après un changement de programme, nous sommes finalement partis sur la route des Balkans, en fourgon, avec nos enfants de 2 et 4 ans.
Voici donc le carnet (davantage de photos sur mon site...):
Voyage improvisé vers les Balkans ("montagne boisée" en turc). 7815 km en fourgon sur les routes de l'ex-Yougoslavie, à travers la Bosnie, le Monténégro, l'Albanie, la Macédoine et la Serbie. 7815 km au rythme des rencontres et des sourires. 7815 km pendant lesquels les mosquée deviennent monastères et les lacs deviennent mer. 7815 km pour tenter de comprendre les problématiques d'une guerre si proche
Récit d'un périple en liberté au travers de la montagne boisée.
Jour: 487 km Total: 487 km
Camion chargé, en route vers l’est. J’écris route vers l’est car nous souhaitons rejoindre la Turquie voire l’Arménie si la température, les finances et la contrainte temporelle nous le permettent.
C’est cependant vers l’ouest que nous nous dirigeons . Plus précisément, la Vendée. Étape incontournable dans la maisonnette familiale. Nous nous éloignons donc de notre but pour quelques jours, mais promis, l’est sera notre chemin les semaines à venir.
L’Allemagne bat le Brésil en demi-finale. Nous comptions dormir en Allemagne le 13 juillet au soir. Le 13 juillet, c’est la finale, l’Allemagne est en finale, nous ne dormirons pas en Allemagne. Nous craignons de ne pas fermer l’œil de la nuit en cas de victoire germanique. L’itinéraire est à revoir…
Jour: 482 km Total: 969 km
Traverser la France d’ouest en est est plutôt inhabituel. Bourges passée, c’est en bord de Loire, à La Charité sur Loire que nous nous posons pour la nuit. L’occasion d’une promenade le long du fleuve sauvage…
Jour: 566 km Total: 1525 km
Nous traversons les départements 18 ou 58, il faut dire, des départements que je ne connaissais pas. Dans certains villages, l’exode rurale n’est pas un mythe. Les commerçants ont baissé le rideau depuis longtemps, certaines maisons sont à l’abandon, les volets sont clos et les rues désertes.
Nous gagnons la Suisse, et, après avoir roulé toute la journée, nous sortons de l’autoroute en quête d’un parc ou d'un toboggan. Une heure de pause salvatrice puis nous trouvons une station service sur l’autoroute (seul lieu où il est autorisé de passer la nuit en camping car en dehors des campings en Suisse) pour passer la nuit.
Jour: 659 km Total: 2184 km
06h40. On frappe avec insistance sur la tôle du fourgon. Police, contrôle des passeports.
L’Allemagne est championne du monde de football.
La Suisse est traversée rapidement, puis, afin de gagner l’Allemagne, quelques kilomètres en Autriche doivent être empruntés. Le GPS nous fait passer à nouveau (cf Slovénie octobre 2013) par cette étroite passerelle interdite aux véhicules dépassant la hauteur de 2,40 m. Rebelote, c’est en warnings et au milieu de la chaussée que je la franchis, au risque de toucher les montants de l’édifice.
Pause salvatrice au Ammersee.
Sans conteste, les allemands savent faire. Il suffit de repérer au hasard un lac sur une carte, de s’y rendre et le lieu est toujours fantastique. C’est ce que nous avons fait. Un lac allemand est toujours servi avec une promenade agréable, une plage accueillante, une glace et un café.
Les enfants se sont endormis, nous traversons l’Autriche puis entrons en Slovénie.
Je gare le fourgon au bord du lac de Bled où nous avions dormi en octobre dernier.
Même place, même promenade, même lumière, même lieu formidable.
Jour: 317 km Total: 2501 km
A 9h00 du matin, nous sommes chassés par le gardien du parking qui s’évertue à vouloir me faire payer les 5 euros journaliers que coûte l’emplacement.
Les kilomètres défilent et nous réfléchissons. Financièrement et compte tenu de la distance à parcourir avec les enfants, il nous faut revoir nos plans. Nous partons donc sud-ouest, nous partons pour les Balkans. La frontière croate est passée. Nous trouvons un camping à la frontière bosniaque afin de peaufiner notre programme…
Carte en main, notre périple se dessine. Le début tout du moins. Traversée de la Bosnie-Herzégovine puis plage quelques jours au Monténégro pour les petits. La suite ? Je n’en sais rien…
Jour: 198 km Total: 2699 km
Je dilapide les derniers kunas dans quelques litres de diesel puis nous franchissons la frontière bosniaque.
La route serpente entre les collines.
Premier village, je me fais flasher. Deuxième village, j’ai encore droit à une photo. Après avoir testé le bon fonctionnement des radars bosniaques, je décide de lever le pied.
La majeure partie de la population en Bosnie est de confession musulmane. Dès la frontière passée, l’ambiance est caractéristique. Mosquées et tapis immenses qui sèchent à même le sol.
Nous arrivons à Bihac, première ville de Bosnie en venant de Croatie. Une voiture française se gare à côté de nous, ne s’acquitte pas du ticket de parking. Cinq minutes à peine se sont écoulées qu’un sabot l’immobilise. Moi qui hésitais à payer... Je change de l’argent à la banque, la vieille femme devant moi signe de son empreinte digitale.
Nous déjeunons à quatre pour 6 euros puis quelques pas dans cette cité agréable. L’appel à la prière nous rappelle qu’il est l’heure de poursuivre notre route.
Étonnant. Les traces de la guerre sont encore très visibles. De nombreuses maisons ont conservé les impacts de balles, lorsqu’elles ne sont pas encore à moitié détruites.
S’il fallait faire des statistiques, je dirais que la moitié des maisons ne sont pas achevées et pour la plupart ne le seront jamais, un quart d’entre elles sont en ruines, enfin, le dernier quart est constitué d’habitations achevées et ravalées.
Jajce est une étape intéressante à plusieurs titres. Petite ville agréable, elle abrite en son centre une cascade d’une vingtaine de mètres de hauteur, une forteresse (14ème siècle) qui la domine et des ruelles tortueuses et pavées.
Nous filons à la cascade puis posons nos roues pour la nuit à quelques kilomètres du centre, en bord de lac, sur le parking d’un hôtel. Nous nous réservons la visite plus approfondie pour le lendemain.
Jour: 173 km Total: 2872 km
Réveil tranquille, café à l’hôtel, les petits peuvent profiter des multiples structures de jeu de l’établissement.
Nous partons à l’assaut de la forteresse puis poursuivons notre périple.
Nous poursuivons sur la route de Sarajevo.
Travnik est une ville étrange, dépaysante à souhait. Un mélange d’orient et d’occident, de délabrement et de poussière.
