds everything new interesting? Maybe.
Our guesthouse Landy Queen is located a bit above the center, in a spot away from the noise and traffic. Ronnie, the owner, welcomes us warmly. He’s a small, smiling man with a kind expression. He’ll bend over backward to make sure our stay goes as smoothly as possible. During check-in, he tells us breakfast isn’t included, which contradicts the services listed on Booking. He seems quite bothered by this site error and offers to let us have breakfast every morning in his own home without charging us. Classy, Ronnie!
In the evening, we go for dinner at Gurubhavan, a very touristy restaurant but with an almost exclusively Indian clientele. Big room, long tables, harsh neon lights, the usual buzzing atmosphere. The staff is friendly, patient, and attentive. Unlike the other customers, we get plates and cutlery. The girls order a masala dosa, Bruno gets tandoori chicken, and I have Indian-style noodles. 1200 rupees for four, plus Bruno’s lassi. It’s really cheap and delicious.
This morning, we set off for a short 2-hour excursion to explore the tea plantations. The weather hasn’t worsened yet, and the walk is really pleasant amid this landscape shaped by human activity. We learn that tea plants are actually trees and need to be pruned to the ground to keep them from growing too tall. The guide also explains that whether it’s black, green, or white tea, it all comes from the same plant. The difference lies simply in when the leaves are picked during their maturity.
Depending on the light and the view of the cultivated hills, the shades of green change, as do the shapes of the bushes. From a distance, the whole thing sometimes looks like carpet. You want to touch it or dive in and snuggle up. I’m still surprised by the steepness of the slopes and the narrowness of the access paths. Picking tea seems like a tough, exhausting job. The part of the property we’re visiting, however, is empty of workers. According to our guide, they’re harvesting on another side of the hill.
Next, a quick visit to the tea museum with a reconstruction of a production line. In the shop, we buy some teas and incense. The prices are ridiculously low, but are we making the right choices?
Time for a tea break. While Bruno smokes his cigarette and Kate takes photos, Nathalie and I queue up at a small stall. But we know from last year that waiting in line in India is a constant battle. Sure enough, a mother and her son cut in from the side and try to push ahead of us. Nathalie gives the mother a dark look, and the mother glares back. The boy pretends not to notice. Who’s going to win? I dig deep for some anger and drop my overly polite side. "Please, follow the lane!" I say loudly. The young man apologizes, and we get to order first. We won!
In the afternoon, a fine rain starts to fall. Vijay takes us to visit a botanical garden of Ayurvedic plants. Not uninteresting, but nothing special. We head back to the center in the late afternoon to soak up the city’s energy and fill our lungs with CO2.
Tomorrow, we’re heading up to the peaks, toward Top Station.
I then dig deep and find a bit of anger, letting go of my overly polite side
Oh wow! Haha, I’m laughing 😏
Your "very well-mannered" side would usually lead to: "oh no, please, after you," "thank you so much, ma’am," "oh sir, by all means, you first..."
But where did you find that anger?
Then again, it balances out my bulldozer side!
That’s the thing with co-written travel journals: sometimes you witness a few clarifications... 😉
🎭Maybe that’s what love is... 🎭 😛
And the journal isn’t finished yet 😉
Day 11. Munnar: What to do in the rain?
When the sky is low and heavy... Rotten weather this morning—no point driving an hour to hike in the mountains. We consider leaving Munnar and canceling our third night at the hotel. But that wouldn’t be fair to Ronnie, who’s been so thoughtful toward us.
Vijay suggests visiting a dam lake half an hour’s drive from town.
The lake is nestled below the road, in a peaceful and rather charming setting. The place must be quite touristy, judging by the number of small stalls around the water. But today, aside from the monkeys, there aren’t many people—probably because of the weather. A network of paths winds through a lovely eucalyptus forest. With our hoods up, we take a short but very pleasant walk.
Before heading back to the car, we invite Vijay for a nice hot chai. In North India, we drank masala tea, but here it’s called chai, and the taste seems slightly different. They’re usually served in dabaras: two metal containers—a cup and a deep saucer. The trick is to pour the drink back and forth to cool it down.
Last afternoon in Munnar. On the agenda: shopping, visiting the church, the small market, and street photography for Kate.
The church, built in 1911, sits atop a hill overlooking the town.
Just like the mosque, by the way, and just like the Hindu temple. The power of religion is always inscribed in the landscape. I’d actually discussed religion in India with Ronnie, who’s Christian. He pointed out that in Kerala, coexistence happens without issue. “The problem is in the politic,” he concluded. We know that at the national level, the identity-driven politics of Prime Minister Modi are overtly pro-Hindu. Kerala seems to escape these religious tensions exacerbated by power.
Wandering through the crowded streets of the town, but the small market—partially covered—is away from the traffic. Kate spots an elderly woman on one of the town’s bridges, selling magnificent black hair. She takes her photo. “I’ll put it in the journal—you’ll write about it. Okay?” “Okay.”
The day comes to an end. Tomorrow, we head to the Malabar Coast on the Arabian Sea, the backwaters, and the beaches.
Time to break out the T-shirts and sunglasses again.
Before heading back to the car, we invite Vijay for a nice hot chai. In North India, we used to drink masala tea, but here they call it chai, and it seems the taste is slightly different.
Actually, it’s the opposite—people say chai in the north and masala tea in the south, even though chai or chaya are becoming more common there too.
And yes, they’re slightly different because in the north, the water, tea, spices, and milk are boiled together over high heat in a pot. In the south, the black tea steeps first in water with ground spices, and it’s often mixed with sweetened condensed milk using two carafes to make it a bit frothy, like filter coffee.
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I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed...
Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.
It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.
We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂
At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
"So, my little wanderers, back at the decks? What’s this mystery destination you’ve got in store for us at the start of the year?"
Yes, the schoolyard bell’s ringing again! We’re hitting the road... or rather, the skies! At first glance, our destination might surprise more than a few. First off, simply because I was here exactly twenty years ago, and I don’t usually like retracing my own footsteps. Secondly, because the name of this place screams mass tourism—basically the opposite of what Flo and I look for.
Despite that, in this land of backsheesh, I’d promised myself I’d come back one day to experience it my way. And since Flo told me, during our wanderer chats, that this destination straddling Africa and the Middle East was in her top 2 travel dreams, the stars aligned for this roots-style trip to quickly make it onto our pharaonic festivities program! Unless you’re totally clueless in general knowledge, you’ve probably guessed by now—we’re off to Egypt! Of course, a few classics will be on our itinerary, but above all, we want to soak up a culture that can’t be appreciated in four-star resorts or on a Nile cruise boat. And let’s be clear, these next two weeks won’t be a walk in the park—neither for our two daughters who are joining us, nor for our bodies!
And that’s clear from the get-go: after our first flight, eight hours of trying (and failing) to sleep on Milan airport’s metal seats, our second flight, landing, passport stamps, our Uber ride, and our first Cairo kilometers, we finally drop our exhaustion at the little guesthouse we booked in Giza. Doesn’t all that energy deserve a little reward?
Oh, absolutely! And here it is: a full-on slap in the face for everyone! But just look at this view from our hotel terrace? For 20 € a night for four, even with this incredible view, I figured the room must be pretty shabby, right? Nope... Is the staff rude, then? Nope... Okay, so what’s the catch? You’re gonna tell me breakfast is included too? Well, yes! Honestly, this Egypt trip is off to a great start.
And the rest of the afternoon, spent rubbing shoulders with locals, only confirmed this vibe. After digesting our pyramid view, we dove into the hustle and bustle of our neighborhood with the goal of exchanging money, eating at street stalls, and testing the hospitality of the locals. Ten out of ten!
Eight little sun breads with baba ganoush and falafel? 80 pounds, or 1.5 €. A dozen Middle Eastern pastries? Same! 80 pounds! Two hawawshis, those little pita breads stuffed with meat and spices? 10 pounds each, or about twenty cents! Not to mention all those smiles and free "welcomes" left and right!!!
What a welcome! We end this first day with a sunset over the three sisters of Giza—where we’ll obviously be gawking tomorrow...
Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe).
In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko.
I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip.
Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest.
The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days.
As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.
Transportation:
An ICOCA card is essential.
I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.
Accommodations:
Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.
Meals:
For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés.
For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen.
Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima.
Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima.
A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto.
Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi).
Tempura and gyoza.
Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal.
One omakase meal (9 different dishes).
In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef.
Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.
