Eté 2018. Le Montana, cette année, ne sera qu’une étape. Prometteuse certes, mais une simple étape dans un circuit qui pour une fois ne nous mènera pas dans des endroits connus. Grands Canyons, Graceland, bayous et pays de Mark Twain sont derrière nous. Nous sommes en quête, voyez-vous, d’autre chose. Cette fois-ci nous suivrons une large trajectoire dans l’Amérique profonde, celle dont les guides ne parlent pas, ou si peu. Deux grandes villes seulement : Seattle, pour commencer, et San Francisco/Oakland, pour finir. Entre les deux, l’ouest hors sentiers touristiques, à la seule exception de Yellowstone, le parc où le touriste peut se mesurer à un ours noir ou parfaire une existence dissolue dans un lac acide.
La promesse est donc celle d’une longue randonnée entre des cités de taille moyenne, à l’affût d’une certaine Amérique secrète et peut-être – l’avenir nous le dira – méfiante envers les étrangers. Nous verrons des villes fantômes et contemplerons à l’ouest du pays mormon des communautés fondées, peut-être, par mes lointains ancêtres basques. Bref, campagne, grands espaces et, on l’espère, heureuses surprises.
Nous commençons donc par Seattle. Une grande ville qui n’évoque rien, sauf quelques séries TV et l’image d’une grande tour, comme le monde d’aujourd’hui en comporte tant. Mais qui irait faire spontanément une virée à Seattle ? Que trouver d’exceptionnel à faire dans ce cul-de-sac venteux, aux confins du Canada ?
A vrai dire on n’en sait rien. Mais c’est aussi pour cela que nous partons.
Je prends place dans le van pour découvrir ta vision d'un coin que j'apprécie particulièrement.
"Si partir vivre ses rêves remplit l'âme, les partager après les avoir réalisés la grandit"
"Qui veut apprendre à se connaître commence par explorer le monde"
Je monte aussi à bord pour refaire le voyage de l'été passé, j'avais fait un carnet sur notre SFO-Seattle-SFO 2017, et cela m'intéresse de voir un autre regard.
Je monte aussi à bord pour refaire le voyage de l'été passé, j'avais fait un carnet sur notre SFO-Seattle-SFO 2017, et cela m'intéresse de voir un autre regard.
Bonsoir Antoinette,
Nous n'avons pas fait le même trajet, mais ce sera un plaisir de confronter nos souvenirs.
Effectivement je ne connais pas le Montana et l'idaho, j'aurai donc le plaisir de les découvrir sous ta plume. Par contre nous avions été au Yellowstone en 2009 lors d'une boucle Denver-Denver.Ce sont aussi de magnifiques ouvenirs
Il est des jours où l'on n'en finit pas d'arriver. Bonne surprise : fini le questionnaire cartonné à compléter avant de poser les pieds aux USA. Un formulaire si mal fichu que jamais je ne suis jamais arrivé le remplir correctement du premier coup, me trompant toujours et invariablement au même endroit. Non, maintenant, on dialogue dès l'atterrissage avec une borne électronique. Du temps gagné, à coup sûr, mais ensuite pas de miracle. Au terme d'une attente démesurée, il faudra avoir une ultime entrevue avec un policier des frontières en chair et en os. L'interrogatoire, comme il est de coutume, est mené sur un ton badin. "Alors les amis, vous allez où ? Bainbridge Island ? Vous savez que c'est une île, comme son nom l'indique, hein ? Ah, ah ! Vous allez prendre le bateau ? Mais vous avez google-isé Bainbridge, d'abord, pour voir comment c'est ? Et pour le shopping, vous irez où ?"
Je réponds "oui" à tout, en surjouant l'admiration quand le type des douanes me décrit la beauté des paysages maritimes. On sait jamais, des fois qu'il aurait pour consigne de refouler les rabat-joie.
Jusque là, ça va, question attente on reste dans la norme. Mais une fois nos identités tamponnées et les bagages récupérés au pied d'un tapis désormais figé (vu les délais de douane, le tournez manège des valises orphelines a été abrégé), le Long Jour de l'Arrivée déploie ses maléfices. Il est minuit à Paris, et seulement le début d'après-midi à Seattle. Nous ne savions pas encore que nous passerions l’équivalent d'une nuit blanche pour notre premier jour dans l'Etat de Washington.
Entourés d'autres arrivants étreignant des dossiers frappés des armes d'Hertz et Enterprise, nous rejoignons en navette spéciale le terminal des voitures à louer. La réservation a été faite depuis longtemps, ce qui ne change rien aux boniments de la préposée qui insiste pour nous donner un monstrueux 4x4 en lieu et place de la routière dûment réservée depuis la France. Je connais le truc, je suis déjà tombé dans le piège. Le supplément modique quotidien, gonflé par l'ajout des taxes et la durée de la location, doublerait allègrement le tarif initial. Alors, c'est non.
Grosso modo, pour la location de voitures aux Etats-unis, il y a deux façons d'être traités. Soit on vous remet telle voiture, celle-là et pas une autre, sans que vous ne puissiez émettre la moindre réserve ; ou alors, on vous laisse libre dans un immense parking où des autos rutilantes attendent, alignées sur la ligne de départ, en vous demandant de choisir le modèle qui vous plaît. Thrifty à Seattle est adepte de la seconde école. "Vous pouvez prendre n'importe quel modèle entre les places 1 et 21", me dit un jeune gars. Une belle Ford Fusion hybride retient mon attention, mais son coffre s'avère trop petit pour nos deux valises. Du coup ce sera une Nissan Altima, mécanique aux reprises mordantes et à la malle confortable.
Le smartphone servant de GPS rejoint son support aimanté fixé sur une grille d'aération. Toutes les cartes sont en mémoire, afin de pouvoir se repérer sans 3G ni wifi. C'est parti, direction le nord vers Seattle ville, d'où nous rejoindrons l'embarcadère. Étrange : aucun de nos téléphones ne parvient à se connecter au moindre réseau. Cela nous rappelle nos aventures en "zone blanche", quelque part en territoire indien. Mais là, dans la vaste banlieue de Seattle, c'est tout de même fort. Et le GPS fait des siennes en se mettant à tresser des itinéraires sortis de l'âme tortueuse d'un démon qui rêve. Je vois, sur l'écran, le symbole représentant ma voiture se téléporter de voie en voie, quitter l'autoroute où nous sommes pourtant bien engagés pour s'obstiner dans on ne sait quelle venelle aveugle, tandis que l'appareil m'ordonne sur un ton sans appel d'opérer un demi-tour immédiat. La crainte de me retrouver sans boussole dans une région inconnue taraude mon esprit resté dans un GMT parallèle.
Par bonheur, le chemin vers le ferry est désormais indiqué par des panneaux explicites. Une imposante file de voitures patiente avant l'embarquement pour Bainbridge Island. C'est là-bas que nous avons trouvé un logement avec Airbnb, chose rendue difficile par la faiblesse de l'offre à Seattle et sa région. Seul un bras de mer sépare cette île de la métropole, et une traversée de 35 minutes, après tout, est beaucoup plus rapide que certains trajets en trains de banlieue depuis d'improbables faubourgs.
Tout serait pour le mieux si la file de voitures avançait. Mais tout semble figé en cet interminable après-midi, un peu comme une séance au Sénat ou un match de l'équipe de France de football . Nous apprendrons plus tard qu'à l'approche conjuguée du week-end et de l'été, les liaisons sont saturées, et que plusieurs rotations sont nécessaires pour que l'ensemble des voyageurs puisse "passer de l'autre côté".
Seattle au loin
Une fois rendu sur place - il doit être vers les 4 ou 5 heures du matin au tic-tac faiblard de mon horloge interne - me revoici au volant. Le GPS recommence sa grève perlée de syndicaliste moustachu et seule une énergique réinitialisation le remet pour un temps dans le droit chemin. Voici enfin notre sweet home, une superbe baraque de bois au milieu de la nature. Mais voilà, elle est vide. Et nous n'avons ni clefs, ni réseau téléphonique pour prévenir notre hôte.
Seule solution : dénicher un point wifi ouvert, et de là renouer le contact. Nous trouverons le réseau salutaire à l'ombre d'un McDo. C'est bien la première fois que l'horrible chaîne de restauration aura pu être d'une quelconque utilité. Quand les clefs sont récupérées et l'appartement investi, le jour est sur le point de se lever dans la lointaine France. Mais l'essentiel est là : nous pouvons enfin nous remettre d'une première journée bien trop longue.