Difficile de se garer. Enfin une place. Une belle place sous un panneau « interdiction de stationner ». Quatre hommes sont assis à une dizaine de mètres.
« Français ? »
« oui »
« vous pouvez vous garer »
Visiblement ils se chargent de surveiller le fourgon. De surcroît, ils semblent ne pas avoir d’autres obligations.
A l’image de ces quatre charmants messieurs, les rues et les cafés sont peuplés d’hommes. La présence des femmes est rare. L’atmosphère est singulière, étonnante, envoûtante, intrigante dans une certaine mesure. Géographiquement nous sommes en Europe mais l’image et le son ne semblent pas renvoyer cette réalité. A vrai dire, ce que nous voyons ne ressemble à rien que nous ne connaissions.
Deux heures se sont écoulées et les gars du parking ont disparu. Je déplace donc le fourgon.
Les enfants ne veulent pas marcher. Un peu d’ingéniosité et de compromis et la poussette simple se transforme en poussette double. Pour le moment, cela fonctionne malgré les signes de fatigue de l’engin.
Montée éprouvante (pour moi) jusqu’à la forteresse qui domine les minarets.
A notre retour, un gamin essaie par tous les moyens d’ouvrir les portes de notre véhicule. Je le chasse, il revient à la charge…
La route se poursuit et nous sommes en quête d’un lieu pour dormir. Vendeurs de CD, de DVD, de miel ou de pastèques se succèdent. La grande majorité des habitations est délabrée, détruites ou en chantier depuis plusieurs années. Les chiens sont errants en Bosnie., il y a en toujours un qui risque de passer sous mes roues. Tout cela est peu engageant pour passer la nuit.
Nous empruntons la seule autoroute bosniaque, celle qui mène à Sarajevo. L’espoir de trouver un lieu sinon accueillant, le moins hostile possible s’amenuise. Nous pénétrons dans la banlieue de Sarajevo. Poussière, chantiers, vendeurs en tous genres… Il est 19h00 passées. Une, deux, trois stations-service, un hôtel, un restaurant. Tout le monde connaît un camping à Sarajevo et tous nous indiquent une direction différente. Pas un ne parle anglais ou allemand et je ne parle toujours pas le bosniaque… Au péage, le guichetier, dans un anglais impeccable nous confirme qu’il existe un camping. Toujours tout droit.
Évidemment, pas le moindre camping à l’horizon.
Nous décidons de prendre la route de Mostar et de passer la nuit dans la première station-service se présentant. Les petits ont atteint leur LPM (limite de patience maximale). Il nous faut trouver un lieu rapidement ;
Nous suivons la signalisation qui doit nous mener vers Mostar. Je rate un panneau et voit s’éloigner la route convoitée. Je jure, je m’énerve et cherche un moyen de faire demi-tour. A la prochaine intersection, s’il faut franchir la ligne blanche ou un quelconque terre-plein, rien ne m’empêchera de parti dans le sens inverse… Rien, sauf ce panneau où est inscrit en blanc sur fond marron « CAMPING ». La flèche indique tout droit, je ravale aussitôt mes envies de bifurcations.
Il est 20h00, nous lâchons les petits sur cette immense étendue d’herbe, l’appel à la prière résonne, on peut enfin souffler.
Jour : 0 km Total : 2872 km
Le réceptionniste nous déconseille de prendre le fourgon pour visiter Sarajevo du fait des risques d’effraction.
Nous marchons donc un petit kilomètre jusqu’à la ligne de tramway n°3. Le tramway est une antiquité délabrée. Cependant il est composé de quelques wagons roulant sur des rails et comportant des sièges. Il s’agit donc bien, après investigation, d’un tramway.
La rame est vide. En trente minutes, elle se remplit progressivement frôlant l’implosion lorsque nous descendons enfin.
Nous nous promenons dans la vieille ville, le quartier ottoman. Encore une fois, l’orient est proche. Nous sommes vendredi, la grande prière va avoir lieu, les fidèles attendent l’appel du Muezzin, les odeurs de viande grillée emplissent les ruelles et leurs fumées s’échappent au dessus des toits, les effluves de narghilé nous surprennent ici et là...
Un parfum envoûtant à peine atténué par les touristes peu nombreux.
Mosquées, église, synagogue. Sarajevo, ville marquée, blessée, ville ressuscitée et ville pour tous.
Les enfants ne veulent pas marcher, la poussette souffre autant que mes biceps sur les pavés disjoints. Nous leur achetons des ballons gonflés à l’hélium pour avoir un peu de tranquillité. Dans les ruelles étroites, les passants se font percuter par cet engin roulant équipé de deux petites montgolfières. L’un des ballons s’envole, l’autre se dégonfle. La garantie internationale ne s’applique pas, d’ailleurs le vendeur a disparu…
Les bureks (chaussons à la viande) s’achètent dans la rue pour moins d’un euro. Un délice…
C’est ici que l’archiduc François Ferdinand, héritier du trône d’Autriche-Hongrie, s’est fait assassiné par un nationaliste serbe. Le 28 juin 1914, cet événement plongea l’Europe dans la première Guerre Mondiale.
Retour dans un tramway moins antique mais toujours aussi bondé. Nous sommes bloqués par une manifestation de soutien à Gaza qui, de fait, nous informe sur la situation proche-orientale.
Le frigo nous lâche.
Voilà un voyage intéressant à réaliser avec des enfants de bas âge.
Comment réagissent-ils? La route n'est pas trop longue?
Avez vous fait des randos tout de même?
Merci du partage
merci pour ton commentaire.
Les petits s'adaptent bien partout. La route, ce n'est pas un problème car le rythme est fait en fonction d'eux. Les pauses déjeuner peuvent durer 3 ou 4 heures si les lieux sont intéressants ou s'il y a des activités à faire.
Malheureusement pas de rando à proprement parlé mais des balades urbaines ou pas, des lacs...
Jour: 163 km Total : 3035 km
La route qui mène au lac de Boracko (Boracko Jezero) est très étroite, sinueuse et surplombe le vide.
Cependant la vision du plan d’eau cristalline confirme le choix du détour. Baignade et pique-nique dans un décor idyllique.
Les paysages sont superbes et nous transportent dans l’univers bucolique de « La vie est un miracle » d’Emir Kusturica.
Nous arrivons sous une chaleur de plomb à Mostar où le parking hors de prix nous servira d’abri pour la nuit.
J’aurais payé cher pour une bière bien fraîche. Finalement, l'épicerie du coin me l'offre pour moins d’un euro (le frigo est HS).
Mostar, avant d’être une destination touristique et surefaite, est une cité est l’histoire riche et tourmentée. Mostar était et reste une ville coupée en deux. Mostar est à dominante catholique et Mostar ouest musulmane. Pendant le conflit (1992-1995), le pont ottoman, symbole de la ville, est dynamité le 9 novembre 1993 par les forces croates afin d’empêcher les musulmans bosniaques de prendre le contrôle de la cité.