The Itinerary:
Day 1: Departure from Brussels
Day 2: Arrival in Osaka
Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki
Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi
Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido
Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima
Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade
Day 8: To Miyajima
Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto
Day 10: Southern Kyoto
Day 11: Northern Kyoto
Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa
Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago)
Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima)
Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto
Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko)
Day 17: To Tokyo
Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura
Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong
Day 20: Arrival in Brussels
My buddy Christian and I (Patrick) are off for 28 days in Argentina in March.
We’ve already shared several trips as a duo (Bolivia Peru, Namibia, Laos, Costa Rica).
Since we’re starting from the idea that at our age (65) we won’t be coming back here—there are just too many other corners of the world to discover—we did the "grand tour" of Argentina, with 6 domestic flights to make the most of our 28 days.
Here are our stops:
1) Departure from Brussels to Buenos Aires via Madrid
2) Arrival and first contact with Buenos Aires
3) Early morning flight to Ushuaia. Boat trip on the Beagle Channel
4) Ushuaia: hikes in Tierra del Fuego National Park
5) Ushuaia: last hike and flight to El Calafate
6) El Calafate to El Chaltén by bus. First hike
7) El Chaltén: hike
8) El Chaltén: hike
9) El Chaltén: hike and bus back to El Calafate
10) El Calafate: Perito Moreno Glacier
11) Flight to Bariloche. Car rental and surrounding areas
12) Seven Lakes Region
13) Nahuel Huapi National Park region
14) Flight to Salta. Car rental
15) To Tilcara
16) To Humahuaca
17) To Purmamarca
18) To Jujuy via the salt flats
19) To Cafayate
20) Around Cafayate
21) To Cachi
22) Back to Salta
23) Flight to Iguazu
24) Waterfalls on the Argentine side
25) Waterfalls on the Brazilian side and flight to Buenos Aires
26) Buenos Aires
27) Return flight
28) Morning arrival
Happy reading!..
Hi everyone, we're back from a DIY USA road trip we organized from July 31, 2026, to August 26, 2026.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say.
Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
If I close my eyes and think of the Sultanate of Oman, I first smell a light scent of incense, feel the warmth of a sunbeam on my skin, before sand slips through my fingers. I taste the sweetness of a date, a real candy, then the flavor of coffee with a hint of cardamom and rosewater... I hear the desert wind whistling in my ears, the distant call of a muezzin, then the murmur of water. I open my eyes to see smiles, welcoming gestures, a turquoise sea, rocks ranging from ochre to purple, deep wadis where torrents burst forth, orange dunes, white sandy beaches where tiny crabs scurry at full speed. I see incredible oases emerging between arid mountains. I see abandoned villages that I’d dream were full of life, imposing fortresses overlooking valleys, and lively souks where offers are delicate and negotiation is a mutual courtesy.
All that, and so much more.
This is what I tried to capture in my illustrated travel journal, which I’ll fill in here and there with photos.
I drew this journal “cold,” after my return (actually, I made it this summer, while our trip was last winter). It’s a pretty special format—I bought it in Japan without really knowing what I’d do with it. Well, it found its purpose! Below is a photo of this accordion-style journal: here, it’s only partially open, because when fully unfolded, it’s 5 meters long!
For drawing enthusiasts: The accordion format is both a constraint (each sheet is 9 cm x 27 cm) and a freedom (you can create a fresco). The paper is also a bit special: it doesn’t allow for fine lines, but it takes ink well (liner pen). However, everything has to be done almost in one go (with a very light pencil sketch) because it erases poorly. It absorbs too much water for coloring with markers or watercolors (unless you avoid soaking it), but it works well with oil pastels and their use with a brush and solvent. Since it’s yellowish, it allowed me to create contrasts even with white pastel.
On the right, the "welcome marker"—those dates offered everywhere as a sign of hospitality. On the left, a tribute to those stunning doors worn by time, admired all over the old quarters, including the abandoned ones.
Oman is one of the world’s largest producers of frankincense resin. Incense burners are everywhere, from the simplest clay ones to the most precious handcrafted silver ones...
Hospitality will often lead you to accept a small coffee, an "Omani coffee," very light, subtly flavored with cardamom, maybe a touch of saffron, and occasionally rosewater.
Here, I’ve depicted a man in the common everyday attire of Omanis: the dishdasha, mostly white (during the week and daytime; colors are more common in the evening or on Fridays and Saturdays). While you’ll see some men dressed in Western clothes, they’re very few. The white dishdasha is truly the shared attire of all men. The dishdasha, which has no hood, is distinguished by a small pom-pom attached to the collar, the furakha, which is soaked in perfume. And believe me, Omanis go overboard with it! "It smells like the pom-pom" is an expression that’s now part of our shared language, my husband and I.
Another must of men’s attire is the kuma, a small round head covering, usually white with brightly colored patterns. The keffiyeh is also worn (but without the cord called an agal in Arab countries), and it’s mostly worn by those with roots in the desert, from what I understood.
And what about the women, you might ask? Some are veiled, some in full black (but not a burka—more like a chador + abaya), due to the influence of Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, whereas the traditional outfit used to be a layering of very colorful dresses. Most of the women we saw wore neutral clothing, a plain veil over their hair, but with their faces uncovered. We also saw many saris and colorful veils—don’t forget that 40% of the population consists of Indian, Nepalese, and Bangladeshi immigrants, who work a lot in tourism, hospitality, restaurants, services, and construction.
Just to clarify, as a tourist, there’s no pressure to wear a veil, and never any disapproving looks. Of course, you’ll save the mini shorts, plunging necklines, bare shoulders, and midriffs for the hotel terrace—but I’d say that’s the same for men and women, and with the sun being strong, it’s better for your skin too.
Here’s the introduction! In the next post, I’ll tell you about my itinerary, and we can dive in!
The latest travel journal about Turkmenistan dates back to 2019. Here’s a quick update on this vast desert country, which is now a bit easier to visit than before.
This is my first travel journal. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. The country is slowly opening up, but it’s still possible to visit sites where you’ll be completely alone. In five days, I saw two Hongkongers, a few Germans, and a Chilean at the crater, ten Chinese people in a capital bazaar, and that’s it!
It’s possible to visit Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan. The easiest and most economical way is to take a taxi to the border from Bukhara. The trip takes a little over an hour.
Crossing the border takes quite a while because many Turkmen bring back items bought in Uzbekistan to resell in Turkmenistan. For example, diapers, baby products, or beauty products.
It took me over 2.5 hours to cross the border. To visit Turkmenistan, it’s mandatory to have a guide and go through a travel agency. British agencies often offer three-, five-, or seven-day trips for over 1,500 or 2,000 €.
But if your budget is more limited, you can contact a few Turkmen agencies directly by email, and they’ll make you an offer between 700 and 1,300 € for three to seven days. I took a five-day trip from Turkmenabat in the northeast of the country to Dashoguz in the north. The goal was to visit the main UNESCO-listed sites, including Merv, and archaeological sites like Nisa or Gonur Tepe.
Your guide will also be your driver. They’ll pick you up at the border. The formalities are very long because customs officers have to stamp multiple documents, and obtaining the visa you previously requested from your travel agency requires several checks. But the process goes relatively smoothly, even if each step takes a while.
Once on the other side, the first surprise is the brand-new highway all the way to Turkmenabat. A very long line of trucks stretches for several kilometers on the Turkmen side to cross the border into Uzbekistan. According to my guide, Turkmen trucks transport gas and cotton (though not this season, since the harvest is in September), but they mainly fill up their tanks because fuel is much cheaper in Turkmenistan. A full tank for a car costs about 3 €, which is unbeatable.
From the Farap border post, the goal is to reach the city of Mary, which is home to the UNESCO-listed site of Merv in its suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. This city is known as a foundation by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC under the name Alexandria of Margiana. Several fortresses are visible.
After more than three hours on the road, we have lunch at a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin. Several quotes from the president are visible along the highway, but the road is in good condition, and we move along easily. This will be by far the best road in the country—things will get much worse later.
Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.
After as many weeks as I have fingers on my right hand, we're hitting the road again, fully recovered from our pharaonic adventure. Back in France to drop off our daughters (sorry, girls!), this time it's just the two of us, ready to be welcomed by a new destination. They say it offers one of the richest cultural heritages in the world for those willing to put in the effort. It's the land of the ancient Silk Road, where we'll follow a journey steeped in history and discoveries straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*. A former Soviet bloc region independent only since 1991, we'll be walking in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo...
