It's tough to find a fresh topic since so many themes have already been covered, so this one is intentionally narrow to highlight the photo—inspired by a recent visit ;)

**Participation** Each VF member can submit up to 3 photos, until **Saturday, January 25 at 11:59 PM Paris time**. Each photo must be posted in a separate message, with its number (1, 2, or 3). Don’t forget to add a little explanation (comment, location, etc.).

**Voting:** Each VF member can vote for the 3 photos they think are the best, based on their own criteria and the theme.

Voting runs from **Sunday, January 26 to Friday, January 31 at 11:59 PM Paris time**.

Photos should be ranked in order of preference: - 1st photo: 3 points - 2nd photo: 2 points - 3rd photo: 1 point

The winner is the photographer whose photo earns the most points.

Results will be announced on **February 1**. In case of a tie, the number of first-place votes will decide. The winner gets the honor of organizing February’s contest.

For discussion about the contest, check the thread: https://voyageforum.com/forum/discussion-falaises-monde-concours-janvier-2025-d10659248/

(Big thanks to Raga and unamilanese—I just did a copy-paste 😎)

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

Thursday, November 2, 2023 Lake Argyle – Katherine

We had a great time. Now we’ve got to pay the price. We’re down one stop before Katherine. Gotta do the whole trip in one go—6 hours of driving. Let’s go! We’re a bit low on fuel with only 300 kilometers of range. The only station at the lake doesn’t open until 9 a.m., and the next (and only) one is 227 kilometers away… Should we risk it? Except for a magnificent frilled-neck lizard darting across the road on its big hind legs and an emu quickly disappearing into the bush, we didn’t see much. Oh—there was also a donkey, lost and panicked in the middle of the road… A quiet road with some beautiful scenery, some worrying bushfires

and a few opportunities to stop for a "warrior’s rest" (never go beyond the first second of the thought that starts drifting off the road…) We cross an invisible border as we enter the Northern Territory, which comes with consequences—we immediately lose an hour and a half by changing time zones. The speed limit goes from 110 to 130.

We arrive at the self check-in in Katherine. As usual, we’re a little taken aback at first. The noise, for starters. There’s a group rehearsing, it seems. We go check it out. We pass through the doors separating "The Stuart" from the adjoining bar and stumble upon what feels like collective hysteria. Turns out, it’s a concert. Aboriginal musicians completely fired up by some incredible music! There are just three of them, but they’re delivering a wall of sound that reminds us of South Africa’s finest neo-techno with a trance-like vibe. The crowd is wild! They’re singing in unison, screaming with joy. We get gently kicked out by security because we’re carrying our groceries, and they’re not having it. We promise ourselves we’ll come back once we’ve put them away in our little fridge.

Then we land. We end up finding plenty of nice things. It’s very possible we’ll like this place!

We head back to enjoy our post-battle Happy Hour. The concert’s over, but the crowd’s still riding the high. It’s indescribable. People are shouting across the room, screaming just for the fun of it—men and women alike. There’s pool, some beat-up arcade games being shaken like coconut trees. Dom and I feel like anthropologists. We’re pretty blown away. It’s epic! And the beer’s half the price it is elsewhere! We’ll definitely be back—that’s for sure!

We give up on finding a restaurant. Not sure they even exist, at least not this season. So, we’ve got a microwave—we eat at home on our little terrace, with a musical accompaniment from a massive orchestra of birds. It sounds amazing!

An 80-Day Tour of Southern Africa

Back in South Africa

January 12, 2013, 5:30 AM, Flight BA043 London-Cape Town

Directly below, Windhoek glittered like a tangle of fairy lights still lit and tossed into a box.

The horizon, edged in purple, was setting up a backup fireworks display, and suddenly, like a cherry on the platter and with unbearable intensity, in less than two minutes the entire sun revealed a gray dam and then a vast, untouched massif.

A few more minutes and the glare to the east of the plane was total. In Africa, the sun is swift.

We still had a France to cross before landing, but it felt as if we were already there. To the west, the raking light revealed what looked like acne and long, swollen scars in a desert region that might be the Swartkloofberg. Further still, straight as far as the eye could see, the two parallel tracks of a dirt road.

At 11,500 meters altitude and 940 km/h, we had a sense of stillness until the Orange River appeared, an incongruous serpent, gray edged with green.

The first South African settlements were dotted with trees providing shade, then rivers highlighted by continuous lines of vegetation.

Water and shade that make life possible.

We’ll return here by the backroads.

Half an hour from Cape Town, the plane tilted toward the sea, crossing plantations (likely citrus) and then an explosion of cultivated greenery in circles on either side of an unruly river. Finally, the coastline was no longer just sand and water—a frothy hem, a suture?

A peninsula came into view, forming two magnificent bays, and... a flight attendant firmly instructed me to return to my seat: we’d arrived!

The Colors of Cape Town

The city was dressed up as I like them—deserted, fluid, free of its vendors.

In the parking lot of the endless beach next to the commercial port north of the city, about two hundred people were unloading their goods in front of their pickups or combis, none of which were from this century: mixed-race, ageless Black people, and white folks who looked like they’d stepped out of another era.

After a few minutes, intrigued, I played a game: first looking at the merchandise, then imagining who was selling it, and finally looking at who was actually manning the stall. Tall Black vendors were selling what they often sell in Europe—leather, sunglasses, watches; mixed-race folks offered discount bundles, and the tanned older white people seemed to have emptied their attics.

We left with an antique tin kettle for morning tea over an open fire, a pack of five exercise books (that’s 600 pages to fill), Bill Bryson’s earliest stories in English, some snoek rillettes (a local fish), and—never seen before—tuna biltong and snoek biltong.

In so-called advanced countries, Sunday is for sports: white cyclists dressed like pros sweating diligently, Black street vendors running in loops at red lights to sell trash bags that day; white golfers losing their balls, which a scantily clad Black man retrieves from the water; under the sails of kite surf boards, it’s all blondes, and in the foam, joyful splashes from a bunch of Black kids.