J'aime bien votre style, j'ai commencé à lire votre carnet sur le Japon, un vrai régal. J'y suis allée deux semaines en mai. Je ne fais pas de carnets car je ne suis pas aussi douée dans l'écriture.
Je vais être très attentive à la suite de ce carnet sur Seattle car je suis en train de préparer un circuit pour juillet 2019 au départ de Vancouver, puis Seattle, Mount St Hélen, Bend.....
Cela fera mon 3ème voyage aux States, mais toujours un bonheur de le préparer et de lire tous les carnets de VF. Je suis novice comparé à certains présents sur ce forum.
Je ne sais pas quel GPS vous aviez sur votre smartphone. Je suis curieuse de le savoir et de savoir si les choses se sont améliorées ensuite.
L'année passée, j'avais CoPilot USA sur mon Iphone, qui marche très bien. Malheureusement mon Iphone fut victime d'une électrocution dès notre deuxième étape, et ensuite j'ai recouru à maps.me , sur mon smartphone de secours, que j'avais relativement apprécié dans les pays baltes en 2016, mais utilisé alors sur le défunt Iphone en 2016. Le guidage buggait pratiquement à chaque arrêt à un feu rouge/stop ou bouchon. Je me suis vue obligée de recopier l'itinéraire à l'avance sur papier et c'est comme cela que nous avons pu rejoindre l'aéroport à SFO pour notre vol de retour, car relancer l'app à chaque plantage ne permettait pas de rouler de manière fluide.
Je me suis demandé si c'était mon smartphone bas de gamme, qui était en cause, ou si c'était maps qui avait des défauts. Je n'ai pas ré-essayé de guidage par maps sur Iphone dans une ville, avec arrêts fréquents , pour comparer.
Je ne sais pas quel GPS vous aviez sur votre smartphone. Je suis curieuse de le savoir et de savoir si les choses se sont améliorées ensuite.
L'année passée, j'avais CoPilot USA sur mon Iphone, qui marche très bien. Malheureusement mon Iphone fut victime d'une électrocution dès notre deuxième étape, et ensuite j'ai recouru à maps.me , sur mon smartphone de secours, que j'avais relativement apprécié dans les pays baltes en 2016, mais utilisé alors sur le défunt Iphone en 2016. Le guidage buggait pratiquement à chaque arrêt à un feu rouge/stop ou bouchon. Je me suis vue obligée de recopier l'itinéraire à l'avance sur papier et c'est comme cela que nous avons pu rejoindre l'aéroport à SFO pour notre vol de retour, car relancer l'app à chaque plantage ne permettait pas de rouler de manière fluide.
Je me suis demandé si c'était mon smartphone bas de gamme, qui était en cause, ou si c'était maps qui avait des défauts. Je n'ai pas ré-essayé de guidage par maps sur Iphone dans une ville, avec arrêts fréquents , pour comparer.
Dans mon cas, le smartphone sous Android est en cause. C'est un appareil chinois, plutôt sympa quoique pas très cher. J'utilise deux applis GPS gratuites qui m'avaient toujours donné satisfaction : Google maps avec cartes en mémoire, et Here WeGo. Mais là, c'était la puce GPS qui se mettait en rideau. Seule solution, redémarrer l'appareil. Bizarrement les bugs étaient assez aléatoires : nombreux à Seattle et dans la région, plus sporadiques par la suite. Allez comprendre !
Mon Wiko ( qui n'est donc pas chinois, mais pas cher non plus) est aussi sous Android. Y a t il une relation??
En tout cas, dans une ville inconnue, et en ayant pris l'habitude du GPS, on se sent vite désécurisé quand le guidage devient erratique ou farfelu.
J'aime bien votre style, j'ai commencé à lire votre carnet sur le Japon, un vrai régal. J'y suis allée deux semaines en mai. Je ne fais pas de carnets car je ne suis pas aussi douée dans l'écriture.
Bonjour Sylvie,
c'est très aimable de me le dire. Le carnet est rédigé au jour le jour, sa qualité dépend dès lors de l'inspiration du moment, j'espère que vous saurez le pardonner.
Je vais être très attentive à la suite de ce carnet sur Seattle car je suis en train de préparer un circuit pour juillet 2019 au départ de Vancouver, puis Seattle, Mount St Hélen, Bend.....
Cela fera mon 3ème voyage aux States, mais toujours un bonheur de le préparer et de lire tous les carnets de VF. Je suis novice comparé à certains présents sur ce forum.
J'embarque pour la suite...😉
Bah, on a tous commencé novices, n'est-ce pas ? Quoiqu'il en soit, bienvenue !
Mon Wiko ( qui n'est donc pas chinois, mais pas cher non plus) est aussi sous Android. Y a t il une relation??
Eh, je crois bien que les Wiko sont conçus en Chine, avant d'être importés en France. J'ai un Huawei (bas de gamme). Peut-être qu'il y a un rapport en fin de compte.
En tout cas, dans une ville inconnue, et en ayant pris l'habitude du GPS, on se sent vite désécurisé quand le guidage devient erratique ou farfelu.
Certainement. Et bien davantage qu'avant l'invention de ces petits joujoux.
A Seattle l'eau est partout. Des bras de mer enlacent la cité et Bainbridge Island, notre point de chute, apparaît comme l'un des derniers maillons du dédale d'archipels enchevêtrés descendant la côte canadienne. La nature est omniprésente : les larges trottoirs des quartiers courus de Seattle font la part belle aux arbres, et on n'est pas surpris de contempler, aux écluses Hiram M. Chittenden, le spectacle de quelques phoques jouant parmi les saumons.
T'es venu à pinces ?
Les très colorées halles au poisson, à Pike Place Market, permettent d'entrevoir les produits de la pêche locale. On ne connaissait l'existence de ces crustacés géants que grâce aux étiquettes de nos conserves. Il y a foule : à chaque nouvelle vente, paraît-il, les poissonniers gratifient le client d'un ballet où le produit acheté est balancé de mains en mains à la façon d'un ballon de foot américain. Un show qui n'a hélas pas lieu lors de notre trop court passage.
En ville
Activistes (1)
Activistes (2)
Activistes (3)
Le caractère propre de Seattle reste délicat à saisir. Ses rues escarpées font évidemment songer à San Francisco. Ses quartiers dans le vent, quant à eux, ne dépareraient aucune métropole américaine, avec leurs bars branchés et chers flanqués de boutiques bios. Les trottoirs sont tenus par des groupes d'activistes gauchistes ou chrétiens. La présence persistante de clochards hirsutes n'incite pas à une flânerie vespérale.
Misère
Rue à Seattle
Tag
Front de mer
Ce dernier point mis à part, l'atmosphère générale de la ville rappelle beaucoup l'Europe du Nord et les grands ports de Scandinavie. Ce n'est certainement pas un hasard si le jumelage avec Bergen est justement mis en valeur ; et le large panorama, tel qu'on le découvre de la tour du Columbia Center, laisse entrevoir - si le temps le permet - une vaste ceinture de massifs enneigés. L'on aperçoit, loin vers l'ouest, la belle île de Bainbridge où nous résidons. C'est un quartier de Seattle à proprement parler, plus clean que le centre ville, plus select, droit sorti d'un catalogue de Nature & Découvertes et, il faut le reconnaître, d'une très grande tranquillité pour se remettre du jet lag.
L'image de Seattle a beau être floue, deux choses, au moins, nous rappellent de temps à autre que cette ville existe. La première, c'est une drôle de tour, vestige d'une exposition universelle, la Space Needle (aiguille de l'espace) dont le sommet a la forme d'une soucoupe volante. Oui, dans les années 1950-60, la mode était aux OVNI, et ce building voué la modernité se devait d'adopter le folklore ambiant. Depuis lors, impossible d'échapper à l'image de la Space Needle à la moindre évocation de la ville, quand bien même la vague des extra-terrestres a pris un sacré coup de vieux - il est vrai qu'on serait bien en peine de trouver une autre icône pour identifier cette cité.