Le pont, classé au Patrimoine Mondial de l’Unesco a été reconstruit à l’identique avec certaines pierres d’origine en 2004.
Les touristes affluent de la côte croate peu lointaine et l’on y paie en euros. Hormis cette constatation, la ville est superbe et le pont, majestueux, concentre, à juste titre, toutes les attentions. Les vestiges des conflits sont encore visible en arrière-plan d’un centre-ville complètement rénové.
Jour: 214 km Total: 3249 km
Il fait déjà plus de 30°c dans le camion, il n’est que 8h00 du matin. La direction est celle de la Croatie, dans le but de rejoindre au plus vite le Monténégro. 7 km d’embouteillage à la frontière. Après 30 minutes d’attente, nous n’avons pas avancé d’un mètre. J’avais repéré une autre route sur la carte mais elle nous imposera un large contournement. Peu importe, il fait plus de 40°c dans le fourgon, il nous faut rouler au risque de griller sur place.
La route pour rejoindre Trebinje est superbe. Elle traverse des paysages de garrigue sous une chaleur accablante et le vacarme incessant des cigales.
Trebinje est la ville la plus méridionale de Bosnie. Il y flotte un parfum particulier. Passée la suffocation sur le parking, nous nous retrouvons sur le marché couvrant une place ombragée et couverte de cafés. Les garçons suscitent curiosité et amusement. Un marchand leur offre de abricots et nous faisons les provisions en fruits el légumes. Les tomates sont énormes et laides mais quel goût !
La vieille ville n’a rien d’exceptionnel mais encore une fois, elle dégage une douceur et une tranquillité appréciable.
Nous nous installons et commandons des bureks. Le patron nous en sert une quantité astronomique pour une somme dérisoire.
Jeiko, bosniaque ayant vécu en France nous interpelle et entame la discussion. Il s’interroge sur notre présence ici. « Comment et pourquoi vous retrouvez-vous là ? ». Visiblement, les touristes ne sont pas légion à Trebinje, il faut dire qu’excepté à Mostar et dans une moindre mesure à Sarajevo, nous n’en avons pas rencontré en Bosnie.
Nous quittons la ville en appréhendant la frontière croate. D’autant plus qu’il nous faut entrer en Croatie, en ressortir puis entrer à nouveau en Bosnie pour quelques kilomètres, en sortir, revenir en Croatie qu’il faudra quitter pour pénétrer au Monténégro.
En sortant de Trebinje, un panneau à gauche annonce Herzeg Novi, porte d’entrée du Monténégro. La route est neuve, elle n’est pas inscrite sur ma carte. Le passage de frontière se fait en trois minutes.
En arrivant au Monténégro, il faut passer un péage. Je donne des euros au guichetiers et lui demande de me rendre en monnaie locale. Il me rend des euros.
Je lui réitère ma requête. "Puis-je avoir le retour en monnaie locale ?". Il m’annonce qu’au Monténégro, la monnaie locale n’est autre que l’euro... A ma décharge, nous ne comptions pas aller au Monténégro et je n’ai ni carte ni guide de ce petit pays…
Nous rejoignons les Bouches de Kotor (fjord classé au Patrimoine de l’Unesco), grandiose, et retrouvons voitures et camping-cars allemands, hollandais et italiens.
Je m’attaque au frigo. Mes talents de bricoleur sont légendaires et pourtant, je parviens je ne sais trop comment à faire redémarrer l’appareil.
Jour: 0 km Total: 3249 km
Plage et détente. Ravitaillement en fruits et légumes dans des petites échoppes de bord de route. Les cigarettes s’achètent à la poste au Monténégro…
Pendant la sieste, je m’échappe pour faire quelques photos.
Super compte-rendu, merci !
Et très belles photos, originales pour beaucoup
J'attends maintenant votre impression sur l'Albanie avec impatience, on y sera dans 10 jours pour la première fois
😊
1 : Il faut vivre ses rêves et non pas rêver sa vie - 2 : mieux vaut vivre avec des remords qu'avec des regrets
Jour: 49 km Total: 3298 km
La ville de Kotor est magnifique même si elles ressemble à d’autres villes de la côte adriatique. Nichée au fond des bouches du même nom, elle est surplombée d’une citadelle aérienne.
Les touristes ne s’y sont pas trompés, il y arrivent par la route (se garer est un enfer) et par la mer, dans des immenses paquebots de croisière (ce qui n’est pas sans rappeler les fjords norvégiens) ou dans des yachts luxueux.
La ville est donc prise d’assaut.
Je prends l’itinéraire des 1000 marches menant à la citadelle jusqu’à mi-parcours histoire de ne pas faire patienter ma petite famille sous cette fournaise. Les vues sur la ville et le fjord sont panoramiques.
Nous rencontrons dans la soirée, sur la plage, Thomas, un français d’origine serbe qui connaît bien le Monténégro et qui nous briefe sur les endroits à ne pas rater.
Au camping, nous avons accès à internet, ce qui me permet de peaufiner notre itinéraire. Après le Monténégro, nous passerons en Albanie puis traversons la Macédoine pour rejoindre la Serbie.
Jour: 159 km Total: 3457 km
Route vers le nord du Monténégro.
De Kotor à Cetinje, la route est extraordinairement panoramique. A mesure qu’elle s’élève, l’horizon s’éloigne. Les vues qu’elle offre sont démentielles. Lors de cette montée composée d’interminables lacets, Gaspard me demande si je peux cesser de me tromper de route. Devant mon incrédulité, il m’explique qu’il en a assez que l’on fasse toujours demi-tour…
Pause déjeuner à Cetinje, ville paisible et endormie qui fut la capitale du Monténégro, comme en témoigne la présence des anciennes ambassades.
Le monastère qui jouxte le centre ville est imposant. Il contient une minuscule chapelle.
Nous passons ensuite Podgorica, essuyons un orage dantesque puis, alors que tout le monde dort, je prends la direction du Monastère d’Ostrog .
Un monastère troglodyte, accroché à la falaise comme s’il était en équilibre. Impressionnant pour le touriste que je suis, sacré pour les fidèles qui se signent avec foi avant d’entrer. Lieu de pèlerinage, les reliques conservées (17ème siècle) provoqueraient des guérisons miraculeuses. Lorsqu’un religieux orthodoxe traverse le parvis, des femmes se pressent pour lui baiser la main.
Nuit sur le parking d’un hôtel pour une poignée d’euros.
Ravie de te retrouver sur les routes des Balkans, que je connais somme toute assez peu.