Searching for an unusual spot for lunch, we drove through the fishing port looking for a dive and, at the end of a dead-end road with no warning, we arrived at the Shimmy Beach Club—quite the program.

The place, open for just three weeks, aims to be ultra-trendy. You could be in San Francisco, Lisbon’s docks, or St. Barth. This time, the "visible" staff was diverse, but the clientele was exclusively white, except for one mixed-race couple.

For this Sunday lunch, the women had pulled out all the stops, and local starlets—who’d make ours look tame—were turning the terrace into a frenzy.

At Cape Town’s port, the girls have *port*. The trend seems to be crochet dresses over swimsuits.

For two hours, a team of employees watered and raked the sand, starting over when they finished. A child in a floaty pink dress and a gold headband, but a future adventurer, stepped onto the freshly raked artificial beach sand for the first time.

A lanky mixed-race man dragged a hose across the ground, followed by a white woman—enchanted?—who then started watering the sand herself, carelessly splashing the glass terrace her colleague had just swept. I suspect a tacit work arrangement to keep everyone employed.

A galleon packed with tourists (are there any in the hold? Does it take tourists to Robben Island?) left the port. A helicopter took off in its wake. Trawlers returned, cutting through a ballet of catamarans, their waterlines well above the water: a bad catch.

If there’s one country where you can’t pretend to ignore skin color, it’s this one. The question is in everyone’s mind, and here more than anywhere else, it’s a decisive economic and political factor.

Columbine of Brittany

200 km north of Cape Town and 9,000 km south of the Breton coast, but on the same cold ocean, we camped on the shore of the Columbine Cape Nature Reserve, sheltered by a rocky chaos that, at first light tomorrow, would transport us to Perros-Guirec.

Our first encounter with wild animals wouldn’t end well for them: it was crayfish season, and they were the size of lobsters at Lorient’s fish market. Bought for R60 (5.5 €) a pair from kids in Pater Noster, they’d end up between two rocks, over a fire. But first, we had to pair the Chenin blanc with some snoek biltong.

With no wood, I lit a fire at dawn with dried seaweed and kelp, as if petrified; it gave off a smell of court-bouillon and... tires. Two hundred fathoms away, on an outpost, an army of cormorants stood at attention, unmoved among the frolicking seals.

At the reserve’s exit, the guard spoke French; Patrick Mwanba had arrived from Congo three years earlier to study, but the cost of living here forced him to drop out. He’d like to return home because life is cheaper there, but the war made him hesitate.

Ding ding dong! Vroom! Arf arf, Woof! Buzz! (A night from hell!)

I’d long planned to visit Calvinia, the center of a region known for extensive sheep farming. An excellent provincial museum, run by an enthusiastic curator, kept us too late to start the drive north.

So we camped in a tiny, charming campsite set up in the garden of a house. A few trees, a patch of resilient grass, and a view of a pretty lit-up steeple—what else?

Well, it turned out to be a sound-and-light show, with the pretty steeple chiming the hours and half-hours. Then suddenly, we were in the VIP stands of the Karoo-Kalahari Truck Race: roaring trucks paraded under our canvas windows, and we realized we were on the main road through town. To top it off, we enjoyed an uninterrupted canine cacophony, from the *arf arf* of little dogs to the *woof* of a mastiff. Oh, and some mosquitoes—the first ones—insisted on keeping us company in the tent, and we hadn’t yet bought the arsenal to neutralize them.

I walked through Calvinia at night; the house gardens weren’t fenced, nor did they have the «Armed Response» signs so common in the country.

The Kalahari Trails

(No, no, I haven’t converted to hiking.)

North of Calvinia, in the south of the Northern Cape, small towns follow one another up to Upington, about a hundred kilometers apart—welcome havens. Between them, with no trees in sight, we stopped in the shade of a motionless cloud: the temperature exceeded 40°C in mid-January.

We were almost out of the High Karoo and into a region of pans drying up, until the first red dunes appeared, precursors of the Kalahari. In the sparse veld vegetation, gatherings of quiver trees in the kopjes, and a caravan of camels without a handler or packs, marching in perfect formation across a pan (no, I hadn’t overdone the Windhoek at the last stop, and no, I wasn’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate).

The historic part of these towns, European in style, was built on the same plans as those in the American Midwest or the Australian Outback: a grid of streets wide enough to turn a wagon pulled by eight pairs of oxen. The architecture was Dutch-inspired, tropicalized with awnings.

Then came more recent housing, functional in style, where the wealthier mixed-race people—who make up the majority of this state—lived, and further on, the township, an assemblage of corrugated iron and plastic, like everywhere else.

Orange, Right Bank

North of Augrabies Falls National Park, on the other side of the Orange River, stretches a rugged and wild territory the size of fifty Groix islands, crisscrossed by a few tracks—the Riemvasmaak.

The inhabitants were driven out half a century ago for a military base, and as soon as President Mandela was elected, he made it a symbol by allowing the exiled populations to return. Several ethnic groups live here on almost nothing, in government-built shacks.

A community camp is set up in a small cirque at the end of a canyon that, while not in the history books, offers a good descent. By mid-afternoon, the air was at 44°C, but luckily there was a spring... except it was a hot spring, with water at 38°C. And they haven’t invented a reversible spring yet. Once the birds and baboons had settled in, in absolute silence and far from any light pollution, we enjoyed the stars like nowhere else (well, that’s what they claim in the region).

The Orange didn’t choose the easy path: arriving from Lesotho, it was almost at the ocean. The terrain to the south and north of this massif seemed easier to cross. Was it to avoid the curse of the Okavango, whose waters disappear into the sands without ever seeing the sea, that it chose this rocky route, thinking that at least the granite wouldn’t steal its water?

I Love You, I Eat You

In the dry bed of the Auob, it lay panting, head raised, alert, between its paws but head-to-tail, a tawny springbok, motionless.

A few minutes earlier, their story had been written in a lightning-fast chase, captured in photos by the driver of the car that alerted us.

It would be a long time before it started eating at the groin without breaking its surveillance.