Voie du nord
Space Needle dans la cité
Folklore
De Bainbridge à Boeing
Aucune sauf, peut-être, celle de Boeing. Il faut prendre la voiture une petite heure vers le nord pour trouver les gigantesques entrepôts où les avions sont assemblés. L'usine se visite, mais en mode captif, au sein d'un groupe étroitement surveillé. Tout moyen de communication ou de prise de vues est proscrit. Et pas question non plus de flâner entre les structures de 787 en cours d'assemblage. La contemplation se fait de loin, depuis une passerelle courant sur la largeur du bâtiment. Belle largeur, il faut bien le dire : un demi-kilomètre, permettant à cette usine d'être l'une des plus grandes au monde (voire la plus grande), haute de plusieurs étages et d'une longueur telle que Disneyland de Floride pourrait y loger, nous dit-on avec fierté. Et une certaine orientation dans les références.
L'entrée de l'exposition Boeing
C'est immense, mais c'est vide. Je connais cette impression tenace, et aux effets pervers sur le bien-être de maints employés : la vastitude des lieux est telle qu'on éprouve un malaise devant cette activité intense et insaisissable. La même illusion frappe en Europe le visiteur occasionnel d'usines modernes, décontenancé par un calme apparent en parfaite contradiction avec les exigences de production. Il faut se faire violence pour accepter l'idée de cette machinerie immense où l'homme est ramené à son insignifiance.
Nous voyons donc, de loin, des long-courriers en cours d'assemblage pour différentes compagnies. Pas moins de cinq modèles sont alignés sur le sol en contrebas de notre passerelle. Tous ces avions seront livrés sans les sièges, qu'il appartiendra à chaque compagnie d'ajouter. Les cargos sont identifiables à l'absence de hublots. Boeing n'assure pas la livraison. Chaque compagnie doit envoyer un pilote pour prendre possession de l'appareil mais, nous assure notre guide, Boeing offre à cette occasion un tiers du carburant. Je n'ose penser à la facture des deux tiers restants.
Tout ici est motif de fierté. "On livre six avions par mois, quand d'autres sont capables d'en fournir 6 par an". La fibre de carbone permettra de réaliser des appareils toujours plus légers et performants. Et Boeing n'est pas qu'un fabriquant d'avions civils. Quelques-uns des plus célèbres bombardiers du XXe sont sortis d'ici, et la grande firme reste un acteur important de la conquête spatiale.
Et Airbus ? Jamais évoqué. Seuls quelques modèles réduits sont en vente à la boutique souvenir. Détail sournois : ils sont systématiquement plus chers que ceux de Boeing.
En ville
Fantôme du Mont Rainier
Ceinture de nuages
Allers, retours
Déjeuner à Bainbridge Island
De retour à Bainbridge Island, nous faisons nos bagages pour rejoindre la Péninsule Olympique.
Heureusement Seattle ne se limite pas à boeing et Nirvana qui lui ont permis de se faire connaitre dans le monde ni à space needle son monument emblématique. Certes elle n'a pas la magie et l'intérêt de San Francisco et New York par exemples mais il y a de quoi de voir et s'occuper quelques jours. Ayant des attaches à Vancouver j'y retourne à chaque fois avec plaisir. Pour éviter un sentiment de "frustration" je n'ai jamais visité le future of flight aviation center de boeing. Par contre le museum of flight est très très intéressant avec des simulateurs et selon l'intérêt que l'on a pour l'aviation on peut y rester la journée.
"Si partir vivre ses rêves remplit l'âme, les partager après les avoir réalisés la grandit"
"Qui veut apprendre à se connaître commence par explorer le monde"
Vous n'avez pas visité le musée Chihuly? Peut-être avez vous déjà vu ses oeuvres ailleurs, à Boston? C'est la visite que j'ai préférée à Seattle, ville pour laquelle je n'ai pas eu de coup de coeur.
Heureusement Seattle ne se limite pas à boeing et Nirvana qui lui ont permis de se faire connaitre dans le monde ni à space needle son monument emblématique. Certes elle n'a pas la magie et l'intérêt de San Francisco et New York par exemples mais il y a de quoi de voir et s'occuper quelques jours. Ayant des attaches à Vancouver j'y retourne à chaque fois avec plaisir. Pour éviter un sentiment de "frustration" je n'ai jamais visité le future of flight aviation center de boeing. Par contre le museum of flight est très très intéressant avec des simulateurs et selon l'intérêt que l'on a pour l'aviation on peut y rester la journée.
Bonjour Eric,
C'est vrai qu'on n'a pas eu le coup de foudre pour Seattle. Mais c'est tout aussi vrai qu'on n'a pas visité grand chose, préférant de longues balades en ville ou dans l'île de Bainbridge, histoire de nous remettre du décalage horaire. Entre les deux visites Boeing, nous avons choisie celle où les avions sont assemblés, mais il est clair que les deux étaient sur la liste des possibles... Quant à San Francisco, ce n'est pas évident que je préfère cette ville à Seattle. Mais j'y reviendrai.
Vous n'avez pas visité le musée Chihuly? Peut-être avez vous déjà vu ses oeuvres ailleurs, à Boston? C'est la visite que j'ai préférée à Seattle, ville pour laquelle je n'ai pas eu de coup de coeur.
On l'avait mis sur la liste, pour finalement préférer le plein air. Je note votre intérêt pour ce musée : il faudra revenir et rester plus longtemps, cette fois-ci le programme est resté léger. On a aussi vu des curiosités (comme le Fremont Troll) dont je n'ai pas parlé, étant incapable d'éprouver le moindre intérêt pour ce genre d'objets (que d'autres ont déjà décrits dans leurs carnets).
Pour moi aussi Seattle ne fait pas partie de mes villes "coup de coeur" mais y passer 2/3 jours quand on ne connait pas la ville permet des visites sympas. Es tu allé à l'experience music project à côté de space needle par exemple ?
"Si partir vivre ses rêves remplit l'âme, les partager après les avoir réalisés la grandit"
"Qui veut apprendre à se connaître commence par explorer le monde"
J'étais aussi perplexe avant d'y aller, et pas très heureuse du prix d'entrée, mais une fois à l'intérieur on est pris dans un univers féérique et c'est, dans les productions artistiques modernes ( ou étiquetées telles) quelque chose qui est vraiment à part et qui mérite d'être découvert.
Pour moi aussi Seattle ne fait pas partie de mes villes "coup de coeur" mais y passer 2/3 jours quand on ne connait pas la ville permet des visites sympas. Es tu allé à l'experience music project à côté de space needle par exemple ?
www.mopop.org/
Non, mais si j'avais assisté à une expérience musicale, j'aurais privilégié l'orchestre symphonique de la ville, dont je possède une petite collection de CD - musique américaine évidemment. Mais je prends bien note de ta recommandation.
J'étais aussi perplexe avant d'y aller, et pas très heureuse du prix d'entrée, mais une fois à l'intérieur on est pris dans un univers féérique et c'est, dans les productions artistiques modernes ( ou étiquetées telles) quelque chose qui est vraiment à part et qui mérite d'être découvert.
Vous le vendez bien. Au vu des échanges récents, j'ajoute qu'il s'avère pour nous difficile d'envisager un programme "lourd" dès l'arrivée. Il faut gérer la fatigue, la logistique du trajet à venir, éviter de passer trop de temps dans la voiture... On passera plus de temps la prochaine fois pour les visites. D'un autre côté, quelques jolies balades à pied nous ont permis de prendre pied sur le continent pour mieux envisager l'avenir.
Allez, je continue à le vendre: une partie de l'exposition est dans un jardin,
où se trouve aussi un coffee shop pour une pause bienvenue. Dans le parc attenant il y a une fontaine qui amuse beaucoup les enfants, avec des jets d'intensité variable !
prévoir un Tshirt de rechange s'il ne fait pas chaud
Les premiers Européens venus s'installer sur ce continent se voyaient, paraît-il, comme les descendants spirituels des Troyens fuyant les hostilités. De là, peut-être, les multiples allusions à l'Antiquité, maisons blanches à larges colonnades, Parthénon de Nashville et cette volonté chère aux Pères Fondateurs de créer une nouvelle Rome. On peut penser que cette même filiation a inspiré le baptême de cette région côtière à l’extrême nord-ouest du pays sous le nom de "Péninsule Olympique" ; un choix logique si l'on songe que le pic culminant du lieu est le Mont Olympe.