Et de suivre les aventures des maintenant célèbres Gaspard et Emile 😏
Et toujours ces belles photos...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
En voyant ta photo du bateau de croisière dans les bouches de Kotor (1ere photo) je le souviens m'être réveillée un matin dans une chambre d'hôte au bord de l'eau , là j'hallucine, un immeuble a poussé dans la nuit sur l'eau ..😕 ouf , non, c'est juste un de ces immenses bateau de croisière qui passe vite son chemin . Pour avoir connu ces lieux au début des années 80 je regrette un peu cette surabondance de tourisme de masse qui passe par là sans finalement trop rien voir .
ce que je vois ..au réveil 😕brr!!!
Ouf , je repart à pied le long des bouches et c'est un régal
Merci Yo pour ton commentaire. Quant à la célébrité des deux petits, elle n'est que naissante 😄.
Merci Hannah pour ton retour et tes photos 🙂
Je poursuis...
24/07/2014
Jour: 214 km Total: 3671 km
Zabljak est une station de montagne située à l’entrée du Parc National de Durmitor, parc célèbre au Monténégro pour ses paysages et les possibilités de randonnée qu’il offre.
Autant dire qu’avec deux marmots de 2 et 4 ans, nous serons limités question randonnée mais le petit kilomètre de route piétonne et bitumée qui mène au lac Noir (Crno Jezero) est tout à fait adapté pour leur vélo et moto.
Le lac Noir est un lieu splendide, un lac limpide au cœur des montagnes.
Nous gagnons le Canyon de Tara et son eau turquoise. Le pont permettant de le traverser domine la rivière à une hauteur de 172 m.
La route longe ensuite les méandres du cours d’eau sur une cinquantaine de kilomètres entre roc et précipice. A certains endroits, la route s’écroule en partie dans le ravin.
Ici, un monastère perdu. La religieuse entend le moteur du fourgon et vient à ma rencontre. Équipée de sa lourde clé, elle ouvre la porte grinçante. Là, ce sont quelques vieilles bicoques d’un autre temps. La route est magnifique.
Le monastère de Moraca (encore un me direz-vous) date du 13ème siècle. Lorsque nous arrivons face à la haute muraille, les petits dorment. J’ouvre la porte, Emile se réveille. Rouler quelques centaines de mètres suffisent à le rendormir. Tout cela peut paraître anecdotique mais en face du monastère se trouve une café. C’est la seule fois où nous sommes parvenus à boire un café tous les deux, sans enfant…
Le monastère est superbe. Ce qui me marque c’est la vie qui se dégage autour de ces édifices. Outre les visiteurs, les fidèles investissent ces lieux. De plus, les religieux sont toujours présents et conversent avec ceux qui le désirent. A Moraca, ils s’occupent également de quelques dizaines de ruches.
Nous reprenons la route. Un paysan nous loue son champ pour que nous y passions la nuit. Il nous laisse nous installer et revient avec une demi-douzaine de pommes. Il est de retour un peu plus tard pour procéder avec sa famille, à la visite du fourgon.
Jour: 90 km Total: 3761 km
Réveil champêtre…
Une bonne dizaine de camions nous précède à la frontière albanaise.
J’avais repéré un camping au bord du lac Shköder en Albanie. Le site internet était flatteur. Qu’en est-il réellement ?
Une mauvaise piste nous conduit au terrain en question.
Un green anglais (mieux qu’un gazon albanais), de l’espace (toujours mieux qu’un parking de station-service), des chaises longues (dont ��videmment nous ne profiterons pas, enviant ceux qui s’y affalent avec un bouquin), des jeux pour enfants (dont ils profiteront abondamment), des enfants (qu’il nous faut remercier car ils nous ont offert quelques minutes de tranquillité – pas assez pour s’affaler sur une chaise longue cependant -), un restaurant, des locations de canoë, le tout face à l’imposant lac.
Un enfant vient nous ramener notre ballon égaré. « Tu as dit merci Gaspard ? ». « Non, j’ai dit « Thank you ! » C’est bien mon garçon !
Une bergère vient faire paître ses moutons sur les rives du lac juste avant qu’un orage n’éclate.
Conscients que ce camping est une bulle qui nous extrait de la réalité du pays, il est néanmoins pour nous un moyen de laisser davantage de liberté à nos enfants. Ils courent, ils jouent, ils s’éloignent… Ils vivent aussi leurs vacances d’enfants de 2 et 4 ans.
Jour : 31 km Total : 3792 km
L’objectif de la journée est de visiter le ville de Shköder (Shködra) et sa forteresse.
Plus encore qu’en Bosnie, on vend de tout sur le bord des routes. Les charrettes tirées par des ânes ou des chevaux partagent la route avec les autres véhicules. Les stations-service s’alignent tous les 500 m.
La Mosquée de plomb fut achevée au 18ème siècle. Simple coïncidence mais son minaret, frappé par la foudre, s’écroula en 1967, année où les religions furent interdites en Albanie.
Celle-ci est dominée par l’immense forteresse de Shköder (Rozafa). Il subsiste notamment, outre les remparts et les passages, les ruines de la Cathédrale Saint Stéphane (13ème siècle).
La ville en elle-même compte des jolies mosquées, un monastère, une agréable zone piétonne et un monument à la gloire de Mère Teresa qui était albanaise.
La poussette, tel un roseau, plie et ne rompt pas (encore)...
Retour au camping et baignade afin de finir la journée.
Bonjour
Ah, ça y est, l'Albanie !
Je suis encore plus attentivement 😎
Mais tout ce qu'on a vu jusqu'à présent donne envie
Hélas il faut bien choisir quand on est limité en temps
Merci encore
1 : Il faut vivre ses rêves et non pas rêver sa vie - 2 : mieux vaut vivre avec des remords qu'avec des regrets
Jour: 231 km Total: 4023 km
L’odeur sur la route ne m’est pas inconnue. Un mélange de combustion de diesel de mauvaise qualité, de feu de bois, de détritus pourrissant au soleil et quelques autres ingrédients que je ne sais identifier. Ces effluves stimulent ma mémoire olfactive. Paradoxalement, j’aime cette odeur qui me rappelle Bamako ou Le Caire.
Nous atterrissons à Kruja, petite cité médiévale loin d’être extraordinaire mais fort agréable pour une promenade de quelques heures. 7 euros pour un déjeuner abondant pour quatre personnes.
Jour de mariage, la musique aux accents orientaux résonne dans la cité.
Les stations-service se suivent et se ressemblent. Il y en a tous les 500 mètres.