Another fun fact about this country: it's strictly forbidden to import porn on your phone. True story. The same goes for painkillers! Unless it's about sodomy—though the two don’t seem connected, that’s just how it is. Don’t ask me why! Anyway, I’m getting off track. Here’s the big question: Where do you think we’ve just landed?... To give you a hint, the locals are known for being incredibly welcoming. No sooner said than done—our first taxi driver, proud to transport French travelers, refused to let us pay for the ride. Great vibes for these two weeks ahead. So, any guesses?
Uzbekistan!!!
"How about a Christmas market this year, huh? A little romantic weekend getaway...
- Yes! That’d be cool! Strasbourg? Colmar?
- Feels a bit déjà vu, doesn’t it? Plus, slim chance of snow there... And I’d love something a bit more exotic with a touch of originality..."
"Okay, Google, give me the list of the five most beautiful Christmas markets in Europe.
- In fifth place, the Christmas market in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania.
- Save your breath! Lithuania, here we come!"
We wanted cold, and cold is exactly what we got the moment we set foot in this new, unknown land. As for landscapes, forests and lakes stretch as far as the eye can see across this vast plain, its vegetation scorched by the frost of a winter that’s clearly already well underway here.
Lakes, in fact, set the scene for our first visit to Trakai Castle, whose brick-red towers and walls rise proudly against the azure sky of our first day. Lakes, because this castle was built on an island and is only accessible on foot via a series of walkways spanning half-frozen lake offshoots. I couldn’t have picked a better spot to build my castle! Translation: We’re totally sold! Proof is we spend two hours hiking around the area, alternating between forests, reeds, and cozy houses tastefully decorated for Christmas.
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
Here we go!!!
I left home at 4 AM on October 31st and headed to Barcelona. Driving through Barcelona on the ring road stresses me out a bit, but at 6 AM the traffic is smooth, and I arrive at the airport without any issues. I call the valet, who quickly comes to pick up my car. He takes photos of it from all angles before letting me go.
Baggage check-in hasn’t started yet, and there are already several of us waiting.
Once free, everything happens very quickly. The flight to Abu Dhabi is on time and goes smoothly. I’ve never had any problems with this airline, which I’ve been using for several years.
The flight to Bangkok arrives at 7 AM as scheduled. This is my first time in Thailand and Bangkok. I’m used to traveling in India, and I notice that everything here is well organized—the customs process is quick, and the luggage is already on the carousel.
I booked a taxi on Booking. All I have to do is find the right exit and door based on the agency’s instructions. A large sign with the names of people who booked is posted on a wall. A hostess greets me and calls the taxi, which arrives 5 minutes later. I booked one night at the Lost Inn BKK hotel in the Phra Nakhon district, and we arrive at 9 AM. The welcome isn’t warm, and I have to wait until noon, sitting on a chair, before I can check into my room. I’m exhausted, and sleeping sitting up isn’t ideal. Noon finally arrives—the room is small but clean, which is fine for one night. I quickly take a shower to wake up because I plan to spend the afternoon visiting the Grand Palace. First, I need to exchange some money, and the banks are all close together on the same street, which is very convenient. When I enter one, a hostess gives me a ticket and invites me to sit down. There are about twenty counters, and I wait quietly until my number is called. The exchange is quick, so I can head out to find the Royal Palace. It’s actually very easy, and the walk is pleasant.
Entry to the Royal Palace (500 baht).
It’s magnificent and grand, and there are quite a few of us visiting. The sky is gray, it’s very humid, and a shower interrupts the visit. It’s a vast complex of temples and palaces. The buildings are colorful and sparkling, with a great sense of serenity (without the tourists, of course). I quietly enjoy the place and try to take photos without tourists, which isn’t easy.
Very close to the Grand Palace is Wat Pho, one of the oldest Buddhist temples in the capital.
It’s very famous for its 46-meter-long reclining Buddha statue.
Walking around the temple, you can see different representations of Buddha, all covered in gold leaf.
Inside the temple, on one side, monks recite their prayers, while the other side is reserved for tourists who come to meditate in silence.
Before returning to the hotel, I have dinner at an Indian restaurant. I go to bed early because tomorrow’s wake-up call will be very early again.
Saturday, November 2nd
Wake-up at 4 AM, departure from the hotel at 4:30 AM. The taxi I booked via Booking is waiting for me and takes me to the airport. The trip is fairly quick—he takes small roads, and at this hour, there’s no traffic.
The flight to Phnom Penh is on time. Before boarding, I realize I left my fleece jacket on the carousel, but it’s too late to go back for it.
The flight goes well, and customs is quick.
At the exit, I take a tuk-tuk to Julieka’s GH near the museum. The welcome is friendly. I won’t be able to check into my room until noon, so I take the opportunity to exchange some euros on the market street. The street is lined with restaurants, and I’ll have my first meal there.
The museum is right across the street, so I don’t waste any time visiting it.
The representations of Hindu deities are very different from those in India, and I don’t recognize them. Many beautiful Buddhas are on display.
The museum is very pleasant, and there aren’t too many people, which is a plus.
At the exit, I return to the GH, settle into my room—which is decent and clean.
The Royal Palace is 1 km away. I walk along a garden, and at the end of the street is the Tonlé Sap, but I turn right. I arrive at a large esplanade and see the buildings with tiered roofs and glazed tiles. The entrance to the palace is a little further away.
At the entrance, I notice there isn’t the same crowd as at the one in BKK.
Khmer architecture is magnificent. The complex consists of gardens, palaces, pagodas with golden roofs, and slender spires.
The Silver Pagoda houses the small Emerald Buddha, which is actually made of jade. The silver flooring is covered with carpets. Photos are not allowed.
The walls surrounding the pagoda are covered with frescoes depicting scenes from the Ramayana.
My partner and I traveled from Sunday, July 5, 2026, to Wednesday, July 22, 2026.
We spent a long time debating whether to rent a car or use public transportation. In the end, after reading so many posts about travelers getting scammed by police or rental companies—even those recommended by blogs and reviews—we decided to stick with public transport. It worked out really well. Sure, we had a little less freedom to go where we wanted, but it was way less stressful for us.
Sunday, July 5:
Arrived at Cancun Airport. Withdrew cash from the ATM in the terminal just before exiting. The ADO bus counter (they pronounce it "A-Jee-O") is right behind you when you're facing the ATM. Bus to downtown Cancun cost 145 pesos per person.
Stayed at "Rose 5," booked on Booking. The studio was super clean and perfect for one night. The owner’s instructions for accessing the place were very precise, with photos included. Check-in was self-service with a code. The ADO bus terminal isn’t far, and there are shops and restaurants nearby. We really appreciated that the AC was already on when we arrived. By the way, I’d recommend always booking places with AC—it’s *really* hot in Mexico.
Monday, July 6:
Bought a SIM card with data from a TELCEL store. My partner, who’s on Free Mobile, was able to use her regular plan. Just so you know, I found the network pretty unstable. As soon as we left the cities, neither of us—me with TELCEL or her with Free—had any signal.
Another thing to watch out for: roaming charges. I had to turn my SIM back on for less than 30 seconds to get a bank SMS code, and my phone apparently connected to the internet—resulting in an 8-euro roaming fee.
Left on an ADO bus to Chiquila for 278 pesos per person. During our trip, ADO buses were always on time, comfortable, and clean. The AC is *cranked* though, so bring something to cover up with—it gets cold. Some routes were fully booked even in the low season, so try to reserve 1 or 2 days in advance either via the app (when it works) or at the counter.
When we arrived at the ADO terminal in Chiquila, the ferry company counters were right next to it. Ferries leave every 30 minutes, alternating between companies, so no need to book ahead. Just take whichever one is leaving next (330 pesos per person).
When we got to Holbox (pronounced "Hol-bosh"), we’d booked a place via Booking called "Casa de Nana." It was a huge studio with a fridge, cooking plate, and utensils. The best part? The *location*. It was 100 meters from the beach and 200 meters from a Chedraui supermarket. They provided bath towels and beach towels, and the AC worked perfectly. There’s a key box so you can leave your keys inside when you go out. The only downside was that no one was there to let us in when we arrived, so we had to wait a while. The Wi-Fi was good, which was lucky because during our 4-day stay in Holbox, the phone network *never* worked. According to locals, that’s pretty common in Holbox, along with water outages.
Luckily, I’d had the good idea to download an offline map, which helped us find our way back to the place more easily. You can walk there from the dock.