Le Pacifique à Rialto Beach, Péninsule Olympique
Un brin de soleil
L'endroit est touristique, mais surtout pour les Américains. Pour nous autres qui venons de l'autre bord de l'Atlantique, les paysages rappelleraient trop l'Europe. C'est en partie exact : on vient dans ce continent pour ce qu'il est capable d’offrir de différent et non pour contempler des paysages alpins ou recouverts de forêts épaisses.
La région n'en reste pas moins étonnante, même pour les ressortissants du Vieux Monde. Les immenses étendues de conifères sont plus impénétrables encore qu'en Forêt Noire, les arbres s'étendent plus haut vers le ciel, et les ténèbres qu'ils imposent à la terre où ils croissent renforcent le sentiment d'étrangeté. A la plage du Rialto, un grondement continu accroche l'oreille. Le Pacifique, dans toute sa puissance, vient briser sa houle sur une côte aux dessins spectaculaires. La mer est hérissée de rochers où poussent contre toute raison des arbres battus par vents et marées. Une mer à l'image de la péninsule, guère hospitalière sans pour autant être déplaisante. Un endroit ténu entre chaleur écrasante et souffles glacés.
La série nommée Twilight - que je n'ai pas lue - se passerait par ici. Sans juger de la qualité de cette histoire de vampires pour ados, je dois reconnaître que l'endroit est bien choisi, pour son ambivalence où la beauté se joint curieusement à un inconfort subtil mais constant.
Route autour de la Péninsule Olympique puis vers le sud vers le mont St. Helens
A trois heures de route au sud se trouve un endroit autrement plus célèbre. En 1980, une montagne explosa, et aujourd'hui on en contemple le gigantesque cratère là où se dessinait un triangle presque parfait. Le Mont St Helens avait fini par s’effondrer sous la poussée de forces cyclopéennes. Les nuées ardentes qui jaillirent alors atteignirent, dit-on, le mur du son. Des forêts furent réduites en cendres et des troncs par milliers furent couchés. On en voit encore aujourd'hui les reliques blafardes. Un lac disparut, transformé en une vague de presque 200 mètres de haut.
Vestiges d'arbres calcinés autour du mont St. Helens
Cette mortelle tourmente fut suivie par une autre explosion. La vie reprit à cet endroit avec une vigueur décuplée. Le documentaire projeté au Johnston Ridge Observatory, au terme d'un chemin sans issue dédié à la montagne devenue volcan, met l'accent sur cette admirable renaissance. C'est bien le moins pour une nation puisant une part de son imaginaire dans l'adoration toute hellénistique du cosmos.
La route menant à l'observatoire du mont St. Helens (Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument)
Renaissance
Vous avez dit Rainier ? Si l'on oublie un instant une certaine Altesse Sérénissime, le nom est familier à tous ceux qui ont été sensibles aux histoires d'OVNI. Car c'est en survolant la région du Mont Rainier que Kenneth Arnold fut en 1947 le témoin d'une scène inouïe. Des objets se déplaçaient dans l'éther à une vitesse inexpliquée, en progressant comme des soucoupes rebondissant sur l'eau. La presse condensa les deux termes de l'observation : on avait vu des soucoupes volantes ! Le mot fit florès, inspira à Ed Wood de redoutables nanars et à Christian Nyby le meilleur des films d'Howard Hawks, affola états-majors et cercles complotistes, et fut à l'origine d'immenses collections de photos authentiquement floues ou nettement truquées.
Beau tableau à défaut d'UFOs
Nulle flying saucer, hélas, dans le ciel azur nimbant les monts enneigés de la Chaîne des Cascades. La route reliant Castle Rock à Yakima est l'une des plus magnifiques expériences qu'il nous ait été donné de faire aux Etats-unis, s'enfonçant dans des forêts épaisses au long de corniches escarpées. On ne peut s'empêcher de songer aux Alpes, mais des Alpes aux contours moins acérés où la force tranquille de la nature pare chaque nouveau panorama.
On s'arrête pour une balade dans le village de Packwood, si quiet dans son écrin de verdure. Une retraitée prend le soleil dans une pinède. Roxanne a quitté l'Orégon pour vivre ici. "C'est calme, on a tout ce qu'il faut. Et il y a plein de belles visites à faire. Vous êtes allés à l'office du tourisme ? Non ? attendez, je dois avoir des cartes chez moi". Comme d'habitude, les Américains ont le contact facile et se réjouissent de rencontrer des Européens. "Vous êtes Français ? Alors pouvez-vous m'expliquer ce que signifie s'il vous plaît ?". On s'exécute. "Ah, d'accord : c'est comme por favor".
Elle tend le bras vers la cime blanche du Mont Rainier. "En hiver il y a de la neige. A peu près comme cela, dit-elle en tenant la main à une quarantaine de centimètres du sol. Mais l'hiver dernier, on a eu deux jours à près d'un mètre".
La White Pass Scenic Byway, Etat de Washington
On quitte la White Pass sans la moindre transition. Il y a trente secondes, les panoramas de haute montagne enchantaient une vue peuplée de conifères centenaires. A présent, des étendues rocailleuses d'où surgissent des buissons secs nous ramènent en terre de westerns. On s'attendrait à voir apparaître Peaux-Rouges ou ventres bleus du haut des crêtes abruptes inondées de soleil. Adieu pays de Heidi, voici celui de Buffalo Bill.
Bonsoir Alain,
Quel plaisir de lire tes carnets ! La composition des photos est comme le style d'écriture : riche, originale, hors du commun... Tu nous transportes dans vos aventures, réflexions et émotions.
Merci.
Bonsoir Alain,
Quel plaisir de lire tes carnets ! La composition des photos est comme le style d'écriture : riche, originale, hors du commun... Tu nous transportes dans vos aventures, réflexions et émotions.
Merci.
Bonjour Guillaume,
Très sympa comme commentaire ! Un grand merci. Si j'arrive à partager le plaisir que j'ai eu à écrire (et à photographier), l'exercice n'aura pas été complètement vain.
Yakima, Wapato, Toppenish... Qui donc irait faire du tourisme dans ces villes de l'Amérique profonde, si loin de la route des voyageurs ? Seul le hasard nous mène ici. De simples étapes utilitaires après la contemplation du Mont St. Helens et la White Pass, dans l'attente du Montana.
Toppenish et sa région
Et pourtant, Toppenish n'est pas sans charme. Son centre ville a tout de la cité pionnière des légendes. On s'étonne presque de l'absence d'abreuvoir pour les chevaux devant boutiques en bois et échoppes de barbiers.
Dans les rues de Toppenish
De larges fresques historiques décorent les murs de la cité. La région, il est vrai, a un passé compliqué. Une guerre fut déclenchée, comme bien des guerres, par un enchaînement de sottises, qui ne sont pourtant que la manifestation tangible de tendances profondes. Des chercheurs d'or sans foi ni loi vinrent prospecter sur la terre des tribus. Deux d'entre eux violèrent une Indienne ; ils furent exterminés. Un inspecteur des Affaires Indiennes vint enquêter et engagea les discussions avec les natifs. Alors qu'il mangeait parmi eux, un chef tribal surgit et lui mit un couteau sous la gorge. "Je suis venu en paix", dit l'Américain. Peine perdue : le chef l'égorgea. Une expédition punitive fut montée ; ainsi commença la guerre Yakima. Elle dura trois ans, de 1855 à 1858, avec son lot de massacres de part et d'autre. Les vaincus furent confinés dans une réserve.
Un Chinois mexicain. Fallait y penser !
C'est ce même territoire, très officiellement indien, où nous logeons aujourd'hui. Le terme de "réserve", suggérant Thoiry, est trompeur : aucun barbelé ne vient délimiter l'endroit, qui n'est défini que par une pancarte neutre à l'orée de la ville, sans que nul autre détail ne puisse éclairer le visiteur non averti.