Earlier, there was a lion lounging in the shade and hundreds of antelopes: springboks and gemsboks (oryx) in herds, hartebeests and steenboks alone. Strange pairs, apart several times, formed by a springbok and a gemsbok.

A few solitary jackals moved slightly sideways, looking furtive. Ostriches, alone, looking a bit dazed.

It was a lucky morning in the Kgalagadi (KTP).

In and Out

Kgalagadi, Nossob Camp.

We were at the very end of the almost-empty camp, ten meters from the fence, whose structure wouldn’t resist an elephant (though there aren’t any here), but it was electrified.

At dusk, on the other side, ten meters away, three lions passed in a row, as if on parade, seemingly focused on their goal and indifferent to the camp, though they glanced at it.

A jackal had gotten into the camp and was trying to get out without success while scavenging. I offered it two pieces of snoek biltong (Don’t feed the animals!) from three meters away—it smelled strong and had bones (bones in biltong!). When it passed by again, it sniffed but didn’t dare approach. Curled up in the chair, motionless, by the faint moonlight, I finally saw it come closer, grab the nearest piece, and move ten meters away to enjoy it (how many jackals know the finer points of sea biltong?). A little reassured, it came back for the second piece.

Another Morning

By morning, the jackal was gone, but our luck hadn’t left us. Two cheetahs again, who found me in the way and slowly moved toward a calmer shadow. Enough birds of prey to form a squadron, but they’re solitary hunters. Two ostriches busy with their dozen unruly chicks. And while we’re at it, a group of four Kalahari lions, sprawled under a thorny bush. Lots of oryx crossing the dunes and herds of red hartebeest. Kori bustards and secretary birds.

It was the first time the Kgalagadi had spoiled us so much.

Hello everyone,

I’m not really a regular contributor to VoyageForum, but every time Kate and I travel, she encourages me to write a travel journal and publish it. And I must admit, it’s a very enjoyable intellectual exercise, though not always easy. As a VF contributor whose journals I’ve read once said, this retrospective work not only helps preserve memories but also provides a fruitful moment of introspection by bringing back emotions and feelings.

Kate and I spent a week in Istanbul. For her, who had already visited, it was a return; for me, it was a discovery.

As we’ve now made a habit of, I write the texts, and she posts her photos. We hope this illustrated story, crafted together, will revive beautiful sensations for those who know the city and inspire others to discover it. Here we go!

Preamble

June 2024. While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way. The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km. It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.



In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?

And the answers? Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan. Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable. But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give. Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom. A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain. But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.

Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing. And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality. When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual. No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.

This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.

Now, all that was left was to walk. April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.

I’d heard—and rightly so—about the incredible kindness of Taiwanese people. I had just spent a few weeks in Korea, a country of teddy bears, where the locals loved telling me about a place full of… more teddy bears. It was going in circles.

So I arrived in Taipei with stars in my eyes, ready to face all that generosity. Yet, surprisingly, the guard posted in front of the presidential palace wasn’t exactly courteous. And then, the countless military vehicles really struck me. Have you ever seen a teddy bear driving a tank?

I spent most of my evenings in a bar along a very large avenue. I’d go alone and always find company—men, women, it didn’t matter as long as I could blend into this new country, discover its people, their culture, their history.

The heat made me sweat nonstop, my beard had grown back, I was wearing a black T-shirt as worn-out as possible, and my face bore the marks of several months in Russia and Korea. In short, I looked like the perfect globetrotter—the kind I’d probably dreamed of being as a kid.

So there I was, sitting at the bar, deep in conversation with a Taiwanese friend, when a fight broke out between an Italian and an American—two drunk, stupid beasts. Shouting, shoving, we kicked them out. Well, *we* didn’t. My friend didn’t move; I was the only one who reacted, letting my temper get the better of me. He looked at me and said, without malice, that white guys had also fought two days earlier. I turned my head toward the room—I was the only foreigner. I was used to it, but tonight was different. The looks in the mirror were full of distrust. I felt like an idiot for all the others. I felt like an idiot. I said goodbye to my friend; I was convinced I’d never see him again. As I headed toward my hostel, my brain was racing. Asia had confronted me with a side of travel I didn’t know. I’d always managed to blend in, to go unnoticed, but when your features and skin color prevent that, the game changes. And this hyper-globalization, this hyper-communication, the fact that poor guys like me can enjoy travel—is it really a good thing? Does it create an expectation, a need for a mass of tourists who couldn’t care less about the country they’re visiting? No, really, I felt like an idiot. And then all those damn tanks, and what’s with those dozen tents in front of the presidential palace? It intrigued me. It was late, but there was movement. Hey! Hey! How are you? Good, just a little drunk. Ha ah aha! What are you doing here? Why are there so many military personnel around you? Ha ha ah! You can come if you want! Oh really? Yeah, yeah!

I climbed over the fence and learned. I learned that in the mountains to the east of the island, the island’s natives still live. I learned that their culture is disappearing, that they themselves are disappearing. That nothing is being done to preserve the very origin of this country. That all those tanks and military personnel were there for about thirty cheerful troublemakers who had made the trip. Because by being there, they were announcing: *Yes, we’re still here.* I spent the rest of the evening with them until early morning. They showed me how to weave my own shoes (flip-flops), plied me with endless coffee, laughed when a cop took my picture and I shouted, *Yes, I’m a French spy*, and gave me a bracelet. I left with a new look in my eyes. This trip will end as it began, but the next one will be different. I’ll be prepared; it won’t just be an escape or an adventure. Travelers destroy more than they preserve—it’s not easy to tip the scales, but I’m going to try anyway.

Hello!

After a long travel hiatus, we’re (finally) back on the road for some getaways! Now with two kids in tow, we’re heading to Thailand for two weeks next February (a destination that’s stood us up twice before but seems perfect for our first big family trip).

We’d have loved to stay longer, but two weeks is already a great start and will be plenty enjoyable.

Key points: - Experience Thailand, not just live our usual routine in Thailand - Avoid crowds as much as possible, even though February will be busy - Not big city fans, so Bangkok (BKK) will be kept to a minimum - Focus on nature, the sea, forests, waterfalls, hiking, kayaking...