The restaurant next to our place (La Barracuda) was great if you like seafood—I’d recommend their octopus dishes.
Tuesday, July 7:
We did a kayak tour in Holbox’s mangroves at 6 AM. We were looking for a sunrise kayak tour with a French-speaking guide. That’s exactly what we got with "Kayaking Holbox," where Diego, the owner, speaks English and French. He was joined by Gustavo, another guide.
We’d booked for a group tour, but we were the only ones. Diego still went ahead with it instead of canceling due to lack of participants, so we got a private tour at the group rate—really professional of him. They showed us this amazing ecosystem for over 3 hours. We saw all kinds of birds: pink flamingos, pelicans, egrets, frigatebirds... rays, a horseshoe crab, and a little crocodile that was *so* well hidden. Diego and Gustavo have a real eye for spotting animals—I could’ve passed by the crocodile 100 times and never seen it, it blended in so well. Their explanations about the flora and fauna were super interesting. We also got a little break where we tasted mangoes and bananas that taste *nothing* like the ones in France. A real treat—those little Mexican yellow mangoes! I’d definitely recommend Diego and his agency for a French-language kayak tour (1000 pesos per person).
In the evening, we walked to Punta Coco to see the bioluminescence. No need for a guided tour—if you really don’t want to walk, you can take a taxi. At Punta Coco, you have to pass the beach bar/restaurant and then go left into a kind of inlet that forms a lagoon. You have to wiggle your feet or move your hands in the water to create movement, which makes the light appear. Just don’t expect the kind of photos you’ve seen online—they’re all edited! It’s fun to see, but you won’t be dazzled by the light...
Wednesday, July 8:
Whale shark tour with "My Holbox Tours." Why recommend this agency over others for swimming with whale sharks? Simply because Valérie surrounds herself with top professionals to make your experience unforgettable. We were with Captain Fernando, who does everything to position the boat perfectly and make your swim easier. In the water, we were with Humberto, who also goes above and beyond to make sure you have an incredible time. He doesn’t just "supervise" like some guides from other companies who leave you on your own. No, Humberto reads the whale shark’s trajectory and guides you—all you have to do is follow him. He really puts in the effort, even holding your hand to guide you through this quick but intense encounter. Humberto also films the moment and will offer to show you the videos and sell them to you. His footage is really high quality.
Fernando and Humberto also prepared food for us. Special mention for their guacamole! Valérie is there to make sure everything goes smoothly on the boat and to answer your questions in French, English, or Spanish about these animals. If you choose My Holbox Tours, you can be sure you’ll get a top-notch experience.
About the tour itself: before you go, you should know that the sharks can be *really* far away. The day we went, it took 3.5 hours by boat to reach them. The boats are small, and let me tell you—on the way there, when we weren’t going with the waves, it was *rough*. Out of 9 passengers, 4 got seasick. But once you’re face-to-face with the shark, you forget all about that. Even if swimming with a whale shark isn’t exactly a walk in the park—they swim pretty fast, so you need some endurance to keep up. You’ll usually get 2 turns. Our first swim lasted a little over 4 minutes, and the second about 2 minutes because the shark was moving fast and we were still tired from the first swim. It might seem short, but when you’re swimming, it feels *long*. Either way, it’s an experience you *have* to do—but choose your company wisely. On the way back, there’s a stop at Cabo Catoche. Honestly, the snorkeling is pretty disappointing if you’ve done it elsewhere in the world. But the lunch stop at Cabo Catoche is really nice for relaxing (white sand and hammocks).
Thursday, July 9:
Short morning walk to Punta Mosquito at 6 AM. Really nice.
Ferry to Chiquila (330 pesos per person) + ADO bus to Valladolid (300 pesos per person).
In Valladolid, we booked "Casa Lucia" via Booking. The hotel is gorgeous, with a colonial style, and very close to the ADO bus terminal and downtown. It’s super quiet and clean. There’s a shared kitchen you can use with a fridge, microwave, and water dispenser, plus a big table by the pool and a nice indoor terrace. Breakfast was simple but included. The only small downsides were the tiny room and bathroom, no mirror in the room, and a noisy fan.
Friday, July 10:
Not far from the ADO bus terminal is the colectivo station for Chichen Itza. They offer a round-trip to Chichen Itza with an option to stop at Ik Kil cenote on the way back and then drop you off in Valladolid for 370 pesos per person (Ik Kil entrance included).
For the Chichen Itza visit, we’d booked a tour with a guide often mentioned in groups—his name is Juan Pat. He’s a Maya who lives near the site and speaks excellent French. He reserves spots in advance for you and queues up to be the first on-site. It cost 500 pesos per person + entrance fees. His tour lasts 2 hours and focuses mainly on the main pyramid and the ball court. He’s passionate and fascinating, even if some of his claims, as a Maya, might be a little biased. I think it’s *really* important to have a guide—otherwise, you’ll miss so much. You can contact Juan Pat on WhatsApp at +52 985 121 2381.
Afterward, we went to Ik Kil cenote (showers and life jackets mandatory, lockers available). It’s *very* crowded, but still really beautiful with its lush vegetation.
Saturday, July 11:
Since we didn’t have a car but still wanted to visit other cenotes that seemed hard to reach by public transport, we decided to book a taxi for the day. We agreed on 1200 pesos to take us to 3 different cenotes and wait for us at each one. (To find taxis, just look where they park near the ADO bus station.)
He picked us up at Zaci cenote, which we’d walked to. We got there at opening time and were the first ones there—had the place to ourselves for a while! 150 pesos per person. A pretty cenote in the city center with lush vegetation. It’s a bit like Ik Kil but without the deep cylindrical effect.
Cenote Xcanahaltun: the most beautiful cenote we visited. Entry 250 pesos per person. It’s a closed cenote with a hole that lets light in—a cave-like setting. You can kayak inside. There are little fish at the edge that nibble dead skin off your feet. Since it’s closed, the water is *freezing*!
Cenote Palomitas: entry 250 pesos per person. Another stunning closed cenote, even more enclosed than Xcanahaltun. The hole in the ceiling is smaller, so it was pretty dark when we arrived—kind of an eerie vibe. But when the staff turned on the lights, it looked like a "Gothic cathedral" full of bright stalactites.
Cenote Sac Aua: entry 290 pesos per person. The ticket includes a guided cave tour (tip-based). This cenote is really unique with its central island and way less crowded than Suytun. Just so you know, the water is *really* cold in cenotes. In these three, in July, we had the place to ourselves for a while and never saw more than 2 families at once—so peaceful!
Sunday, July 12:
ADO bus to Bacalar (536 pesos per person).
In Bacalar, we stayed via Airbnb with a host named Luli, who offers several rooms with shared bathroom and kitchen.
The room is nicely decorated in a pleasant setting. It’s ideally located near the lagoon and downtown. The shared kitchen is handy. The mosquito net over the bed is useful because there are *a lot* of mosquitoes in Bacalar. Luli provides a water jug, which is really nice. The only big downside is the lack of water pressure in the shower—we had to rinse off by filling a bucket. Also, there’s no real door separating the room from the bathroom. We never met Luli in person, but she was very responsive via messages. The terrace in the middle of the vegetation is lovely.
From the ADO terminal to the place, we took a taxi for 40 pesos. Since this driver was honest about the price (we’d checked beforehand), we decided to use him every time we needed a taxi in Bacalar. Here’s his WhatsApp: +52 983 184 3585.
Monday, July 13:
We did a boat tour on the lagoon with "Bacalar Francophone Activities." Since we were just the two of us, it cost 3500 pesos. If we’d managed to be 4 people, it would’ve been 1000 pesos per person.
We had a private 4-hour tour on the lagoon with Steeve and his very comfortable boat. He’s from Quebec, so his French is perfect. During those 4 hours, Steeve showed us the lagoon’s iconic spots *and* places other boats don’t go. He told us about the lagoon’s history and gave great tips on where to go and where to eat. As a little bonus, he gave us a video taken with his drone during our swimming break.
Tuesday, July 14:
We went to Los Rapidos by taxi (400 pesos round trip) and entry was 225 pesos per person. It’s *very* touristy but really beautiful. You can eat there (expensive), relax, and go down the "rapids" as many times as you want. It’s worth it if you spend a few hours there. You can’t bring in food or drinks—you leave them at the entrance and pick them up on the way out.
Wednesday, July 15:
On Wednesdays, navigation is banned on Bacalar Lagoon, so we’d planned another excursion.