J’avais entendu parler de la conduite plutôt aléatoire des albanais. Il est vrai qu’aux intersections (également dans les lignes droites), la priorité est donnée dans tous les cas et de facto à celui qui tourne. Si un conducteur souhaite bifurquer, il bifurque et le trafic s’adapte. Cependant, avant de pénétrer sur l’autoroute, je trouvais ces recommandations exagérées. Mais ça, c’était avant…
Voici la définition du mot Autoroute que l’on pourrait trouver dans le dictionnaire albanais :
Chaussée à deux voies, le plus souvent limitée à 90 km/h, dans laquelle se trouvent des nids de poules dans le meilleur des cas, d’autruche dans le pire des cas. Cette même chaussée est partagée par tous les types de véhicules présents en Albanie. La circulation peut-être entravée par : les piétons qui traversent sans cesse, les véhicules à contre-sens sur la bande d’arrêt d’urgence (rebaptisée bande de contre-sens), les véhicules dont les conducteurs trouvent qu’il est dangereux de rouler à contre-sens sur la BAU et décident de faire demi-tour par le biais du terre-plein central (qui parfois nécessite plusieurs manœuvres), les conducteurs qui prennent la précaution de s’arrêter pour téléphoner mais qui le font sur la BAU et obligent par la même occasion ceux qui arrivent en contre-sens de se décaler sur la voie de l’autoroute pour doubler celui qui obstrue la BAU… Vous suivez ? A vrai dire, il serait en somme, plus prudent de téléphoner en roulant ou de rouler tous dans le même sens.
Une petite remarque en passant à propos de ton avant dernière photo : c'est bien moche ces tuiles mécaniques, et quel dommage de les avoir posées sur ce si joli toit ! 😕
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Bonsoir.
En Juin 2010, la chaussée à 2 x 2 voies dont tu parles (entre Kruja et Skoder) était vraiment folklo, c'est-à-dire comme tu le racontes plus comme elle n'était pas finie :
- sans prévenir par le moindre panneau ou signal, ça passait à 2 voies + une et certains se retrouvaient alors à rouler sur la terre de la future 4ème voie et/ou se rabattait sans regarder derrière
- de temps en temps, toujours sans panneau d'avertissement, il fallait descendre dans un ravin ou une rivière asséchée par une piste vu que le pont était en construction
- il n'y avait aucun échangeur, ce qui fait qu'un gars qui voulait aller à sa maison situé sur le côté gauche, et bien soit il traversait le petit terre plein en face de chez lui soit il prenait la voie à contresens !
Bon on s'habitue assez vite à se méfier de tout, mais par contre ce que je n'ai jamais fait là-bas, c'est rouler de nuit : nids de poule ou d'autruche, plaques d'égouts disparues, véhicules ou charrettes circulant sans lumières ou arrêtées dans un virage, ...etc...
Néanmoins, pendant nos 3 semaines dans ce pays, cette route à 2x2 voies théoriques c'est le seul endroit d'Albanie (avec la portion vers Dürres) où j'ai vu des gendarmes avec un radar; il devait en attraper pas mal vu la vitesse à laquelle les albanais roulent (quand ils ont une belle voiture, ce qui, paradoxalement, vu la pauvreté du pays, est assez fréquent).
Il vaut mieux circuler dans les montagnes de l'intérieur, il y a moins de monde, et on va forcément moins vite vu que les routes goudronnées sont très dégradées ou tout simplement des pistes. Et dans ces coins qui étaient plus préservés du tourisme, l'accueil des gens était super, ils n'avaient pas l'habitude de voir un fourgon aménagé.
J'attends la suite pour revivre quelques souvenirs.
Merci Pierre pour ces précisions.
Tu avais passé 3 semaines en Albanie. Le seul regret que j'ai à propos de ce voyage, c'est justement de ne pas avoir passé plus de temps en Albanie. J'ai beaucoup aimé l'ambiance...
Nous arrivons à Dürres, grande station balnéaire albanaise.
Plage bondée mais cette eau grisâtre sur fond de grues et de cargos ne me donnent pas envie d’y mettre un doigt de pied.
Il y a toujours quelque chose à voir sur le bord des routes en Albanie. Ici, c’est un homme qui marche avec une chèvre qu’il porte la tête en bas. Quelques kilomètres auparavant, dans les rues de Dürres, un homme tenait un ours en laisse.
L’autoroute se poursuit et j’aspire plutôt à une petite route tranquille. Mon souhait est exaucé, en partie seulement. Petite route, c’est bon. Il s’agit de celle qui doit nous mener à Berat. Tranquille, non. La route est en travaux. Cependant, la réfection de la chaussée s’étend sur 30 km. Visiblement, une équipe est à pied d’œuvre sur une distance de 50 mètres. Ma question : pourquoi avoir détruit 30 km de bitume si un seul tronçon de 50 mètres est recouvert par une seule équipe ? N’aurait-il valu pas mieux détruire 50 m de route et effectuer son revêtement puis les 50 suivants… Il y a peut-être des données que je n’ai pas mais en conséquence, c’est 30 km de piste défoncée parcourus à 20 km/h qui nous attendent. Le lendemain, nous devrons également emprunter le même itinéraire…
Nous arrivons à Berat en fin d’après-midi où nous prenons possession d’un petite étendue d’herbe cachée sous les oliviers pour passer la nuit. Le terrain appartient à un restaurant et le propriétaire, pour quelques euros, permet de s'y installer.
Si j'en juge la densité de transats, cette plage qui ne vous tentait pas, attire quand même beaucoup de monde...
Quelle est la température de l'eau à cette saison ?
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Jour: 228 km Total: 4251 km
Promenade dans Berat, « la ville aux 1000 fenêtres ». La cité est composées de maisons accrochées à deux flancs de montagne. Les ruelles escarpées et pavées créent un véritable labyrinthe, un réseau permettant d’accéder aux habitations. La ville est vivante, elle est habitée…
Nous passons la frontière macédonienne, le douanier nous souhaite la bienvenue et nous offre des marque-pages…
La ville d’Ohrid (et son lac du même nom) est le centre touristique du pays. Le lac, très agréable est un lieu de baignade apprécié par les macédoniens. Il est en outre, le lac le plus ancien d'Europe et abrite de nombreuses espèces endémiques. Il y existe même des campings !
Nous partons donc à la recherche d’un lieu paisible, en bord de lac, afin que les petits puissent se défouler (paisible mais plus pour longtemps...).
Premier camping: nous ne nous arrêtons pas, les caravanes sont entassées, empilées presque et il manque d’espace.
Deuxième camping: je remets les passeports au réceptionniste. Cette fois encore, les campeurs et leur caravane d’un autre temps sont les uns sur les autres. Chacun semble jeter ses déchets à bout de bras. Ils volettent dans les allées au gré du vent. Je récupère sans tarder nos papiers d'identité.