At this stage, here’s the rough itinerary I’m considering: - Arrival at 7 AM + a day in BKK

- DEPART for SURAT THANI (BUS) - Transfer + Khao Sok (overnight on the lake / in the trees)

- RETURN to Ko Samui - Transfer to Koh Pha Ngan or Koh Tao (snorkeling)

- RETURN to Khao Lak. While there: * Visit Ao Phang Nga Park by kayak * Excursion to caves / Ko Khao Phing Kan (the "007 beach" lol) * ALTERNATIVE = SIMILAN ISLANDS

- RETURN to KRABI or Koh Phi Phi * Visit Koh Hong or Koh Yao Yai

* Flight from SURAT THANI to BKK - If time left in BKK: - Explore BKK: Wat Pho / floating market / Maeklong Railway Market / Chinatown... - Or a day trip to Ayutthaya - Or a day at Erawan Waterfall (Haew Suwat) - Day +1 = Return to France

Questions I’m pondering: - Is this too ambitious? I think it might be... but since we’d rather see as much as possible than just lounge on a beach... - How to get around on this route? Bus or rental vehicle (which I’d prefer to avoid) - Are there any inconsistencies in the plan I’ve outlined? - Should I adjust any connections or prioritize differently? - Krabi vs. Koh Phi Phi? - Koh Hong vs. Koh Yao Yai?

We’ve booked the first night (using some leftover backpacking perks), but nothing else—so open to all ideas!

If you know a local agency that can offer advice (for a fee), that could work too, since the options feel endless...

Thanks so much for reading this far, and even more if you’ve got tips or suggestions to share!! Best wishes ;)

In January 2023, we started our second road trip across the United States. We stayed from January to mid-March, which gave us plenty of time to visit several cities, attractions, and parks in multiple states.

This travel journal will be split into two parts due to the considerable number of places we visited.

This first journal covers the following states: Ohio, Indiana, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and California, and takes you through the outbound leg of our road trip.

The second journal will showcase the attractions we visited on the return trip, which mainly follows the famous Highway 1 along the Pacific coast.

So, I invite you to keep reading this first journal, which serves as a long recap to help you discover the various attractions we explored throughout this road trip.

Videos are included throughout the recap. Please click on the image to start the video.

Here are the links to jump to a specific post:

OHIO:

WinterLand - Christmas Lights at Cleveland Public Square Lake View Cemetery - Cleveland - Part 1 Lake View Cemetery - Cleveland - Part 2 Stroll through Columbus Upper Falls to Lower Falls via Buckeye Trail - Hocking Hills State Park – Logan Cedar Falls & Whispering Falls Hiking Trail - Hocking Hills State Park – Logan Ash Cave Hiking Trail - Hocking Hills State Park – Logan Exploring Cincinnati

INDIANA:

Visiting Indianapolis

MISSOURI:

Exploring St. Louis

OKLAHOMA:

Catoosa Blue Whale Discovering Tulsa Exploring Oklahoma City

TEXAS:

Exploring Shamrock Discovering McLean Exploring Amarillo

NEW MEXICO:

Ancestral Sites Trail - Pecos National Historical Park Discovering Santa Fe The Santuario de Chimayó Stroll through Los Cerrillos Walk through the village of Madrid San Francisco de Asis Catholic Church & The Bottle House - Golden Albuquerque Murals 66 Diner - Albuquerque Stroll through Old Town (Albuquerque) Rinconada Canyon Trail - Petroglyph National Monument Mesa Point Trail - Boca Negra Canyon - Petroglyph National Monument Macaw Trail - Boca Negra Canyon - Petroglyph National Monument Cliff Base Trail - Boca Negra Canyon - Petroglyph National Monument Piedras Marcadas Canyon - Petroglyph National Monument Sandstone Bluffs & Ventana Natural Arch - El Malpais National Monument

ARIZONA:

Stewart's Petrified Wood Shop – Holbrook Stroll through Holbrook Discovering Joseph City Exploring Winslow Grand Falls (The "Chocolate Falls") – Leupp Island Trail - Walnut Canyon National Monument Rim Trail - Walnut Canyon National Monument Wukoki Pueblo Trail – Wupatki National Monument Wupatki Pueblo Trail – Wupatki National Monument Doney Mountain Trail – Wupatki National Monument Citadel & Nalakihu Pueblos Trail – Wupatki National Monument Lomaki & Box Canyon Pueblos Trail – Wupatki National Monument Discovering Flagstaff On the way to Sedona Slide Rock State Park – Sedona Midgley Bridge Trail – Wilson Canyon – Sedona Tlaquepaque Arts & Shopping Village Walking Tour - Sedona Chapel of the Holy Cross - Sedona Hiking at Cathedral Rock - Sedona Hiking the Bell Rock Trail - Sedona Hiking the Airport Loop Trail - Sedona Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park - Sedona Hiking the Boynton Canyon Vortex Trail - Sedona Hiking the Devil's Bridge Trail - Sedona Hiking the Birthing Cave Trail - Sedona Bell Rock Inn - Sedona On the roads of Sedona - Part 1 On the roads of Sedona - Part 2 Keyhole Sink Hiking Trail - Kaibab National Forest Discovering Williams Exploring Ash Fork Discovering Kingman Ramada by Wyndham Kingman Davis Camp Park - Bullhead City Discovering Yucca Lake Havasu Boardwalk Tour A duck catches a lobster – Lake Havasu Boardwalk

CALIFORNIA:

Exploring Needles Discovering Goffs Discovering Amboy Visiting the famous Bagdad Cafe - Newberry Springs Exploring Barstow Vehicles from Hell (Mad Max Cars) - Barstow Peggy Sue's 50's Diner - Yermo Liberty Sculpture Park - Yermo Lake Dolores Water Park - Newberry Springs ZZYZX Road - Mojave National Preserve Alien Fresh Jerky - Baker Kelso Dunes Trail - Mojave National Preserve Hole-in-the-Wall Rings Trail - Mojave National Preserve Visiting Mitchell Caverns - Mojave National Preserve Dante's View - Death Valley National Park Zabriskie Point - Death Valley National Park Golden Canyon - Death Valley National Park Artists Drive & Artists Palette - Death Valley National Park Devil's Golf Course - Death Valley National Park Natural Bridge Trail - Death Valley National Park Badwater Basin - Death Valley National Park Harmony Borax Works - Death Valley National Park Devil's Cornfield - Death Valley National Park Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes - Death Valley National Park Mosaic Canyon Trail - Death Valley National Park On the road - Death Valley National Park

NEVADA:

Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health - Las Vegas Exploring Downtown Las Vegas SlotZilla Zipline - Fremont Street Experience – Downtown Las Vegas Viva Vision Light Show 1 - Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Viva Vision Light Show 2 - Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Viva Vision Light Show 3 - Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Viva Vision Light Show 4 - Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Free Live Music – Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Chucky – Fremont Street Experience - Downtown Las Vegas Las Vegas Strip - Part 1 Las Vegas Strip - Part 2 Las Vegas Strip - Part 3 Las Vegas Strip - Part 4 Las Vegas Strip - Part 5 Tom Devlin's Monster Museum - Boulder City Hoover Dam Lake Mead - Lakeview Overlook - Boulder City Nelson Ghost Town - Searchlight

CALIFORNIA:

Scenic Route through Joshua Tree National Park via the North Entrance Hidden Valley Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Barker Dam Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Cap Rock Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Keys View Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Hall of Horrors Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Skull Rock Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Arch Rock Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Cholla Cactus Garden Trail - Joshua Tree National Park Lone Pine - Owens Valley Miss Alabama & Shark Fin - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Lone Ranger Canyon - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Mobius Arch Loop Trail (Heart Arch & Lathe Arch) - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Eye of the Alabama Hills Arch - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Boot & Cyclops Arches - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley One Mile Arch, Bowling Ball and Pins & Gunga Din Area - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Whitney Portal Arch Trailhead - Alabama Hills - Owens Valley Fish Rocks & Trona Pinnacles - Mojave Desert Red Cliffs Trail - Red Rock Canyon State Park Hagen Canyon Nature Trail - Red Rock Canyon State Park Tour of Historic Downtown Tehachapi View of the Tehachapi Loop – Monolith César E. Chávez National Monument – Keene Discovering Bakersfield Kern County Museum – Bakersfield Bravo Farms, Tree House & Petting Zoo - Traver Walking Tour of Kingsburg Exploring Fresno Simonian Farms & Soul Consoling Japanese Internment Tower - Fresno Duncan Ceramic Products (iLoveToCreate) - Fresno Walking Tour of Modesto Wat Dhammararam Buddhist Temple - Stockton Walking Tour of Stockton Discovering Stockton University of the Pacific - Stockton Visiting Lodi Sutter's Fort State Historic Park - Sacramento California State Capitol - Sacramento Walking Tour - Sacramento Walking Tour - Winters Walking Tour - Napa The Chandelier Tree In Drive-Thru Tree Park - Leggett One Log House - Garberville Grandfather Tree - Piercy The Living Chimney Tree - Avenue of the Giants Stephens Grove Loop Trail - Avenue of the Giants Gould Grove Nature Loop Trail - Avenue of the Giants Fleishmann Grove Trail - Avenue of the Giants Mahan Plaque Trail - Avenue of the Giants Founders Grove Nature Loop Trail - Avenue of the Giants Eternal Tree House & Immortal Tree - Avenue of the Giants Drury-Chaney Loop Trail - Avenue of the Giants Walking Tour - Redcrest

COMING UP NEXT:

USA Road Trip 2023 - Part 2

This first trip of 2025 will have the taste of Asia.

More precisely, Thailand!

It’s not my first time—I’ve often traveled across Southeast Asia between 2000 and 2015. (This travel journal, for example...)

But it’ll be my partner’s first steps in this part of the world.

The itinerary we’ve chosen will alternate between familiar sights for me and new discoveries for both of us.

I’ll get to see how the country has changed in 20 years—and what’s stayed the same!

We were torn between the north and the south of the kingdom. Fears of smoke from slash-and-burn farming and a desire to relax on the sand tipped the scales toward the south...

What if we rented a car?

I think driving in sprawling Bangkok would be a bit ambitious, so we’ll only book our vehicle from Hua Hin to return it in Surat Thani.

Other transportation will range from tuk-tuks to overnight trains and ride-hailing services.

And of course, the plane!

I’d love to travel from Auvergne to Bangkok by road, but 15 days wouldn’t be enough...

Plus, the current geopolitical situation isn’t exactly favorable...

So, once again, we’ll be stuck for hours in the less-than-comfortable economy class of Qatar Airways.

The arrival time was on schedule, entry formalities were quick, and all our luggage made it.

We left Lyon in wind and cold—now we’re breathing in the warm, humid air of กรุงเทพมหานคร.

To reach our hotel, we first took the metro, which dropped us off in the city center in about 30 minutes for the incredible price of 1.18 €.

A few taps on the GRAB app, and we booked a ride-hailing service for the last few kilometers.

We waited a while for our driver due to insane traffic in the area, but once in the 4x4, we were at our lodging in no time.

We chose this small hotel for its riverside location, tranquility, and price.

It’ll do the job perfectly—the only downside is the weak breakfast.

The room is inviting, and we collapse onto the bed for a well-deserved short nap.

Wake-up call in an hour for our first visits!

See you soon...

Hi everyone,

In this age of zero-commission cards and fee-free accounts, I’m curious why some travelers still prefer to set off with a wallet stuffed with bills and exchange money on the spot.

I get it for those whose income comes from undeclared activities, but what about everyone else?

Between the risk of theft, scams at exchange counters, and fees that often end up being higher, I’m really puzzled.

The last time I traveled with a wad of cash was because I had to pay for accommodation in cash only, the local currency was the dollar (easy to exchange at a very low cost), and I was still paying some fees.

I’m still wondering about my next trip to Argentina because the situation there is very specific, but otherwise?