Visit to Calakmul from Bacalar with ABCtours (WhatsApp +52 983 319 8359).
This agency organized a trip from Bacalar to Calakmul with a French-speaking guide. Communication beforehand via WhatsApp was smooth. Mr. Checo, the driver, and Fernando, the guide (who spoke great French), picked us up on the day. Mr. Checo drove very carefully on the long road and always made sure we were comfortable. Fernando is passionate about flora and fauna—he’s a biologist with a degree in ornithology, so he knows *everything* about animals. The slightest sound or song, and he knows what it is. He’s got an eye for spotting them, from the biggest to the smallest.
During the trip, we stopped at km 27 for a short forest walk, then went to see the two main pyramids on the site. On the way back, we stopped at the bat cave for the magical spectacle of millions of bats flying out at dusk. In the end, we saw or glimpsed (some briefly) spider monkeys, howler monkeys, a toucan, 2 tapirs, turkeys, 2 deer, and lots of birds. If, like us, you’re more into flora and fauna than archaeology, I’d *highly* recommend this agency and tour with Fernando.
It’s not cheap, but the road between Bacalar and the site is *long* (3.5 hours). Price: 3900 pesos per person for 2 (3500 for 3, 3200 for 4).
Thursday, July 16:
ADO bus to Playa del Carmen (614 pesos per person).
In Playa del Carmen, we stayed in an Airbnb. The building is on the town hall square, next to the casino.
The best thing about this place is the *location*—super close to Fifth Avenue (La Quinta). The kitchen is pretty basic, but the fridge works well. There are supermarkets nearby. The rooftop pool is really nice. The two big downsides, though, are the soundproofing (you can *hear* the neighbor’s alarm and all the events on the square) and the *total* lack of water pressure in the shower. We had to fill a trash can with water to pour over ourselves. When we told the owner, he said it wasn’t normal and someone would come fix it, but we never heard back. Based on previous reviews, this seems to be a known issue that never gets resolved.
Playa del Carmen is *very* touristy on Fifth Avenue, but in a fun, musical vibe—we never felt unsafe. There are *tons* of little souvenir shops for tourists on this street. There’s a beautiful monumental sculpture on the beach (the two figures meeting in the air), next to which you can see the Voladores show (men climbing a pole, tying themselves with ropes, and descending headfirst while "flying" around the pole). The show is tip-based and happens several times a day. In our opinion, Calle 38 is prettier than Fifth Avenue—it’s lush, green, and quieter, with the sea at the end. Great for an early evening stroll. We had really good meals at great prices at "El Tio Noy" tacos, just a few meters from Fifth Avenue in a side street.
For souvenirs, we’d recommend going to Walmart instead of Fifth Avenue—you’ll find skulls, tequila, mezcal, keychains, mugs, glasses... at good, fixed prices.
Friday, July 17:
We did the excursion to Isla Contoy. Isla Contoy is an uninhabited, highly protected island. Only 200 people are allowed to land per day on a rotating basis, so only a few companies have permission to dock there. Most agencies subcontract the day to a third-party company.
We booked through VRM (Viviendo Riviera Maya), but it was Ocean Tours Mexico that handled the tour. Contoy is a little paradise. We were accompanied by multilingual guides, including French speakers, throughout the day. Steffy gave us info about the island during a short walk on the marked trails, and Leño Tlatemoa kept the mood up on the boat rides with music and dancing. Isla Contoy is *truly* stunning, and the lunch was delicious: grilled fish and chicken, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, fruit, drinks (everything is brought and taken back by the guides). The snorkeling part was pretty disappointing if you’ve done it in Cozumel, though. The stop at Isla Mujeres isn’t very interesting either—it’s too short to explore, and the island is *extremely* touristy. Still, the excursion was very well organized, and we had a great day (2970 pesos per person).
Saturday, July 18:
We wanted to go snorkeling in Cozumel but thought the prices from French-speaking agencies were too high. Plus, for snorkeling, we figured we didn’t *need* a French-speaking guide.
So we found a much cheaper solution by taking the ferry from Playa del Carmen ourselves and choosing an agency in Playa. The round-trip ferry cost 663.50 pesos per person. Then we took a taxi to the snorkeling boat (100 pesos). The agency we chose is called Mystic Snorkel—they don’t have a physical office. The tour cost 1400 pesos per person. It was a small boat, but that day we were the only ones, so we got a private tour at the group rate. We stopped at 4 different sites, all very different and beautiful. We saw all kinds of fish, corals, a nurse shark, and turtles. El Cielo, with its huge starfish, is *exceptional*. If you’re going snorkeling in the Yucatan Peninsula, this is *the* tour to do—the other sites are pretty "poor" in comparison.
Sunday, July 19:
Morning dive with Triton Diving. I chose the Cozumel dive option. Great experience.
Booking via WhatsApp was easy. On the day of the dive, Selene, who speaks French, was our guide. She’s *very* attentive to the group’s safety. The briefings are clear and precise. In Cozumel, we did 2 very different sites: the first was a drift dive with lots of life—beautiful corals and fish. The second was a wreck, the C53, a 56-meter boat you can enter. Not much marine life, but a beautiful wreck intentionally sunk for divers—still in great condition. An unforgettable moment. Selene even took videos during the dive, which the club sends you for free afterward. I’d *highly* recommend this club.
Just so you know, in Playa del Carmen, the beaches were full of sargassum during our stay, despite barriers and daily cleanup. Locals told us the problem is getting worse and the sargassum is arriving earlier in the season. Tourism has taken a *big* hit this summer, and they’re wondering if tourism can even survive the sargassum season anymore. A lot of tourists are heading to the islands—Isla Mujeres and Cozumel—to enjoy the beaches, as the west side of those islands is sargassum-free.
Monday, July 20:
Colectivo to Puerto Morelos. First, a colectivo toward Cancun that drops you off between Puerto Morelos town and Puerto Morelos beach (40 pesos per person), then another from that junction to the beach (10 pesos per person).
In Puerto Morelos, we’d booked a room via Airbnb at "Piedra del Caribe." *Best* place we stayed in Mexico. It’s an aparthotel. Our room was ready before check-in, so they let us in early. The place matched the description—spacious, with a comfortable king-size bed. The shower had *great* pressure, which isn’t a given in Mexico. The staff was super friendly and welcoming. They let us use the pool, restrooms, and rooftop shower after check-out while we waited for our ride to Cancun Airport. They even kept our luggage. I *highly* recommend this place.
In Puerto Morelos, there was *way* less sargassum than in Playa del Carmen—it was actually swimmable.
We did the snorkeling tour with the fishermen’s cooperative for 450 pesos per person for 2 hours. The reef is close to the beach (you’re not allowed to swim there), so the boat ride is short. It’s not as pretty as Cozumel, but it’s nice and affordable. On Puerto Morelos’s page, you can also access a small, not-very-well-preserved reef. There’s also a cenote in the sea where fresh water mixes with saltwater—the water is murky there. We had a great dinner and excellent cocktails at "La Choza del Puerto."
Tuesday, July 21:
Wandered around Puerto Morelos (check out the church and read everything—it’s entertaining!), relaxed by the hotel pool, and left for Cancun Airport by taxi (400 pesos) booked via InDrive to head back to France.
Our highlights:
- Holbox
- The whale shark tour
- The cenotes
- The local flora and fauna (so present!)
- Isla Contoy
- Cabo Catoche (except for the snorkeling)
What we liked least:
- The bioluminescence (barely visible despite good conditions)
- The food—we found it not very diverse in taquerias
- The constant tipping
- The lack of water pressure in showers (fixed, wall-mounted, no hose or showerhead)
Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions while it’s still fresh in our minds.
Traveling with just one spare pair of underwear, considering a hot shower a miracle, never staying in the same place too long by sleeping wherever night catches us, taking whatever local, improbable, and rickety transport we can find—this is the DNA of us wanderers. Except this time, the script for our movie is going to be a whole different genre. On paper, the destination doesn’t exactly scream epic adventure: Réunion! And what’s more... we won’t be two, or four, or even ten. We’ll be a solid thirty. All from the same family. Yes, thirty. At this point, it’s not just a trip—it’s a summer camp on the move! Why inflict this on such a peaceful island? Because my brother decided to get married there with his lovely bride. A great idea, you might say... especially when it involves relocating the equivalent of a small Ardennes village 10,000 kilometers from home for three weeks! So who’s stepping up to be the guide and wave the little flag?