Troisième camping: nous sommes à 30 km d’Ohrid, si celui-ci ne convient pas, nous chercherons un parking qui se révélera plus calme et plus propre. Nous sommes accueillis par un campement de caravanes cassées, sans roues, scotchées à maintes reprises. Visiblement, elles sont habitées. L’envie de faire demi-tour est immédiate. Nous persistons cependant et trouvons une zone herbeuse étendue, en face du lac.
Les toilettes et les douches se passent de commentaire, je me laverai donc dans le lac…
Peu enthousiaste, je m’applique tout de même à sortir nos chaises, à brancher l’électricité, à installer notre petit campement.
C’est alors qu’une voiture passe devant nous, j’ai juste le temps d’interpeller son conducteur. Il s’agit d’Arnaud et Cécile, deux français rencontrés en Albanie. Gaspard et Émile avaient sympathisé avec leurs enfants, un peu plus âgés. Une aubaine qui égaiera certainement le séjour des petits.
Les enfants jouent, nous prenons un verre. Coucher vers 1h00 du matin après une soirée très agréable.
Cette rencontre nous incite à rester une nuit de plus dans ce camping (campement ?).
Jour: 67 km Total: 4318 km
Avant de visiter le monastère de Saint Naum, nous nous laissons tenter par un petit tour de bateau, piloté par le "capitaine"...
Le monastère de Saint Naum (construction débutée au 10ème siècle), d'architecture byzantine, est d'une grande beauté. Sa situation, elle aussi, est exceptionnelle. Perché sur un petit promontoire, il domine tout le lac. Cette fois-ci encore, ces lieux sont avant tout des lieux de culte avant d'être des attractions pour touristes. Pourtant la plage qui jouxte l'édifice laisse une impression curieuse. Baignade et recueillement font ici bon ménage.
Ohrid est la ville qui a donné le nom au Lac. L'été, les macédoniens s'y ruent pour profiter des plages et de ses monuments historiques. En effet, surnommée la Jérusalem macédonienne, la cité datant de l'antiquité, est classée au Patrimoine Mondial de l'Unesco (bien que menacée de déclassement pour cause de constructions anarchiques) et est un haut lieu du christianisme orthodoxe. Ses ruelles tortueuses mènent au lac ou à la Forteresse du Tsar Samuel qui domine les environs.
Évidemment, nous partons pour une grande promenade à la pire heure qui soit (13h00), en plein soleil, sans poussette ni vélo (reliefs, pavés, escaliers). Bien que notre escapade prenne des airs de chemin de croix, elle se révèle fort appréciable (pour moi) tant l'histoire est visible à chaque coin de ruelle.
Jour: 326 km Total: 4644 km
Adieux chaleureux avec Arnaud, Cécile et leurs enfants. Je leur échange un guide de la Bosnie contre un de la Macédoine.
La route qui mène au Parc National de Mavrovo gagne les montagnes. les paysages sont montagneux et couverts d'une épaisse forêt.
Mavrovo est le village principal du lac et de sa région. La curiosité qui m'a menée jusqu'ici, c'est cette église en partie engloutie par la construction d'un barrage. Le reste manque d'intérêt, excepté les monastères ici ou là.
Le village, qui est également une station de ski, est quasiment désert. La route principale est balayée par les vents. J'avais imaginé que si l'endroit nous plaisait, nous y resterions quelques jours. Cette perspective n'est plus d'actualité...
En bordure de lac, des caravanes délabrées s'enlisent le temps des vacances.
Nous poursuivons donc notre route, il me reste plus d'un tour dans mon sac. L'autoroute est interrompue sans cesse par les péages. Nous gagnons rapidement Skopje, la capitale du pays.
Matka est donc notre prochaine étape. Des gorges profondes bordées par des petits restaurants et un plan d'eau pour de douces balades en bateau et un camping.
Le temps s'est couvert, un restaurant miteux, des montagnes de déchets qui débordent de dizaines de poubelles et un camping désaffecté. Le site naturel est beau mais l'aménagement, la saleté, le mauvais temps et notre humeur nous en donnent une image calamiteuse.
Finalement, en Macédoine, la vie semble s'être arrêtée dans les années 70. Le temps achevant de dégrader les installations vieillottes...
Dans le guide, un camping est indiqué à la sortie de Skopje, à 6 km du centre-ville. Arrivant par la rocade, je ne sais pas si c'est à gauche ou à droite que je dois bifurquer. Évidemment, je prends à droite et c'est deux heures plus tard que je me rendrai compte de mon erreur.
Que s'est-il passé durant ces deux heures ? J'ai demandé à deux pompistes, un taxi, une multitude passants, nous nous sommes pris un orage de pluie, de bourrasques, de grêle. Les voitures s'arrêtaient sous les ponts afin de ne pas être endommagées, j'ai pris l'autoroute dans l'autre sens, j'ai attendu 15 km avant de pouvoir faire demi-tour, j'ai du passer un péage, un second et enfin, nous y sommes parvenus. Camping dépendant de l'hôtel Best Western, hors de prix et sur l'autoroute. Les petits sont dans le camion depuis ce matin, la pluie cesse, ils peuvent profiter des toboggans trempés. Ils reviennent revigorés et boueux.
Demain, nous entrons en Serbie, pays pour lequel je possède une carte détaillée et un guide !
Jour: 348 kmTotal: 4992 km
La frontière serbe est passée sans encombre. La pause déjeuner doit avoir lieu dans un parc ombragé merveilleux situé dans une station thermale elle aussi merveilleuse, bordée par des hôtels et demeures... merveilleuses. La description de Vranjska Banja qui nous est faite dans le guide nous promet donc des instants merveilleux. Nous avons cependant appris à nous méfier et notre enthousiasme est mesuré.
Voici donc ce que j'écrirais à la place de ce rédacteur qui, vraisemblablement, n'a jamais mis les pieds dans ce patelin:
" Cité thermale décadente. Ne manquez pas l'immense hôtel en ruines, tagué et envahi par la végétation ainsi que les demeures délabrées qui bordent le petit parc. Les jours de chaleur sont à éviter car les arbustes, du fait de leur taille modeste, n'apportent pas d'ombre. La majorité des établissements présents dans la minuscule rue principale sont des casinos aux vitres calfeutrées. La rivière qui traverse Vranjska Banja a été aménagée et bétonnée si bien qu'elle ressemble à un caniveau de grande taille."
Hormis ces aspects peu flatteurs, et la crainte de s'être trompés de lieu, la pause est appréciée, les vélos sont sortis et les bureks engloutis sont savoureux.
Nous repartons sous la pluie.
Une de mes brillantes idées nous conduit à sortir de l'autoroute et couper à travers champs pour rejoindre Kraljevo. J'ai une carte détaillée, j'en profite. L'itinéraire bis emprunte des routes routes rouges (axes principaux) puis des routes jaunes (ce qui correspond à nos départementales) puis se termine par quelques dizaines de kilomètres de routes indiquées en blanc qui correspondent, j'imagine, à des voies plus petites.