Is it an allergy to modern payment methods?

A budget so tight that an extra 20 € (the fees some local banks charge for withdrawals) on a 2000 € budget would be impossible to manage?

Thanks for shedding some light on this!

S🙂wasdee!

Kicking off the thread with an informative article about Phra Kreuang, protective amulets (according to local belief) that Thai people of all kinds wear around their necks:

https://www.objetsdevasion.com/guides/objet-bouddhiste/amulette-bouddha/les-amulettes-bouddhiques-thailandaises.html

You can find them all over the Kingdom: in temples, at markets, in specialty shops, and even in mail-order flyers at Seven/Eleven.

Also, heads up for those in Paris—from October 11th to 20th, there’s a collective exhibition featuring Thai artists: https://phenixwebtv.com/2019/07/23/facets-of-thailand-une-exposition-collective-de-cinq-artistes-de-la-scene-contemporaine-thailandaise/?fbclid=IwAR28PCY1t48M2DiwVlnc5uZvT20FnsxNLMppOb8d1pSfOjiw_sW_htV2CnI

@ ++, for the *sanouk* debrief from our last trip to the Land of the Free, as it’s so beautifully nicknamed.

Sânouk3😎

Hi everyone!

So, I’m putting into action an idea I had two years ago... I’m inviting anyone who’s interested to help build a beautiful collaborative project—a shared travel journal!!!

The concept: one post =

a photo you’ve taken in the American West that means something to you and your thoughts on that photo or about it: where and when it was taken, the story behind it, why it’s special to you...

Grab your pens!!!! (And I hope this doesn’t flop, but if it does, at least I’ll have tried!!!)

And I’ll kick things off in the next post!

After nearly 2 years of waiting (yeah, like many of you, we wanted to hit the road again as soon as we got back to France... but first, we had to fill up the piggy bank!), here we are at last—July, the month we’ve been waiting for! We’ve got 30 days of exploring new places ahead of us, as well as revisiting some spots we loved back in 2012.

Here’s the plan: - Joshua Tree NP - Las Vegas - Valley of Fire SP - Yant Flat - Zion NP (Angel’s Landing) - Bryce Canyon NP (Fairyland Loop trail) - Devils Garden on the HITTR - Capitol Reef NP - Grand Teton NP - Yellowstone NP: Old Faithful - Yellowstone NP: Norris Geyser Basin and Mammoth Hot Springs - Yellowstone NP: Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone - West Thumb and Grand Teton NP - Flaming Gorge - Colorado NM and Fisher Towers - Moab: Arches - Moab: Canyonlands and Corona Arch - Moab: Canyonlands - Moab: rafting and Dead Horse Point SP - Natural Bridges NM and Valley of the Gods - Monument Valley and Horseshoe Bend - Coyote Buttes South - Grand Canyon NP (North Rim) - Grand Canyon NP (North Rim) and Navajo Bridge - Sedona - From Sedona to Tucson - Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and Saguaro NP - Tombstone

Practical details:

- I’d read that it was better to book flight tickets directly on an airline’s website rather than through a comparison site. So, I spent months searching for reasonably priced tickets for two adults and two kids from Paris to Las Vegas for the outbound trip and from Tucson to Paris for the return. I mostly checked Air France, KLM, and British Airways, but prices were always around 4600 €. Not finding anything, we eventually went through a comparison site: Ebookers. We bought our tickets in mid-December: Paris/Atlanta with Air France, then Atlanta/Los Angeles with Delta for the outbound trip, and Tucson/Atlanta with Delta, then Atlanta/Paris with Air France for the return. Total cost: 4300 €. The layover on the outbound trip made me a little nervous because it was only 2 hours and 15 minutes. A month later, we got an email from Ebookers saying the layover had been reduced to 1 hour and 40 minutes! And a few months after that, it was down to just 1 hour and 30 minutes... So, we called Air France directly (we didn’t go through Ebookers, and it wasn’t a problem), and they put us on different flights. The new layover was 2 hours and 10 minutes—still not a ton of time, but I felt better than with 1 hour and 30 minutes. And anyway, we figured we’d see how it went!

- For the car, we tried several comparison sites, and in the end, AutoEurope won this year: 808 € for a 30-day rental of a Chevrolet Impala through Thrifty. The second driver was free for the entire trip since we picked up the car in California.

- We didn’t rent a GPS or buy one—we just downloaded Sygic on our two phones and bought the US map. I don’t remember the exact amount, but it cost us around 30 €.

- For hotels, I either booked directly on the sites (Xanterra, Grand Canyon Lodge, etc.) or used Hotels.com (to earn nights through their Welcome Rewards program) or Booking.com (when hotels weren’t available on Hotels.com). I always compared the price on Hotels.com with the hotel’s direct rate, but they were usually the same. So, for the same price, I’d rather earn a night with Welcome Rewards! We’d set a budget of 100 € per night on average, and we stuck to it pretty well—the final average came out to 101.20 € when including everything (nights + taxes + any nightly fees + parking fees + bank fees).

- As for luggage, we didn’t want to overpack! So, we left with one medium suitcase for Calista, one for me, one large suitcase for Hugo and Yannick, and a sports bag with Calista’s booster seat (we could’ve taken it on the plane with us, but I didn’t want to lug it around the airport during the layover). That sports bag came in handy on the way back, too—because, as everyone knows, you always come back with more than you left with! Each of us also had a backpack as a carry-on.

Before wrapping up this intro and getting into the real details, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to my discussions and helped me improve our itinerary!

Quick intro for those who don’t know us: Yannick (36), Peggy (36), Hugo (11), and Calista (8).

While browsing the forum to gather info for my upcoming trip to Thailand, I often see the terms "traveler," "great traveler," and also "tourist"—so what’s the nuance for you?

Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you going?

Like last year at this time, a post about bike travel ideas.

How many of us are preparing a trip planned for this year? Probably a lot.

What’s yours—the one you’ve been dying to do for so long, maybe too long? For us, it’s a modest PARIS-MARATHON by bike, followed by MARATHON-ATHENS on foot in June 2010. And you?