So, for an exceptional trip, exceptional stories! Don’t worry, the debates at the supermarket over whether to choose plain chips or roast chicken chips, the beach picnics washed down with ti’ punch, and other rougail sausages to digest by the pool will only make it into the family archives. Here, I’ll stick to the tales of our beautiful escapes, the ones where we explore the wild corners of this little volcanic rock planted in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So where exactly are we headed?
For the first week—the subject of this first installment—we’re taking it easy. We’ll start by rediscovering the coastline, from the Souffleur in Saint-Leu to the Hermitage lagoon, before a little trip to the Cirque de Cilaos and its legendary road with 400 turns, just to get our legs warmed up.
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of three years at most in Thailand, and I’m not a big expert on the country.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to piece together a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who miss it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guards for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big property, be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t really made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though, are much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been broken for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the side of the road, sometimes right on the road. When you arrive, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, which reminds visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. Seeing a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you might think it’s best not to cross paths with them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at temples on the brink of death, enduring terrible suffering. No one did anything about it. The image (and the smell) of one of them, dying and emitting the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The well-fed animal quickly became a happy, enormous beast with its own garden. Yet, it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water in them for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not a gimmick—it’s just that these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather,
A season that only exists in the southwest of America,
I remember very well what I told you that morning
A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago...
We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...
Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!
To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"
As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...
Here we go—finally, the big day has arrived! A trip the whole family (my two kids, my husband, and me) had been looking forward to for so long.
To keep it short, we left from Nice, arrived in Namibia on June 25, 2025, and left again on the 21st—four weeks later.
We used an agency for all the camping reservations, activities, and the car rental. At least that side of things was taken care of. Michaël was our contact throughout the planning and the trip itself.
We spent our first night at Londiningi BB. A bit out of the city center but very quiet. The rooms were spacious and clean, and we could eat on-site that evening. Perfect for recovering from the flight.
This travel journal is our second on VoyageForum, following last year’s where we recounted our four weeks in Vietnam.
The goal remains the same: since some members on this site share tips, experiences, and great deals that help us prepare for our trips, we do the same after returning—both to give back a little and in the hope that our experiences might be useful to others in some way.
Our route was as follows: Bangkok, Siem Reap, Krabi, Suratthani, Koh Phangan, Koh Tao, Chumphon, Bang Saphan, Prachuab Khiri Khan, Sam Roi Yod, Hua Hin, Phetchaburi, Bangkok.
Beyond rediscovering Bangkok, our objectives were the long-held dream of seeing Angkor and exploring southern Thailand, much of which isn’t overly touristy.
A quick big thank-you to Barbot, who took the time to answer several of our questions.
12/07/2013
The cheapest flight we found earlier this year was a Paris-Bangkok route with a layover in Moscow for 1440 €, total for two people.
So, this time we tried Aeroflot. Airbus A318 for the first leg, A330 for the second. Nothing particularly annoying to report—the passengers were very calm, the cabin temperature was comfortable, and we had enough legroom.
That said, the quality of the meal trays was pretty mediocre, and the flight attendants weren’t exactly comedians.
We’d like to remind everyone that it’s best to exchange as little money as possible at the airport upon arrival, since the rate is about 5% worse than at city banks.
Of course, we made sure to take the airport exit where you can catch official taxis to avoid getting scammed. So, we queued up, a little lady gave us the ticket, and off we went with the driver.
Generally, this system works well because these drivers are registered, know their duties, and the risks they face if they break the rules. Except that day, right off the bat, we got the scammer of the day. His first move was to snatch the ticket from my wife’s hands—the one you’re supposed to keep in case of a complaint. My husband saw it, but after a full day of travel, we were a bit out of it, and honestly, there was no reason to be suspicious. But once we started driving, the guy refused to turn on the meter. We insisted more and more firmly, but nothing. So, I used the famous method of opening the door and starting to step out of the car. At 40 km/h, that scares the driver more than the passenger. He finally turned on the meter, but that didn’t calm him down—quite the opposite. For the next half-hour, he ruined the ride by demanding extra fees here and there. Having dealt with several scam attempts last year in Vietnam, this wasn’t exactly new, and we were proud of ourselves for staying pretty zen. Still, this guy was a little scary—he was completely wired and aggressive. Honestly, it was hard not to think he was on something. He’d be perfect for a *Scarface* remake. When we finally arrived at the hotel, he followed us to the entrance. We paid the two tolls (25 and 45 baht), gave him the usual 100 baht extra for the ride, and stayed polite but firm. So, meter: 245 baht + 100 baht + 25 and 45 baht for tolls—we paid the exact amount, no way we were tipping this guy. He left furious, but he was already like that before picking us up... Anyway, avoid Mr. Chartree Chidchen, number 089 826 7308, car E2663!
We were so relieved to finally settle in at Feung Nakorn Balcony hotel in the temple district. 42 € per night, great reception, all the staff is friendly. The AC works fine, the bed seemed hard at first but turned out to be comfortable. The hotel is quiet, away from the nightlife, but at this time of year, many places are less crowded than in high season. Even with a nice fish pond and outdoor breakfast area, it’s a decent hotel, though we felt we could’ve found something better.
After a night on the plane, the first afternoon is always a bit of a slog. We napped for a few hours, and when we woke up—guess what—we were starving. We visited a temple across from the hotel (nothing special) and then decided to take the Chao Phraya Express, the river shuttle that serves many piers along the river. It was a really enjoyable experience. The steel gangway wobbles when you board and disembark, the boat sits low in the water, and sometimes you get splashed. During peak times, you’re packed in like sardines, but most of all, there’s that exotic urban landscape passing by, especially the temple rooftops.
At that exact moment, the boat was packed. We didn’t see a ticket booth at the pier, and we tried in vain to pay the few baht for the ride. The cashier on the boat was too busy, and another employee we called didn’t have time to help us. Oh well, we weren’t going to force the issue. Still, this mode of transport is super practical for avoiding traffic, and at the piers, the lines with station names are clearly marked, with colors matching the flags on the boats. Combined with a map like the *Routard* guide, it’s easy to navigate.
We easily made it to the restaurant *Harmonique*, located near one of these piers. It’s a unanimous favorite on this forum, and let us tell you—it’s well-deserved. What a wonderful experience that evening! We only saw the outdoor gazebo because there was no way we were dining inside. It’s not flashy, so those looking for a luxurious setting should look elsewhere.
That night, the staff was a bit slow, and we had to track them down several times to move things along. But oh, my friends—what a feast on the plate! Start with the appetizer platter for two at 250 baht, featuring four specialties, each more tempting than the last, followed by their famous crab curry for 200 baht. There’s *so much* crab in there! The dish is so delicious and rich that when you finish, you feel—how to put it—like it was almost *too* good, to the point where you’re almost put off eating for days. And also, oh yes, we *will* be back. Their satay chicken is just as amazing, and it would be a crime not to mention their generous dessert with ice cream, warm banana, and chocolate, plus their *excellent* almond milkshake.
Later, we took a taxi to Kao San Road, mainly to book a Ko Tao-Chumphon trip for 600 baht per person at the Lomprayah counter. In hindsight, we should’ve booked all three of our trips there right away.
Kao San Road is *ultra*-touristy—better for younger crowds, but it’s still worth seeing. There’s rock ‘n’ roll, hippies, and crowds everywhere.
We walked back to the hotel, and when we got a little lost near a canal, a really nice older Thai man spontaneously appeared out of the night to kindly point us in the right direction.
Finally, a real long night of sleep ahead—we cranked up the AC. Sweet, the vacation has begun!
Hi there,
I just got back from a trip to Sri Lanka from December 18th to January 1st with 2 adults and 2 kids (12 years old).
If it helps, here’s my itinerary.
We left on December 18th from Madrid with Qatar Airways. No complaints. I booked my tickets back in March for 800 € per person. (I flew from Madrid because I live near the Spanish border and was too worried about strikes in France.)
We arrived on December 19th at 4 PM (local time). Before leaving France, I’d booked a taxi through MyTransfer for 59 € to Sigiriya. A van was waiting for us at the airport exit.
A never-ending 3-hour drive to Sigiriya. We stayed at Samana Guesthouse—very simple, clean, with a pool and an excellent Sri Lankan breakfast. Shower and straight to bed.
Friday, December 20th: Beautiful weather, but very humid and hot. We visited Lion Rock (36 € for adults) and then Pidurangala.
I loved both sites—they’re a must-do in my opinion.
Spent the late afternoon by the pool.