La pluie redouble alors que nous nous enfonçons dans les profondeurs serbes. La route se rétrécit et les panneaux, jusqu'alors traduit en écriture latine, ne sont plus qu'en cyrillique. Faisant confiance à mon sens de l'orientation, nous poursuivons notre plongée.
La pluie forcit, le revêtement de la route se dégrade. La forêt a remplacé les champs et depuis quelques temps déjà, nous n'avons croisé personne. Les panneaux indiquant les directions ont totalement disparu. Le brouillard vient me compliquer la tâche. D'autant que sur cette petite route, des portions de bitume ont laissé place à des torrents de boue.
Cela fait déjà plusieurs heures que nous avons quitté la route rouge et notre errance forestière se poursuit.
Enfin, un panneau indique Krusevac. Pour être plus précis, deux panneaux indiquent Krusevac, et ce, dans deux directions opposées. Je prends à gauche et déjà, quelques habitations apparaissent. Les habitants, armés de pelles, creusent les fossés. La route s'est transformée en rivière et les rivières en torrents.
Il est temps de trouver un lieu pour dormir. Un parking de restaurant nous convient, le patron n'est pas de cet avis.
C'est finalement à l'entrée de Kraljevo que nous trouvons une station-service avec toboggan (trempé) et wifi.
Une pluie fine nous accueille au réveil.
Notre route se poursuit plein sud. Le château de Maglic, installé sur un promontoire, domine toute la région. Je suis envoyé comme éclaireur, Anne Gaëlle et les enfants m'attendent au fourgon. Le pont suspendu qui enjambe la rivière gonflée par les pluies permet d'accéder à l'édifice. Les planches disjointes craquent sous mes pas, le pont se balance dangereusement au dessus des remous. Finalement, je fais demi-tour. De toutes façons, la maman refusera que ses petits mettent un orteil sur cette passerelle.
Inscrit au Patrimoine Mondial de l'Unesco, le monastère de Studenica (12ème ) est un édifice majeur en Serbie. L'Église de la Sainte Mère de Dieu, le bâtiment principal, est construit intégralement en marbre.
La pluie cesse enfin.
La route se poursuit vers le sud.
Nous parvenons à Novi Pazar, ville méridionale, à la frontière du Kosovo. La cité a la particularité d'être à majorité musulmane. les minarets y remplacent donc les clochers et, nous concernant, le soleil remplace la pluie.
La ville et sa zone piétonne et l'ambiance générale sont agréables mais quelques détails nous interpellent. Le nombre de voitures de luxe immatriculées en Allemagne et en Suisse est étonnant. Certaines coûtent plus de 200 000 euros. Il s'agit certainement de Serbes vivant dans ces pays revenant l'été mais ces signes de grande richesse sèment quelques interrogations. Les bureaux de change sont également très nombreux alors que les touristes sont inexistants. Ajoutons les quelques gamins de moins de 12 ans déambulant pieds nus, la cigarette aux lèvres, tout cela concourt à une atmosphère spéciale. (Si vous êtes des lecteurs assidus, je trouverai une partie d'explication un peu plus loin dans le carnet...)
Les petits sont difficilement contrôlables et la promenade est difficile.
La route de Nova Vajos est magnifique. Elle borde la frontière du Monténégro, louvoie entre les collines et offre des vues superbes sur la campagne. Cependant, ces beaux paysages ne nous donnent pas un lieu où nous pourrons dormir. L'heure avance, le soleil décile, il va falloir partir à la recherche d'un bivouac.
C'est 7 km avant Nova Vajos que nous voyons un petit panonceau jaune indiquant camping. En fait, il s'agit de Branko et sa famille qui proposent pour quelques euros de garer le fourgon dans leur jardin. L'accueil est chaleureux, la communication difficile...
Nous sommes à la campagne. Les petits sont très intéressés par les scènes auxquelles ils assistent. Les vaches rentrent des alpages, les gamins du voisinage apportent une chèvre pour la traire devant nous, on nous apporte du café et du fromage frais... Cette journée se termine par une bonne partie de football avec Nenard et ses copains.
Jour: 210 km Total: 5432 km
Après quelques jeux avec les chats de la maison, nous optons pour une piste qui longe l'impressionnant canyon de l'Uvac, une rivière faite de multiples méandres. Les aigles y tournoient sans cesse à la recherche d'une proie. Le panorama est magnifique.
Zlatibor est une station très populaire en Serbie. Des restaurants, des fêtes foraines, des pédalos sur le lac artificiel, des chevaux à roulettes, des vrais, des quads, des motos, des buggys, des hommes-sandwichs, des ventes de souvenirs, des glaces, des crêpes... Rien ne manque. Un enfer pour nous et notre porte-monnaie, le paradis pour les enfants.
Nous quittons ce parc d'attraction qui nous fait croire qu'il est village avant que tous nos dinars ne s'envolent définitivement...
Nous prenons la direction du Parc National de Tara. La forêt est dense, la route, au fil des kilomètres, laisse apparaître des nids de poules vastes et profond. L'instant est critique quand al surface des trous dépasse celle du bitume. Je roule à 10 km/h.
Nous arrivons non sans peine au Lac de Zaovine. La encore, comme en Macédoine, une dizaine de caravanes usées y sont installées pour quelques temps visiblement. L'endroit est beau, sans plus.
En poursuivant notre route, nous apercevons un restaurant avec toboggans, balançoires et aire de jeu pour les enfants. Mieux, il propose un emplacement sur une étendue d'herbe en contrebas.
Je vais voir le patron qui m'annonce que c'est 11 euros avec tente, douche et toilettes. Je lui réponds gentiment que je n'ai pas besoin de douche, de toilettes et encore moins de tente. J'aimerais simplement me garer ici car les jeux pour enfants me seront d'un grand secours. Qu'importe, il nous faut payer 11 euros. Je ne suis pas d'accord mais les petits ont besoin de se défouler.
Les voilà partis sur les jeux et j'attends avec impatience le moment où je m'asseirai avec une bière fraîche, ruminant l'absence de compréhension du restaurateur. Quelques manoeuvres pour dormir à plat et je m'embourbe. La boue grasse s'est incrustée dans chacune des rainures des pneus les rendant lisses comme des oeufs. Impossible de reculer ou d'avancer et me voilà coincé 10 mètres en contrebas de la route.
Je retourne voir le restaurateur qui envoie son fils. Des pierres, des morceaux de moquette et les bras généreux d'un client me permettront, après 45 minutes d'effort, de sortir de ce bourbier. Le temps de rentrer tout le monde, de récupérer mes 11 euros (non mais !) et de filer vers un bivouac moins gras.