May the passion keep growing before, during, and after! Happy planning and safe travels to everyone.

Good evening everyone,

This is my 15,000th post, and it's a message I would have preferred never to write.

Patrick—Yangguizi—won’t be returning from his trek in Uganda. His health betrayed him in the mountains.

Like many of you, I laughed until I couldn’t anymore at his travel stories. I met him in Shanghai, then in Istanbul... We scoured restaurants—he was an incredible expert on world cuisines. We relived Korea, China. Always brilliant, so sharp, so funny, so down-to-earth. Being even a little bit his friend was something to be proud of. I think I envied him.

Patrick is still out there, of course... He found his happiness running across the world. He’s on his path. He never doubted that "the traveler doesn’t even know if he’ll return one day."

Not sure this would’ve suited him, but his departure devastates me.

Alright, Farewell, you foreign devil. Safe travels.

Michel

Hey everyone, I'm copy-pasting a message I wrote in English elsewhere. Hoping to find some people here! :)

Topic: Searching for travel mates in Kyrgyzstan 2nd to 4th week of July (i.e. soon) Hi all, Due to some holiday change of plans, I’m reaching out to this group to put together a team of 2-4 people willing to travel around Kyrgyzstan during July. I’ll land in Bishkek on Tuesday. I’m 42 years old and live in Lausanne. I love trekking, so it’d be great if the trip included some over the 3 weeks.

I’ve just returned from a cruise on the COSTA DELIZIOSA and wanted to share my thoughts for anyone considering this cruise line.

**Boarding in VENICE:** AVOID – it took a total of 3 hours before we could finally board!

**CABINS:** Our group had booked cabins with portholes. These were on the first deck, around cabins 1230 to 1257, and they were fine—no complaints. BUT some of us had cabins in the 13xx range, and that was a completely different story. These were right next to the engines, with an UNBEARABLE noise level!!! Those guests had to fight to get their cabins changed. One couple, after two days of hassle and endless discussions, finally got a balcony cabin. However, another couple was DOWNGRADED to a tiny INTERIOR CABIN—even though they had originally booked a porthole cabin!

COSTA clearly doesn’t care about its customers. Of course, these guests are still pursuing compensation, but their cruise was ruined.

Now, let’s talk about meals, the MY DRINK package, and the shows.

**Self-service meals:** NOT GREAT AT ALL. The buffets were chaotic—no pizza buffets like on MSC (because if you want pizza, you have to pay for it!). No pasta buffets either, unlike MSC.

**Restaurant meals:** Overall, they were okay, but whatever you do, don’t order the "3 Chefs" dishes—you’ll be very disappointed! And if you dine at the 3 Chefs restaurant, the menu costs 59 €!

**MY DRINK package:** In theory, ALL DRINKS ARE INCLUDED except for certain alcohols. They leave a large bottle of mineral water in your cabin, but if you drink it, they charge you for it despite the package. And on top of that, you’re only allowed 7 small bottles of water, while the number of alcoholic or non-alcoholic cocktails is unlimited?????

**SHOWS:** HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT! They only lasted half an hour, with no elaborate costumes, no real choreography—just one or two singers or a juggler on stage performing the entire evening’s show.

And the sound system? UNBEARABLE—so loud!

We had dinner during the second seating—which we really didn’t appreciate—and since meals ended at 10:30 PM, we’d look for a quiet spot afterward, but there wasn’t one! Music was blasting everywhere, and it was WAY too loud!

Another issue: The satisfaction survey. **Would you recommend COSTA to your friends and family?** Then the presenter gives you this whole speech about how the staff works 24/7 and that if you say you’re not satisfied, you’re punishing the hardworking crew. It’s emotional blackmail—unbelievable!!!

The staff, though, was absolutely lovely—housekeeping, waiters, everyone was so kind!

**Final verdict:** NEVER AGAIN with COSTA. For them, it’s all about MAXIMIZING PROFITS. If I ever go on another cruise, it’ll be with MSC or another line.

Hi there, I booked these upper deck seats and I’m worried about the recline because of the wall behind.

But it’s either that or an unknown neighbor...

Has anyone taken these seats before and could give me some feedback? Thanks

We're looking for transportation options for Mauritius for 15 days and for 6 people. Is there a taxi that can take us (6 people plus luggage) from the airport to Bain Boeuf? (Where can we find a 9-seater rental car?) After that, we'd like to rent a car for 6 people for the rest of the stay. For the return trip, we'd need the same taxi to take us back to the airport. Thanks for the info!

Ch

Hi everyone, I’m Amit, I’m Indian and I currently live in Nashik, Maharashtra. I lived and studied in France for two years as part of my master’s degree. I speak French (B1 level—I recently passed the DELF B1 exam), English, Hindi, and Marathi. I love traveling, especially in groups, and I enjoy organizing trips and helping out when unexpected things come up. I’ve also traveled in Switzerland and the Netherlands and lived in Delhi. I’m wondering if there’s demand for French-speaking local travel companions in India, especially for travelers who’d prefer having someone on the ground to help them during their stay. I could help with transportation, hotels, restaurants, communicating with locals, planning the itinerary, sightseeing, and handling unexpected situations. I’d also be interested in accompanying travelers for several days, depending on the itinerary and my availability. If any of you have used this kind of local companion in India before, or know travelers looking for this type of help, I’d love to hear your advice and experiences. Thanks in advance! 😊