Saturday, December 21st: Another gorgeous day. The guesthouse manager offered us a free 2-hour tuk-tuk tour. We first visited a lake, rice fields, the temple, and the Sigiriya market, plus the usual tourist trap—the botanical garden (no pressure to buy anything at the end).
Then we took a tuk-tuk to Dambulla Temple, the Golden Buddha, and the wholesale market.
Sunday, December 22nd: Still beautiful weather. I’d booked a taxi for 8 AM. We did all the long trips by taxi to save time. I’d ask for prices from 2 or 3 WhatsApp taxi agencies 2 days or the day before—super responsive, always got replies within 5 minutes. We headed to Ella (4-hour drive) for 22,000 LKR.
Arrived in the afternoon at Rest Full Homestay—a small, family-run guesthouse. Clean, cozy, and an amazing Sri Lankan breakfast.
In the afternoon, we went to Nine Arches Bridge. It was a Sunday, a Sri Lankan holiday, so it was *packed*—mostly locals and very few white tourists! Even though it was crowded, it was cool because it was all Sri Lankans. We waited an hour for the train. It’s worth seeing, but honestly, I didn’t think it was that amazing.
Then we headed to the station to check if we needed to book tickets for the train to Haputale—turns out, no.
Monday, December 23rd: Beautiful weather. We hiked Ella Rock—a gorgeous trek. The final stretch is steep but shaded, so it wasn’t as tough as I’d read. The whole hike is stunning from start to finish. We saw the train pass twice (one blue, one red) and lots of women picking tea.
After that, we did Little Adam’s Peak. It’s not hard, but it was *packed* with tourists—meh. Luckily, at the top, you can walk a bit farther (down one side and back up) to get some space to yourself.
What I *didn’t* like was the commercial vibe at the big café/restaurant with a pool at the entrance of Little Adam’s Peak. Loud music, all that money being made right next to little souvenir stands run by Sri Lankans or tea-picking women. Felt off.
Ended the day buying souvenirs at one of the few shops we found during the trip.
Tuesday, December 24th: Beautiful weather. Took the train to Haputale. We got to the station 30 minutes before the 9:30 AM train. We could’ve taken 2nd or 3rd class—I went with 2nd (160 LKR per person).
It was crowded, but we managed to get seats—first 2, then 3. Only a 1-hour ride, but I *loved* it—windows and doors open the whole time.
Arrived in Haputale around 11 AM, and the mist was already rolling in.
We walked to our guesthouse, The Mist Holiday Bungalow. Simple but clean, with a great view of the tea plantations. The owner’s wife is Vietnamese and used to work for French tour operators, so her French is still pretty good—helpful for us since our English is terrible. They booked us a tuk-tuk for 4:45 AM the next day (2,000 LKR) to Lipton’s Seat.
Spent the afternoon wandering around Haputale. Not much charm, but there’s a nice fruit and veggie market and a short walk through the tea plantations.
Wednesday, December 25th: Beautiful weather. The tuk-tuk was on time to take us to Lipton’s Seat. We were the first ones there—the sky was just starting to turn pink. In the end, only about ten of us watched the sunrise. The guesthouse had packed us breakfast, and we walked back down (half on the road, half through the plantations). Didn’t see any tea picking since it was Christmas, but the walk was still incredible. We took detours through villages full of kids.
After that, we visited the tea factory. The tour was really interesting, and we took the bus back down to Haputale. Such a great moment—whole families were heading to mass, dressed up and made up. All so beautiful.
At noon, we left for Udawalawe National Park. Taxi for 14,000 LKR. Stayed at River Inn Safari Cottage. *Warning*: It’s the same place as Eagle Safari Cottage. I don’t recommend it. We’d always stayed with families before, but here it was just staff—totally different vibe. The pool was nice but not very clean (water was murky). The bungalow was big and fine, but it was brand new—so new the asphalt floor wasn’t fully dry. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so we had to eat on-site. Couldn’t leave a review on Booking because they never confirmed we’d stayed, and they canceled our reservation the next day.
Thursday, December 26th: Beautiful weather. I’d booked a safari through the hotel for 5:30–10 AM for 54 USD. Honestly, yes, there are a lot of jeeps, but it was great. The kids loved it—we saw everything there was to see.
Left by taxi at 11:30 AM for Welligama (12,000 LKR).
We didn’t stay in Welligama city but at Coconut Beach, between Welligama and Midigama. *Total crush* on the guesthouse: Sky Mountain Café with View. Such a lovely family. The mom makes amazing meals at reasonable prices. The view from the hill over the sea is unreal.
Spent the afternoon walking along the beach.
Friday, December 27th: Beautiful weather. My kids are surfers. Unfortunately, there weren’t any boards their size to rent at Coconut, so we took a tuk-tuk to Welligama Bay (1,000 LKR). They surfed from 8 AM to 5 PM—rental was 5,000 LKR for the day. Meanwhile, we walked the beach and swam. Water was 29°C.
Saturday, December 28th: Beautiful weather, rain from 4 PM until midnight. Same surf day. They were so well-behaved the whole trip, so this was their reward.
Sunday, December 29th: Beautiful weather. Beach day at Coconut. *Warning*: It’s a reef break. For surfers, there are three spots (Coconut Left, Middle, and Right). The boys bodysurfed (with fins) all morning, and at 1 PM, we took the bus to Hikkaduwa.
Stayed at Hotel Universal Beach. Nothing special—right on the water, but the rooms were dark even though they were clean. The manager was super nice, but the rest was meh, and breakfast was mediocre compared to what we’d had before (2 eggs and 3 slices of toast). Plus, it was late—8 AM.
First impression of Hikkaduwa wasn’t great—way too many Russians for our taste.
Monday, December 30th: Beautiful weather. Spent the whole day exploring. Turtle Beach, then the other side of the beach (toward Galle) near the fishing port. The beach there is much wider, with scattered hotels and super quiet. It’s beautiful—I should’ve booked somewhere in that area. Ended up having a great day away from the crowds.
Tuesday, December 31st: Overcast, then beautiful, rain at 4 PM. Had to end the year (and the trip) with some surf. Rented boards for the kids (3,000 LKR per board for the day). Bad luck—the waves were on a reef break but small. Not great for them, but no big deal. They still got out of the water by 2 PM. Walked the beach (which is gorgeous), had a juice, and went for a swim. Then back to surfing in the rain at 4 PM.
Wednesday, January 1st: Left by taxi at 5 AM (18,000 LKR). Flight at 10 AM. Arrived in Madrid at 8 PM.
I could have titled my travel journal like Carmen: "Some trips are born twice." Indeed, we had considered this destination back in February 2020. However, an honest tour operator advised us against traveling at that time due to the climate. So, we gave up and opted for Guatemala instead (see "On the Mayan Lands" on this site).
So, why this title? When I was in primary school, over 65 years ago, the illustrations in my history books (Machu Picchu) and geography books (Lake Titicaca) made me dream, and those images stayed in my mind. It took until 2026 to finally make this dream come true!
We prepared our trip with Tout Pérou, a French-speaking "agency." Everything was handled via email and WhatsApp exchanges with our contact: Laurent, who was both competent, friendly, and full of good advice.
For 200 €, Tout Pérou provided us with drivers and guides whenever we wanted, helped us buy our domestic flights (cheaper when purchased in Peru), booked shuttles between airports and hotels, and got us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, as well as on the buses between Chivay and Puno and between Puno and Cusco. In short, Laurent took care of all the logistics and the Machu Picchu tickets. It was up to us to book our hotels. Tout Pérou provided a list, but we weren’t obliged to follow it. Another advantage of the package: we didn’t have to pay in advance; we paid the service providers directly day by day.
We didn’t meet Laurent in person because he was on vacation in Europe. Before his departure, he gave us a briefing, provided a summary table with the entire program, the service providers, their phone numbers, their fees, the schedules, and gave us plenty of advice (money, exchange, safety, etc.). After returning at the end of our stay, he kept checking in on us.
Lastly, we had also gathered information from Arnaud Lagadec, who runs a hotel in Cusco and offers tours of the region. He gave us a lot of useful information. Another contact: Thomas Montaigne, very friendly, who runs an agency in Arequipa (Agence Pérou Exclusif).
Day 1 – Paris to Lima
Foreword
I’ll share our trip without any pretension—I don’t have the talent of some contributors on this forum—and I’ll illustrate it with a few photos (taken with an ordinary smartphone). My comments are personal and only reflect my own views. So, please be kind! Feel free to comment on my story as you like, but let’s avoid pointless debates.