Mais ce n'est pas l'histoire indienne qui imprègne le lieu. Partout, dans la rue, au magasin, on est frappé par la présence latino-américaine. Au Walmart, le Carrefour américain, l'affichage dans les deux langues est la règle. Même chose à la boutique de fringues ou dans les restos. Des télévisions et radios locales émettent exclusivement en langue espagnole. Comment ! Ici, dans cet Etat de Washington frontalier du Canada, l'immigration hispanique a une telle importance ? Que les Etats du sud soient mêlés de Latino-Américains et que l'espagnol y soit pratiqué comme langue usuelle au même plan que l'anglais n'est pas choquant, et le fait possède une indéniable facette sympathique pour ceux qui, comme moi, ont tant d'affection pour le monde ibéro-américain, sa littérature, sa musique, sa cuisine et ses ressortissants. Mais ici, le constat déconcerte. On se demande par quel mystère une si forte proportion de Latinos a pu venir s'installer si loin au nord, former communauté et bénéficier d'une telle reconnaissance culturelle et linguistique.
Peut-être faut-il voir dans ce phénomène une des explications du vote Trump. L'Etat de Washington a certes choisi Hillary Clinton : on peut se demander à quel point le clientélisme a joué dans ce choix, les Latino-Américains votant très majoritairement Démocrate. Alors, on ne peut s'empêcher de songer aux analyses explosives de Samuel Huntington, l'auteur du Choc des civilisations et de Qui sommes-nous ? L'auteur parle de l'inconciliabilité des civilisations ; la latino-américaine prendrait le pas sur la nord-américaine, dans un mécanisme séparatiste qui vouerait à l'échec tout effort pour permettre une existence partagée dans un espace commun.
Les Américains craindraient-ils, comme d'autres avant eux, d'être confinés dans des réserves, fussent-elles symboliques, au sein de leur propre pays ?
Le Vantage Bridge sur le lac Wanapum, sur la route vers Dry Falls
Wild Horses Monument, en surplomb du lac Wanapum
La présence latino n'est pas le seul motif d'étonnement dans l'état septentrional de Washington. On a beau se trouver à bonne distance des merveilles géologiques de l'Arizona, du Nevada ou de la Californie, nous trouvons ici une nouvelle splendeur de la nature. Les Dry Falls datent de l'âge de glace. Elle ont figé pour l'éternité ce qui fut une cascade gigantesque entourant aujourd’hui des marais où miroitent d'énigmatiques reflets.
Dry Falls, Etat de Washington
Cette splendeur est méconnue, éclipsée par la collection magnifique des panoramas du grand sud. Elle serait une destination de choix dans n'importe quelle contrée, mais ici, à l'écart du tourisme mainstream, elles dorment dans une relative obscurité. Peut-être faut-il s'en féliciter, au vu de la tranquillité de cette contemplation rendue possible par l'absence de meute touristique.
De Toppenish à Spokane en passant par Dry Falls
Avant Spokane
A deux heures de route, vers l'est, voici Spokane. Ce nom ne dit pas grand chose. C'est pourtant la deuxième plus grande ville de l'Etat. Et la cité à l'origine de la fête des pères, à en croire les gens d'ici. On ne dira jamais assez ce que les fabricants de pâte à sel et de papier crépon doivent à Spokane.
Point de chute (heureusement)
La ville, cela dit, est plutôt agréable, passée une immense banlieue terne. Son centre s'organise autour de belles cascades, qu'il est possible de survoler en téléphérique. Des boutiques a priori avenantes, et même une vraie librairie que l'on visite avec ravissement, tant ce genre de commerces est rare dans ce pays. J'achète quelques livres d'occasion sur la seconde guerre mondiale ; je suis curieux de découvrir dans le texte quelques témoignages de héros de la Guerre du Pacifique ou de la Libération.
Grosse louche (en bas)
Centre commercial
Mettez un bison dans votre internet
En ville
Encore un tour aux chutes
L'obsession
Ce havre de culture est naturellement anti-Trump et le fait savoir par un poster parodiant Hulk, le super-héros vert pomme et stupide. Mais la librairie ne s'arrête pas là, elle déclame son amour du genre humain et des différences dans un tract arc-en-ciel qui ravirait le Routard.
Donald Hulk et l'antidote. Enfin...
Nous tombons pendant les célébrations de la Hoopfest, gigantesque tournoi de basket-ball. Toutes les rues du centre sont réquisitionnées pour permettre la tenue de dizaines de parties simultanées, où se produisent pros et amateurs de tout âge.
Bon, tu la passes, la balle ?
Un truc à l'américaine : atmosphère bon enfant, sonos à fond et mauvais goût assumé. Une spectatrice arbore même un tee-shirt où est inscrit le doux nom d'Adolph. Un hommage subtil au regretté Philip Roth, auteur du Complot contre l'Amérique ? On n'ose le croire.
Enfin le Montana ! La longue route depuis Spokane - fort agréable, il faut le dire, mais enfin, bien longue tout de même - nous rapproche des terres intérieures. Sur le trajet, quelques travaux, beaucoup de nature, une ville, Missoula, réputée pour son activité culturelle et son manège à l'ancienne.
Ça tourne à Missoula
De Spokane à Helena
Et enfin l'étape du jour, Helena, capitale d'Etat. Nous prenons possession en cette fin d'après-midi de notre chambre d'hôtel, dans un quartier désert. Pourtant, un regard sur la carte nous enseigne que le Capitole, siège du parlement local, est tout proche. Une courte balade à pied nous y mène. On trouvera sûrement au cœur historique de la cité matière à se détendre avec les gens du coin, dans le giron de quelque troquet accueillant capable d'apporter au voyageur éreinté un bien-être salutaire.
Mon nom est personne
Hélas ! Est-ce vraiment une capitale ? Aucun immeuble élevé ne vient boucher l'horizon, quand on s'attendait à voir le couchant se refléter sur l'arête de gratte-ciels grandioses. Encore mieux, dans cette agglomération toute plate découpée en blocs, nul être humain ne se manifeste. Helena serait-elle une ville fantôme ? J'ai l'impression de me trouver dans La souris qui rugissait, quand les soldats du Duché du Grand Fenwick débarquent dans un New York en alerte nucléaire.
Capitole d'Helena
Voici le Capitole, posé sur un gazon impeccable, solennel et pontifiant dans ses murs en simili-stuc. Seule silhouette humaine à l'horizon, celle d'un héros inconnu juché sur sa monture de pierre. Nous poussons la grande porte : l'édifice est fermé. Bref : pas de gaudriole au Capitole. A deux pas, un énorme crâne occupe la pelouse devant un musée.
Cornes de bouc
Renseignements pris, il s'agit d'une oeuvre d'art. Pourquoi pas ! Mais chez nous, au moins, certaines œuvres d'art sont habitées. Or ici, point d'Abraham, point de cheval. Où sont les gens ? Où est donc l'homme de la rue, dans la cité qui vit naître Gary Cooper ? La ville est-elle donc condamnée au silence en ce dimanche ordinaire ? Si j'avais un million, je quitterais ce jardin du diable. Même Dallas, ville frontière, serait un retour au paradis de cette big country. Ô trains, qui par trois fois siffliez (ou lanciez, c'est égal) votre souffle sauvage à l'approche des carrefours de la ville, avez-vous cédé à la loi du seigneur ?
Les gens, nous les retrouvons le lendemain, pour une expédition navale sur le Missouri. Les Portes des Rocheuses (Gates of the Rocky Mountains) furent ainsi nommée selon le récit de Lewis et Clark. Il n'est peut-être pas inutile de préciser, au vu des réflexions de quelques Français, que ces deux compères ne formèrent pas un couple de comiques, façon Abbott et Costello, et qu'ils n'ont pas davantage de lien avec Superman, Dr Jekyll ou Mr Love. Lewis et Clark étaient deux explorateurs chargés de défricher la route du nord-ouest vers le Pacifique, au tout début du XIXe siècle. Un voyage de deux années, quatre mois et dix jours, dont le récit homérique devait durablement marquer l'imaginaire de la jeune nation.
Gates of the Rocky Mountains, dont les parois s'écartent à mesure qu'on progresse
Le profond canyon que nous visitons aujourd'hui fait partie de la collection de prodiges naturels du continent. Encore un canyon ! Oui, mais cette fois-ci navigable entre deux falaises, sous le vol des pélicans et des aigles pêcheurs. "Il est rare d'en voir, explique le guide. Mais en ce moment, c'est la bonne époque, n'est-ce pas ?". Le 4 juillet approche, et l'allusion patriotique prend toute sa valeur, soulevant l'approbation bruyante d'un public tout conquis. L'histoire de ce pays aurait-elle été différente si l'inoffensif dindon sauvage avait été retenu comme emblème, ainsi que l'avait suggéré Benjamin Franklin ?