C'est finalement au centre-ville de Bajina Basta, petite bourgade animée que nous nous garons pour la nuit. Une zone piétonne et des structures gonflables pour enfants, des marchands de glaces et une place dans une ruelle annexe, tout va pour le mieux...
Juste une petite rectification Pierre , la photo ce n'est pas un aigle mais un vautour fauve 😎 . En général lorsqu'on aperçoit plusieurs aigles qui volent ensemble , bingo ce sont des vautours grands charognards qui nettoient bien la montagne mais ne se nourrissent pas de proies vivantes . Les aigles sont en général solitaires et il y en a pas mal dans ce coin .
Jour: 213 kmTotal: 5645 km
Les mouches ont envahi le camion.
Il va nous falloir trouver un camping digne de ce nom. Le réservoir d'eau claire est vide, celui des eaux usées est plein ainsi que les toilettes, une lessive est à faire de toute urgence. Les enfants ont passé beaucoup de temps dans leur siège ces derniers jours, il leur faut un lieu adapté pour qu'ils puissent jouer et s'aérer en toute sécurité. Ce fameux guide en qui nous n'avons plus confiance indique un camping à une petite centaine de kilomètres de notre point de départ. Celui-ci, s'il existe, constituera une halte appréciable de quelques jours .
Nous reprenons donc la route pleins d'espérance...
Monument commémorant les combats entre les partisans communistes yougoslaves et les nazis en 1941
Le camping de Divicibare est à l'abandon, envahi par la végétation. Espoirs envolés.
Une source à la sortie du patelin nous permet de refaire le plein de 90 litres d'eau claire. 1/3 de nos problèmes sont résolus. Valjevo est déserte en ce dimanche devenu gris et pluvieux. Une pizzeria nous permet, en plus de déjeuner, de capter une connexion internet. Je déniche un camping à une trentaine de kilomètres de Belgrade. L'espoir renaît.
C'est donc chose faite à Bacevac. Le lieu n'est pas à proprement parlé un camping. C'est plutôt un hôtel vide, un restaurant bondé en ce dimanche, un petit zoo, une aire de jeu pour les enfants et 3 ou 4 emplacements dotés d'eau et d'électricité. On ne demande pas mieux. Je me gare donc sur le gazon détrempé et m'embourbe creusant ainsi des ornières gigantesques sur le green si bien entretenu. Cette fois-ci, c'est le tracteur qui nous sort de ce faux pas devant la cinquantaine de clients serbes attablés à l'extérieur. Une entrée remarquée pour nous qui sommes les premiers français à s'arrêter dans le coin... Je me gare donc sur les graviers...
Le reste n'est que du plaisir. Les enfants ont un espace immense pour jouer et s'occuper des animaux et nous avons un peu de tranquillité ! Les employés viennent nous saluer un par un, le patron me demande de parler à sa femme au téléphone, elle aime beaucoup notre langue mais n'en parle pas un mot. Me voilà donc parti pour un monologue en français.
Jour: 8 km Total: 5653 km
Au réveil, le patron nous apporte des poires fraîchement cueillies.
Le lundi, à Barajevo, c'est jour de marché. Nous y sommes par hasard, ce dernier fait bien les choses. Les paysans viennent de tous les villages alentour pour y vendre toutes sortes d'animaux, de fruits et légumes, de pièces auto d'occasion, de vêtements et du bois.
Sur le retour, nous prenons un homme en stop qui, se retournant, n'en croit pas ses yeux en voyant l'aménagement du fourgon et les quatre billes interrogatrices des enfants, bien assis dans leur siège auto.
Retour au camping et temps libre pour les enfants.
Pendant ce moment de répit, je fais des recherches sur les plaques suisses et les voitures de luxe croisées à Novi Pazar. D'après les différents rapports que j'ai pu consulter, il s'avère que cette région est une plaque tournante de trafics en tous genres.
"Novi Pazar joue le rôle d’une place neutre mafieuse. «La Genève des Balkans», ironisent certains. C’est ici, en effet, que se rencontrent les réseaux criminels serbes, monténégrins, bosniaques et kosovars. À Sarajevo, les Sandjakis ont la réputation de tenir tous les réseaux de trafic, et les véhicules immatriculés à Novi Pazar sont les seuls à pouvoir circuler sans problèmes aussi bien en Serbie, au Monténégro qu’au Kosovo.
La réputation de Novi Pazar dépasse même les frontières de la région : certains «hommes d’affaires» locaux se portent garants, sur leurs biens et sur leur vie, de cargaisons d’héroïne qui circulent d’Istanbul vers l’Europe occidentale." Source: rfi.fr
Voilà pour l'explication...
Y aller: en avion: la ligne Paris-Belgrade n’est plus assurée que par la JAT Airways: 3 vols par jour, bien répartis dans la journée. 2 heures et demi de vol.…
Et bien le confinement a de beaux jours devant lui! Chose promise, chose due (publier une journée de vadrouille par jour de confinement)! Après le carnet sur…
E trajet pour y aller Nous partons de Rennes (40kms avant pour moi) le dimanche 17 Avril Il fait froid et nous avons hâte d’aller vers le soleil Trajet global:…
Carnets de voyage › Bosnie-Herzégovine / Albanie / Macédoine · 13 replies
Un voyage rapide de vingt jours de Lyon à Lyon, 5200 kilomètres en voiture (Koleos) par différents pays des Balkans. Des impressions glanées au fil des arrêts…
Comme promis, pour compléter notre "récit" (Shqipëria: voyager en Albanie en 2010), voici quelques photos significatives de notre voyage en Albanie, par route…
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.
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!
"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.
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!!!
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.
"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...
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.
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!
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.
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
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:
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.
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...
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rental options kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything suddenly fell into place—I told myself, it’s time!
The preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not the south?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or go with the flow?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela about this destination (the guide has been updated since).
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You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(Steak for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
You’ll find here a post with some practical information.
And here, the version of the travel journal without comments.
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As a supplement, the route track.
Not necessarily ultra-accurate since Google has serious gaps for this destination...
January 2026
Here we go again for new adventures and the pleasure of sharing them with you here! First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me with the preparations, even with some last-minute improvisations just days before departure. Thanks to Montagnard74, Jojoone1, Songsam, Attila, Dennis2, NadegerFERM, and the authors whose travel journals about Laos inspired me (Montagnard74, Muriel18, Mavietongs...).
In this story, written by Richard and illustrated by me, we’ll tell you about the journey of four friends: Catherine, Richard, Nathalie, and Bruno. A reinvented but overall successful trip, filled with discoveries and surprises, the scents of spices and frangipani flowers, (too) spicy food, sunsets, and... one big mess.