Even though we live in the south of the Paris region, true to our habits when the flight is in the morning, we chose to spend the night before our departure in a hotel near CDG and parked our car in a parking lot in Garches. This way, we avoid the stress that often comes with traveling around Paris (accidents, roadworks, traffic jams, etc.).
Check-in and border control went smoothly on that Sunday morning. Our Air France flight was uneventful. In Lima, border control took a particularly long time, and for the first time, we didn’t get an entry visa stamped in our passports.
As planned, a driver took us to the Miraflores district, where our hotel was located. We were surprised by the numerous signs about possible tsunamis, having forgotten that Peru is prone to such events and regularly experiences earthquakes. We’d see the consequences of these during our journey.
Exhausted from the early wake-up, the 13-hour flight, and the 7-hour time difference, we had dinner at the hotel before a restful night.
Note that this day was Peru’s presidential election day. As a result, we weren’t served beer—the sale of alcohol was banned that Sunday.
We did the Langtang trek (hike) from September 10th to 17th, with the first and last days being the trip from Kathmandu and back—so 6 days of actual walking. It’s a fairly well-known trek but certainly not as famous or crowded as those in the Annapurna or Everest regions, which is why we chose it.
In theory, it’s mandatory to have a guide for this trek. In reality, it seems there are ways to bypass the regulations: we met at least two people hiking without a guide—a South Korean, a New Zealander, and possibly also a couple of English women and an American couple, though we’re not sure if they had a guide.
The agency we booked with had told us it was an affordable trek for relatively older people in good shape—which is our case (I’m 72 myself). I have to say upfront that we found it quite challenging, maybe because we didn’t have good weather—it was the end of the monsoon season. To be clear, no matter your fitness level, I’d say doing this trek in the middle of the monsoon season would be suicidal.
Day 1 – Journey from Kathmandu to Syapru Besi
On Monday, September 8th, there had been violent protests in Kathmandu against the government, which had, among other things, blocked access to social media and been accused of nepotism and corruption. There were 19 deaths. The situation was very tense on the day of our departure, Wednesday the 10th. The agency warned us that public transport was very unreliable. So, we decided to take a jeep, at an additional cost of $100 ($160 minus what was already budgeted for the bus).
We left a little before 7 a.m. and it took us a good hour just to reach the outskirts of Kathmandu. Along the way, we saw several houses and vehicles set on fire by protesters.
The road to Syapru Besi is only 120 km, but it’s frankly awful. It’s always narrow, winds through endless mountains, and the shoulders range from bad to confusing to nonexistent. Several sections are just dirt tracks. We didn’t regret opting for the jeep, as we could stop several times at our convenience—if only to let Y (my Thai partner) throw up everything she had. She’d taken her usual motion sickness medication, but the constant turns, accelerations, and braking eventually made her terribly carsick.
In Nuwakot, we stopped for breakfast at a nice little restaurant, Jimbu. It was around 8:30 a.m., and we’d barely covered 60 km. The restaurant has a lovely garden overlooking the Trishuli Ganga, the river flowing down from Syapru Besi. First photo: the river in the bottom right corner, mist and clouds over the mountain on the other side.
An hour later, my second photo: the hills along the Trishuli Ganga. You can see the different crops—lush green rice paddies in the lower right and corn, already yellowed and likely harvested, in the foreground on the left. And of course, the mist and clouds through which you can glimpse the mountain on the other side of the river.
When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”
This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...
Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.
Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!
La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.
The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.
La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.
Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.
Some practical info:
- The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side.
- We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €.
- The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen.
- Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day.
- Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.
Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads.
Transport: a rented Dacia.
Accommodations: small guesthouses.
Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.
Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.
Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.
I hesitated about writing this travel journal...
This summer, we only did the classics (the 3 northern parks and Zanzibar) and let a local agency take care of everything from start to finish.
No craziness, no risks, no sleeping under the stars, no self-drive, no venturing off the beaten path, no incidents, and not even any delays in the pre-planned itinerary...
But don’t think we were disappointed!
The whole family (there were 6 of us) came back with smiles and memories of great moments spent together.
So, if you're looking for a "classic" way to discover Tanzania, this is the place to be.
Our 2-week itinerary:
- Arusha (1 night upon arrival)
- Tarangire (1 night)
- Ngorongoro (2 nights in Karatu then Irmisigiyo)
- Serengeti (3 nights in Robanda, Togoro Plains, and Seronera)
- Zanzibar Stone Town (1 night)
- Zanzibar Matemwe (3 nights)
- Zanzibar Jambiani (3 nights)
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
It’s an ancient city that breathes, a living spring.
Here, no kitschy signs like “I miss you in Fengyu,” nor mass-produced fake antiques.
The century-old houses still bear the marks of wind and rain; in the morning, you hear roosters crowing, and at dusk, smoke gently rises from the kitchens.
This city doesn’t try to please anyone—like the spring water flowing through it, it simply keeps living at its own pace.
Located in Eryuan County, in the Dali Prefecture of Yunnan, the ancient town of Fengyu is a nationally designated historical and cultural city. It’s nicknamed the “land of scholars and ink”—during the Qing Dynasty, the Fengxiang Academy produced four *jinshi* and eleven *juren* in the imperial examinations. The Bai families made studying and farming a true legacy. Even on market days, you’ll find stalls of calligraphy and paintings, while lintels and screen walls are covered with family mottos.
Fengyu was also an important stop on the ancient Tea Horse Road. It preserves the second-largest Bai architectural complex in China, just after Xizhou. The famous traveler Xu Xiake spent seven days here and compared it to the “peach blossom paradise.”
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
Preamble:
Africa was calling to me, so a year ago, with our usual travel companions, we decided to return to the continent we love so much.
Where to go?
Uganda quickly caught our attention—wildlife we’re used to seeing, plus gorillas and the shoebill we missed in Zambia.
We got in touch with Paul, who’s been mentioned several times on the forum back in September, booked our flight tickets, secured the gorilla permits, and by early October, the most important things were done.
We still had plenty of time to hold our "prep meetings" for the final itinerary.
Three days before departure, I sprained my ankle (my weak spot, as you’ll recall from our Colombia trip).
I wasn’t in great spirits, but after a year of waiting, nothing was going to stop me.
We’d see how it goes!
Off we went for our new adventures
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
It often happens that we're asked what to visit in Belgium.
And the answers usually point to Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, and Brussels—and rightly so, as these cities are well worth visiting ;).
However, Belgium, though small, isn’t just limited to these four cities.
I live in one of them (Brussels), enjoy spending time in the other three, but I’d like to highlight some lesser-known spots that could add to the trip for those who want to see a bit more or something different.
Between trips, I like exploring one or two corners of the country where I live.
Hence the idea for a travel journal of walks.
Most of the places I’ll talk about can be visited as a day trip from Brussels, whether by public transport or car.
In chronological order of the topics covered:
- The Gileppe Dam (Liège province) - message 2, page 1
- The Domaine de La Hulpe (Walloon Brabant) - message 3, page 1
- Mechelen (Antwerp province) - message 4, page 1
- The coast - message 5, page 1
- The Westhoek, from De Panne - message 6, page 1
- The Zwin, from Knokke - message 7, page 1
- Lier (between Mechelen and Antwerp) - message 8, page 1
- Mons (Hainaut) - message 9, page 1
- The Florenville region - message 12, page 1
- The East Cantons - message 13, page 1
- Dinant - message 18, page 1
- The Japanese garden in Hasselt - message 24, page 2
- Leuven - message 29, page 2
- Louvain-la-Neuve - message 32, page 2
- Ostend - message 42 (page 3) and message 166 (page 9)
- The floralies of Groot-Bijgaarden - message 43, page 3
- Halle Forest - message 44, page 3
- Pralines - message 54, page 3
- Charleroi - message 68, page 4
- Namur - message 92, page 5
- Le Bois du Cazier (Marcinelle) - message 95, page 5
- Couques and gosettes - message 96, page 5
- Liège - message 99, page 5
- Tournai - message 115, page 6
- Oudenaarde - message 121, page 7
- Meise Botanical Garden - message 124, page 7
- Tongeren - message 125, page 7
- Beersel Castle (Flemish Brabant) - message 126, page 7
- Brussels in lockdown (messages 150 and 154, page 8)
- Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital in Lessines (messages 161 and 162, page 9)
- Westende (message 167, page 9)
I’ll keep updating this list as the journal progresses...