Présage du 4 juillet
Sur l'eau
Toujours est-il qu'après les Dry Falls, c'est le deuxième site splendide et méconnu qu'il nous est donné de contempler, tout aussi remarquable que les grands parcs nationaux du sud, fréquentés à satiété.
Coin pic-nic
Et ça continue ! Sur le chemin de Sheridan, Montana, nous faisons un détour pour visiter les Lewis and Clark Caverns. Oui, encore eux. Renseignements pris, ils ne furent pas les découvreurs de cette immense grotte, connue des natifs et explorée la première fois par des blancs à la fin du XIXe.
Route vers les Grottes dites de Lewis & Clark
Entrée du parc
Personne sur la route panoramique encadrée par des contreforts pentus ; sur place, que des Américains. Encore un endroit admirable ignoré par les étrangers. On sait pourquoi : nos guides n'en parlent pas, ou si peu. Manque de curiosité intellectuelle ? A moins que l'on ne juge pas la visite d'une grotte, pour intéressante qu'elle soit, suffisamment digne d'intérêt pour les ressortissants du pays de Padirac. Je ne saurais comparer leurs mérites respectifs et dire si l'Américaine vaut vraiment la visite, mais je peux témoigner de l'ahurissante palette de paysages souterrains offerts par les Lewis & Clark Caverns.
Stupéfiant
Chutes pétrifiées, figures étranges et troublantes formées par des concrétions millénaires, "salles" des merveilles que l'ont rejoint par des boyaux parfois étroits. Il faut s'accroupir çà et là pour cheminer plusieurs mètres dans cet univers pétrifié et humide, prendre soin à ne pas glisser sur la roche insidieuse tout en respectant la consigne ferme de ne pas toucher les stalagmites - comme toujours, les instructions les plus impératives sont données avant la visite par un ranger tout sourire. Et, ce qui ne gâte rien, il faut veiller à murmurer pendant l'exploration, pour ne pas déranger les chauves-souris à grandes oreilles qui ont élu domicile dans cet endroit d'exception.
Où as-tu dégoté un parcours pareil?🤪
Faisait-il chaud pendant votre parcours en été?
En tout cas, voilà qui sort des parcours habituels.... Tu es vraiment original!!
Et à défaut de références musicales qui faisaient frémir doucement mes oreilles, tes références cinématographiques sont savoureuses!!!
Merci de cet agréable intermède qu'on prend plaisir à déguster sans modération.
Eh bien, en partie grâce aux carnets qui ont précédé le mien (merci aux auteurs), et sinon par pure opportunité, sur le chemin de Yellowstone. La grotte Lewis et Clark et Missoula nous ont été suggérés par les gens que nous allions rejoindre à Sheridan.
Faisait-il chaud pendant votre parcours en été?
Plutôt chaud mais avec des coups de frais, vu l'altitude.
En tout cas, voilà qui sort des parcours habituels.... Tu es vraiment original!!
Et à défaut de références musicales qui faisaient frémir doucement mes oreilles, tes références cinématographiques sont savoureuses!!!
Tu parles de cet article ? J'ai moi-même du mal à m'y retrouver dans les références.
Merci de cet agréable intermède qu'on prend plaisir à déguster sans modération.
Oh je n'ai aucun doute à ce sujet....Entre ton carnet et celui de Pegguy vous m'avez redonné le gout d'aller faire des découvertes aux USA!! Merci. Je partirai la-bas fin février... les billets sont pris.
Un état grand comme la moitié de la France et avec autant d'habitants que la seule ville de Marseille. On n'en finit pas de traverser le Montana, filant sur des plateaux déserts encadrés par des sommets lardés de longues coulées de neige. Le soleil donne à plein, mais dans l'air raréfié des hauteurs, ces congères coriaces défient l'été. Nous croisons fréquemment des pancartes qui indiquent plus de 9000 pieds, soit 2700 mètres environ.
The Big Country
Plateau
Nous retrouvons à Sheridan John et Barbara, que nous avions rencontrés l'an passé à Nashville. Ils nous font visiter la région.
Sheridan
NRA : National Rodeo Association
Dans la ville d'Ennis, un spectacle de rodéo attire tous les habitants du coin. Un vrai rodéo, pas l'attraction plan-plan de Forth Worth. Un cow-boy doit mettre à terre un petit taureau à la seule force de ses bras, en empoignant les deux cornes pour forcer l'animal à se tordre jusqu'à perdre l'équilibre. Pas gagné d'avance : la plupart des tentatives échouent.
L'art de créer des liens
Mais il existe encore des cow-boys ? "Ce sont des gens d'ici, d'habitude ils sont employés de bureaux, avocats, etc., expliquent nos hôtes. Il s'occupent du bétail pendant leur temps libre. C'est encore eux qui en ont la meilleure connaissance". On se dit que les avocats français ont certainement des loisirs plus sereins. D'autres s'emploient à manier le lasso pour capturer le cheptel. Les plus téméraires s'efforcent de conserver leur place sur le dos de bêtes furieuses. Les seuls qui réussissent ont l'art de se transformer pendant les interminables huit secondes de l'épreuve en pantin désarticulé capable d'encaisser toutes les ruades des bestiaux.
Prête pour aller danser
On vient en famille, l'audience siffle sa joie et ne ménage pas ses applaudissements, même quand les candidats mordent la poussière. Et ils la mordent souvent. Les spectateurs portent de grands chapeaux et des chemises brodées. "Pas mal de gens ne sont pas d'ici, souligne John. Depuis quelques années les Californiens viennent s'installer dans le coin. Ils vendent leur appartement pour s'acheter au Montana des grandes propriétés. On les reconnaît à leur habillement fantaisiste". Je ne vois rien de vraiment fantaisie dans l'accoutrement de ces gens, mais je comprends l'idée. Le Montana reste fidèle à une tradition pionnière. Porter le chapeau et la ceinture western n'est pas ici une posture : il s'agit du vécu le plus banal. Aussi, la chasse au gros gibier est un loisir courant. "Je prends parfois les chevaux pour partir plusieurs jours dans la montagne, dit John. Il m'arrive de chasser élans et wapitis. En cas de danger, je peux tirer sur un ours. Mon père m'a appris à manier le fusil, et j'ai éduqué ainsi mes enfants".
Enfant au drapeau
Son fils a travaillé dans la marine américaine. Et je me souviens que l'homme qui a abattu Ben Laden venait aussi de cet état. "Les enfants, on leur apprend à tirer sur des gophers", dit-il en désignant ce qui ressemble à un gros hamster sur le bord de la chaussée. Comme quoi on peut commencer à buter des rongeurs pour finir par dégommer l'ennemi public numéro 1.
Défilé du 4 juillet
Tifs patriotes
"Si quelqu'un a soif, qu'il vienne à moi, et qu'il boive."
La fête nationale donne lieu à une parade avec les gens du coin. Pas de flon-flon ou de défilé militaire : les gens ordinaires, associations et commerces parent leur véhicule de rouge et bleu et circulent lentement en ville en distribuant friandises et boissons. On me met en main une bouteille d'eau. Son étiquette dit : "Si quelqu'un a soif, qu'il vienne à moi, et qu'il boive." La citation de l'évangile de Jean est suivie par l'adresse d'une église. Fallait y penser.
Bigfoot avec nous
Attrape-moi si tu peux !
Assistance enthousiaste mais pas foldingue, au sein d'une déferlante de bannières étoilées. La célébration a tout d'une sincère réjouissance. C'est la fête aux revendeurs de tracteurs, aux vétérans du Vietnam ou de Corée, aux églises, aux hôpitaux pour enfants. Tous défilent pêle-mêle et soulèvent les mêmes vivats d'une foule heureuse de célébrer les opérations caritatives ou commerciales des gens du coin.
Donnez-moi madame s'il vous plaît...
Feu d'artifice le soir même, au cœur de l'obscurité. L'absence de toute pollution lumineuse, en ce lieu si loin de la moindre métropole, rend visible tous les détails de la Voie Lactée. Rien à voir avec la gigantesque pyrotechnie symphonique de Nashville. Seules les exclamations des gens du coin accompagnent un spectacle tout simple, à l'échelle d'un 14 juillet dans une de nos villes de province.
Superman en pyjama (exclusif)
Sur leurs grands chevaux
Je m'attendais à trouver dans ce pays de rednecks des gamins tarés à l'image du joueur de banjo de Délivrance, ou des dégénérés consanguins comme les films d'horreur nous en servent tant. Des fous de Dieu brandissant leur fusil en invoquant leur soutien à la NRA. Des pro-life fiers d'avoir voté Trump. A la place de quoi j'ai découvert des villages impeccables, des habitants polis et souriants, épris de liberté, scrupuleux au point de de rien nous asséner de leurs convictions que l'on devine si opposées aux nôtres. De sincères amoureux de la nature en dépit de leur passion pour la chasse. Ceux qui ont lu Jack London comprendront.
Cowboys welcome - Cowgirls too
Plat national
Ex-engagé
A Ennis
Avant notre départ de France, j'avais noté qu'en date du 4 juillet nous serions dans le Montana. Le titre de l'article que je devais écrire à cette occasion s'était naturellement imposé : fantasia chez les ploucs. Je me régalais par avance de la galerie de crétins que j'allais pouvoir observer en ce haut lieu de l'obscurantisme. C'était sans compter sur l'amicale bienveillance des gens du Montana, et le soin apporté à toute chose pour rendre l'existence agréable. Je comprends à présent la stupidité de mon préjugé.
Bonjour,
Ta photo " Veteran owned business" me rappelle un souvenir du Wyoming, qui n'est pas très loin. Nous étions à Cheyenne pour les Frontier's Days et, les campings traditionnels alentours étant tous pleins, nous avons passé 2 jours dans un champ mis à disposition par une famille. Nous avions discuté un bon moment avec eux, c'étaient une famille de militaires, le père, puis maintenant les enfants, un des fils allait être déployé en Irak ( c'était en 2009, en est il revenu?), la fille basée à Ramstein, un autre fils s'engageait à l'automne. Bref, ils nous expliqué que passer par l'armée valait tous les diplômes et une fois démobilisé, était un gage d'engagement dans n'importe quel entreprise, car les vétérans, jouissant d'une excellente réputation de fiabilité, droiture, et d'adhésion aux valeurs américaines fondamentales, cela pousse les employeurs à les préférer, quitte à les former ensuite dans leur nouvelle profession.
Bonjour,
Ta photo " Veteran owned business" me rappelle un souvenir du Wyoming, qui n'est pas très loin. Nous étions à Cheyenne pour les Frontier's Days et, les campings traditionnels alentours étant tous pleins, nous avons passé 2 jours dans un champ mis à disposition par une famille. Nous avions discuté un bon moment avec eux, c'étaient une famille de militaires, le père, puis maintenant les enfants, un des fils allait être déployé en Irak ( c'était en 2009, en est il revenu?), la fille basée à Ramstein, un autre fils s'engageait à l'automne. Bref, ils nous expliqué que passer par l'armée valait tous les diplômes et une fois démobilisé, était un gage d'engagement dans n'importe quel entreprise, car les vétérans, jouissant d'une excellente réputation de fiabilité, droiture, et d'adhésion aux valeurs américaines fondamentales, cela pousse les employeurs à les préférer, quitte à les former ensuite dans leur nouvelle profession.
Très intéressant, merci pour le complément. Dans notre cas, le fils vétéran n'a pas abordé le sujet, mais nous a raconté sa stupéfaction en débarquant en Corée du Sud, devant une foule hostile et vociférante, alors qu'il s'attendait à voir les gens les accueillir en protecteurs amicaux.
L'image de l'Amérique est vraiment quelque chose de particulier, même parmi ses alliés officiels.
L'accumulation de beautés naturelles ne finit-elle pas par lasser ? Après tant de gorges encaissées, parcourues ou non par des flots vifs, de cascades sèches ou humides, de déserts rocailleux, gorgés de soleil, recouverts de forêts pétrifiées ou de cactus imprécateurs, quel genre de panorama peut-il encore flatter le regard et l'âme ?
Yellowstone depuis Sheridan, Montana
La réponse se trouve à Yellowstone. Jadis, un volcan s'y effondra sous son propre poids. Désormais le magma affleure sous une mince couche de terre. De là des phénomènes hors du commun, que jamais le regard d'un homme n'était censé contempler. Des jets sulfureux surgissent de terre, de façon imprévisible ou suivant un agenda scrupuleux. De simples prairies où des chaudrons bouillonnants exhalent des bouffées de gaz. Des marmites de boue débordent de coulées ocres ou jaunâtres. Des théories de fumerolles vous entourent comme l'on fait naguère les flammèches autour du chasseur maudit. C'est à la fois le Pic de Dante, Stromboli et cramé contre cramé.
Ça bout de souffle
Domaine de l'ocre
Visiter cette cuisine du Diable n'est pas sans risque. Les sentiers sont posés sur des passerelles de bois, sans quoi le pied risquerait de s'enfoncer dans un torrent de lave. Se baigner dans certains lacs, c'est envisager un destin de homard. Il arriva qu'un intrépide voulût observer de près ce combat des quatre éléments. De cet Empédocle de week-end, on ne retrouva guère qu'une tong abandonnée au bord d'un cratère irradiant un azur irréfutable. L'acide avait fait le reste, et Yellowstone digéré celui qui osa défier la nature.
Beau et mortel
Coulées douces
Boue létale
L'une de mes histoires préférées est celle d'une simple mare d'eau chaude, que voulurent exploiter des hommes au début du XXe siècle. Comment résister à l'offrande d'une telle chaudière ? Ils employèrent un simple tuyau pour récupérer le précieux liquide. Mais la nature ne l'entendit pas ainsi : diminuée de quelques centimètres, la mare pacifique se transforma en geyser impétueux. Les hommes, penauds d'avoir entrouvert cette boîte de Pandore, défirent à la hâte leur installation et rendirent au cratère l'eau qu'ils lui avaient soutirée. En vain. L'esprit sorti de l'Enfer refusa de quitter la surface de la terre. Même rendue à son niveau original, la mare devait désormais manifester son courroux jaillissant. On en admire aujourd'hui encore les éclats turbulents au Solitary Geyser.
Au cœur de Yellowstone
Les éléments ne sont pas les seuls dangers du lieu. Des troupeaux de bisons occupent des terrains entiers, en totale liberté. Ils traversent la chaussée quand bon leur semble. Le code de la route local leur donne entière priorité sur les voitures. D'où des bison jams, ou embouteillages à bisons, assez fréquents. Quand l'un de ces bestiaux choisit de piquer un roupillon sur le bitume, rien à faire. Klaxonner est interdit. Des centaines d'autos attendent alors que le bovidé daigne s'installer ailleurs.
Placide au gros museau
Il est évidemment tentant de descendre pour aller titiller cette grosse vache poilue. Mauvaise idée, le gros pépère peut vous prendre en grippe et vous encorner au gré d'une course à 50 à l'heure, avant de finir le boulot en vous piétinant. Certains mauvais coucheurs, rendus téméraires par la fréquentation assidue des Buffalo Grill, ont accompli leur séjour sous forme de steak tartare. Alors, on attend. Avec philosophie : après tout, c'est la version locale des incidents voyageurs du RER A.
D'abord, je passe. Après, on verra.
Une autre cause d'embouteillage est l'ours. Non, celui-ci ne dort pas sur la route. Mais quand un automobiliste a le bonheur d'en apercevoir un, il s'arrête aussitôt, suivi par la ribambelle d'autres observateurs ébahis. On reconnaît un bouchon à ours à la présence de rangers, ordonnant aux gens de ne pas s'approcher et surtout de ne pas courir. La distance de sécurité est établie à 91 mètres. Pourquoi 91 ? Parce que c'est la conversion dans le système métrique de la mesure de 100 yards. Bon, normalement c'est 91 virgule 44, mais on n'a pas envie de chipoter avec un ranger sang et eau lançant de sourds "don't run !" à des touristes hilares brandissant leurs smartphones.
Touchez pas au grizzli
Car il y a du monde à Yellowstone. Beaucoup de monde, des Chinois, des Pakistanais, des Français. Et comme toute cette foule se retrouve au même moment au même endroit, il faut parfois attendre pour trouver une place de parking. C'est l'endroit le plus fréquenté que nous ayons vu dans les parcs américains, davantage encore qu'au Grand Canyon. Fâcheux ? Sans aucun doute. De nature à amoindrir l'enthousiasme de cette découverte ? Certainement pas.
Une fois le sommet atteint, la longue redescente s'impose. Phase obligée et parfois déprimante. Pour nous, elle s'apparente à un retour vers le Pacifique, jusqu'à la cité d'Oakland. Mais un retour ponctué d'étapes utilitaires - nous voici de nouveau dans l'Amérique hors des guides.
Entre Yellowstone et Bellevue, Idaho
Revoici donc le Montana et une ville nommée Dillon, si loin du train-train des voyageurs. Un endroit d'emblée accueillant, alignant boutiques au service des passions premières de la région - la chasse et la pêche.
Un drôle de supermarché pour cow-boys attire notre attention. Nous y entrons : c'est une sorte de Bricorama où les tondeuses à gazon sont remplacées par des selles de cheval, les rouleaux à peinture par des balles de fusil et le rayon sanitaires par une galerie de Stetsons.
Le Montana a d'incroyables talons
On trouve même des produits pour l'arrière-train, servis par un visuel aussi vulgaire qu'explicite. Mais on peut le comprendre, le métier de garçon vacher a ses côtés sombres. Pardon pour les admirateurs de la Chevauchée fantastique, mais si ça se trouve, même John Wayne devait soigner ses miches.
Monkey business
Dillon by night
Centre ville
Place publicitaire
Tous en selle
Sur la route
Avant de quitter Dillon, nous dînons au Sparky's Garage, suivant les conseils de nos amis de Sheridan. Contre toute attente, c'est fabuleux. Pour une fois, c'est de la cuisine américaine inventive et dosée avec goût. Je savoure une extraordinaire salade avocat-fraise-poulet sur tapis de laitue et couronne le tout d'une lime pie aussi savoureuse qu'à Key West. Par-dessus le marché, pour un prix très raisonnable, et parmi une clientèle strictement locale.
Sur le chemin de l'Idaho, l'état fier de ses patates, nous croisons le panorama lunaire de Craters of the Moon. Des scories noires à perte de vue n'en finissent pas d'accrocher l’œil. Encore le fait de volcans, mais avec un résultat tout à l'opposée de Yellowstone. On chercherait en vain par ici des chaudrons infernaux aux fragrances d’œufs pourris jouxtant de verdoyantes pairies bisonnantes. L'endroit peut séduire cependant : en dépit de son éloignement de tout, les visiteurs sont là, attirés par des randonnées au sein de ces écorchures telluriques.
Craters of the Moon
Notre destination du jour : Bellevue, dans l'Idaho. Encore un nom français, comme on en voit tant par ici : Dubois, Nez Percé, et peut-être Grand Teton, chose que certains entêtés aiment à soutenir. Mais pourquoi Bellevue, qui d'ailleurs ne se prononce pas du tout Bellevue ? Parce que c'est le seul endroit où nous ayons pu dénicher un hôtel abordable. Contre toute attente, la région est courue par du beau monde. Dans la Sun Valley toute proche se réunissait le gratin de la scène américaine - Eroll Flynn, Gary Copper, Marylin Monroe, pas mal d'autres vedettes et quelques Kennedy. On avait fait de cette vallée encaissée entre des monts drus une station de sports d'hiver, qui devait persévérer dans sa vocation pour gens de la haute. La Sun Valley offre désormais toute la panoplie des attractions pour villégiateurs bobos et fortunés, maisons de haute couture, cafés bios et restos sélect.
Hemingway Memorial
La face du grand homme
Monument à l’écrivain
Une chose cependant rend l'endroit attachant. Hemingway y avait ses habitudes. Ici, il acheva Pour qui sonne le glas, avant de faire sonner le glas pour sa propre personne. Un petit mémorial baigné par un ruisseau lui rend hommage en pleine nature. Sa tombe, à quelques kilomètres de là dans le cimetière de Ketchum, est plus difficile à dénicher. Elle se trouve dans un coin ombragé, recouverte d'offrandes de circonstance : bonnes bouteilles, articles de pêche et tapis de pièces de monnaie. Sans doute en évocation de l'unique sou qu'il put sortir de ses poches à Key West, en réponse à son épouse d'alors qui avait fait creuser une piscine pharaonique. Mais Ernest en avait : il devait bien vite remonter la pente pour atteindre d'autres sommets.
"Les conducteurs doivent se préparer à effectuer des manœuvres de dernière minute. La conduite est généralement plus rapide et plus agressive qu'aux États-Unis."
Les conseils aux voyageurs dispensés par le gouvernement américain aux futurs visiteurs de la France caractérisent par défaut la façon de conduire au States : une philosophie de la route qui fait d'un déplacement un simple moment de la journée comme un autre, un espace de temps à part entière où engueulades et coups de sang sont hors de propos. On s'installe au volant comme dans son salon. La circulation, loin des grandes métropoles, est une opération sereine où nul stress ne vient s'inviter.
Go west
Le cliché des grands espaces prend toute sa dimension dans la campagne. L'horizon grand ouvert offre une nature à perte de vue. Nous traçons une route au long cours dans un océan minéral seulement bordé par des cordillères lointaines ou la rotondité de l'horizon. Un capitaine au long cours ne doit pas éprouver autre chose du haut de la dunette.
Il est toutefois facile de se laisser abuser par le ruban noir filant droit vers l'infini. Le conducteur désœuvré doit dès lors se garder du gibier pouvant surgir à l'improviste : sans doute le plus grand danger par ici, accentué par le doux confort d'une conduite placide assistée par le régulateur de vitesse.
De Bellevue à Boise
M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank, Elmore County, à 1h de Boise
Après Bellevue et la Sun Valley, cap sur la capitale de l'Idaho. Seuls les candidats à Question pour un champion, j'imagine, peuvent citer spontanément son nom : Boise. Evidemment prononcé à la sauce locale, à savoir "boïssi".
Capitole de Boise
Cloche de la Liberté, en réplique
C'est vrai qu'il fait beau ici. Après Helena, la morte-vivante, nous retrouvons enfin une cité qui tient son rang. On n'échappe certes pas à l'inamovible capitole d'état écrasant de solennité, devant lequel une réplique parfaite de la Liberty Bell philadelphienne a été exposée. Mais les rues alentours sont garnies de petits commerces où l'animation fait plaisir à voir. Atmosphère tout en politesses et bien comme il faut. Un peu trop lisse peut-être : nous ne sommes plus chez les cow-boys.
Une croix basque à l'entrée du quartier
Nous serions en vérité bien davantage chez les Basques. La ville rend un hommage appuyés à ces voyageurs qui contribuèrent à l'histoire de l'Amérique en général, depuis l'odyssée de la Santa Maria, et au développement de cette région en particulier.
Stars, stripes et Euskadi
Pavés de noms (pas trouvé le mien)
"Les Basques étaient durs à la tâche, obstinés, capables de s'investir dans des tâches ingrates", nous apprend le Basque Museum & Cultural Center. Il fallait du caractère pour venir s'installer dans cette région inhospitalière, alors désertique et pleine de périls. Leur abnégation valut aux Basques une juste reconnaissance. Ils devaient former une partie intégrante de la nation américaine, tout en se souvenant de leur héritage européen - surtout de la péninsule ibérique, il faut le dire, les régions basques françaises ne sont qu'évoquées en passant.
Ornements qui collent (aux basques)
Le petit musée est très bien fait, avec une exposition d'antiques photographies de Basques d'ici ou d'Europe rendues en trois dimensions. Nous n'échappons pas à la galerie patriotique des Américanos-Basques qui s’illustrèrent pendant les différents conflits, présentée au son du générique de Brothers in arms.
Fresque commémorative du peuple basque
Armoire électrique
Le petit quartier basque, une ville dans la ville, se visite avec plaisir. Une fresque murale rappelle l'histoire de ce peuple en quelques images. Sur un trottoir, nous croisons un type coiffé du traditionnel béret. Il est en train de faire mijoter une généreuse paella dans une large poêle. Pas un plat basque, il est vrai, mais dans un pays qui entretien des rapports très particuliers avec la gastronomie, une telle occasion ne se loupe pas. Crevettes, riz et petits légumes seront pour une fois notre ordinaire du jour.
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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.