Accompagnateur local francophone en Inde Bonjour à tous, Je m’appelle Amit. Je suis Indien et je vis actuellement à Nashik, dans le Maharashtra. J’ai vécu et étudié en France pendant deux ans dans le cadre de mon master. Je parle français (niveau B1, j’ai récemment passé le DELF B1), anglais, hindi et marathi. J’adore voyager, surtout en groupe, et j’aime organiser les voyages et aider en cas d’imprévus. J’ai également voyagé en Suisse et aux Pays-Bas et j’ai vécu à Delhi. Je souhaite savoir s’il existe une demande pour des accompagnateurs locaux francophones en Inde, notamment pour les voyageurs qui préfèrent avoir quelqu’un sur place pour les assister pendant leur séjour. Je pourrais les aider avec les transports, les hôtels, les restaurants, la communication avec les habitants, l’organisation de l’itinéraire, les visites et les situations imprévues. Je serais également intéressé par des accompagnements de plusieurs jours, selon l’itinéraire et mes disponibilités. Si certains d’entre vous ont déjà fait appel à ce type d’accompagnateur en Inde, ou connaissent des voyageurs recherchant ce genre d’aide, je serais ravi d’avoir vos conseils et retours d’expérience. Merci d’avance ! 😊

India inaugurates the new Navi Mumbai International Airport and the final phase of Mumbai’s Metro Line 3—a major turning point for the country’s infrastructure. Mumbai, India’s economic capital, is entering a new era of modernization. The Indian government has officially inaugurated the Navi Mumbai International Airport, one of the country’s most ambitious infrastructure projects, along with the final phase of Metro Line 3, a key axis to ease congestion in the megacity. The Navi Mumbai International Airport (NMIA), located about 35 km from the city center, aims to eventually handle up to 60 million passengers per year. Built to reduce pressure on the already saturated Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Airport, it features ultra-modern facilities, sustainable design, and cutting-edge technologies for air traffic management and energy efficiency. At the same time, the completion of Mumbai’s Metro Line 3, connecting Colaba to Bandra-SEEPZ, marks a major advancement in urban mobility. This 33.5 km underground section will significantly reduce travel time and congestion in a city known for its chronic traffic jams. These two projects reflect the Indian government’s commitment to transforming Mumbai into a global hub, combining connectivity, sustainability, and economic development.

The Navi Mumbai International Airport (NMIA), a project two decades in the making, has finally come to fruition. Phase one of the airport was inaugurated Wednesday by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in the presence of Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis and Deputy Chief Ministers Eknath Shinde and Ajit Pawar. Although the first phase, which includes Terminal 1 and Runway 1 with 10 bus gates and 29 aero bridges, has been inaugurated, flight operations will not begin immediately.

"Post-inauguration, the airport will be handed over to the Central Industrial Security Force (CISF) for a security sweep, which could take 30 to 45 days. We also need to mobilize customs and immigration teams and complete end-to-end testing, which is a 45-60-day process," said Arun Bansal, CEO of Adani Airports Holdings Ltd, developer and operator of the NMIA, during a press briefing at the NMIA premises Monday. Even though an exact date hasn’t been announced, NMIA CEO Captain B V J K Sharma and Bansal said commercial flights are expected to begin in December 2025. Plans of major carriers Three major airlines—Air India, Akasa Air, and IndiGo—have already signed on to shift part of their operations to NMIA. Last month, Air India announced plans to start with 20 daily departures (40 air traffic movements) through Air India Express, connecting 15 Indian cities in the first phase. By mid-2026, it aims to scale up to 55 daily departures, including up to five international flights. IndiGo, which made its announcement in May, plans to operate 18 daily flights to more than 15 cities from the first day of commercial operations and intends to expand to 140 daily flights—30 of which will be international—within 18 months. In June, Akasa Air said it will start with 15 daily domestic flights, scaling up to over 300 domestic and 50 international flights a week within a few months. When asked which airline will operate the first flight, Bansal said, "We want all three airlines to be there on Day 1. It depends on who has the earliest slot that day, and the destination choice lies entirely with the airlines." Operations to begin with 12-hour window In the first month, flights will operate between 8 am and 8 pm, with the 12-hour window likely to be extended as operations stabilize. Although NMIA’s full capacity is 40 air traffic movements (ATMs) per hour, the initial phase will handle 10 ATMs—allowing 10 aircraft to land or take off every hour. Airlines are expected to announce routes and ticket sales soon. Touted as an international aviation hub, NMIA positions Mumbai alongside global twin-airport cities such as London, Dubai, and New York, and plans to launch both domestic and international operations from Day 1. Concession for international carriers When asked if international carriers will be given any concessions, Bansal said, "For international airlines, we will not charge them parking fees for the first year." The duo added that NMIA aims to reclaim Mumbai’s rightful place on the global aviation map. "For a decade… travelers didn’t have a choice—airlines couldn’t get additional slots (at the Mumbai airport), so traffic shifted to Delhi. We are course-correcting that with NMIA. It won’t happen overnight, but over the next five–seven years, you’ll see the change," said Bansal. He noted that Mumbai currently lacks direct flights to major destinations in Europe and the U.S., something NMIA hopes to change. "If you see east-to-west flights, Mumbai is a natural stop," added Sharma. As reported earlier, NMIA will eventually feature four terminals and two parallel runways, with a total capacity to handle up to 90 million passengers per annum (MPPA), compared to 20 MPPA in the first phase. In the long term, the airport aims to serve as a key transfer hub between the East and the West, enabling passengers from Southeast Asia to connect seamlessly to Europe and North America.

Hi there, 🙂

The point of this contest isn’t to photograph Mathilde or even to frantically click the "report" button on every post in a thread.

It’s to post **road signs**!

Whether they’re official or not...

Funny or serious...

Of all shapes, all colors, in all languages...

The rules are the same as usual—I’ll let you check out the previous contests for reference. 😛

Just a quick reminder:

- Max of 3 photos per person.

- One photo per post (preferably embedded 😉) with a caption and the photo number.

Submissions close on **Monday, September 22, 2025, at 11:59 PM Paris time**.

Voting starts on **Tuesday, September 23, 2025, at 11:59 PM** (and not a second before… 😇), Paris time, and ends on **Monday, September 29, 2025, at the same time** (still Paris time).

Results will be posted on **September 30, 2025**, sometime during the day!

Ready, set, snap!



(To discuss, it’s here…)

Hello everyone, I’m reaching out to all travelers and globe-trotters on this forum. I’m a teacher in Creuse working in a ULIS program (which welcomes children aged 6 to 12 with disabilities into a mainstream school). This year, I’m launching a school journal project that will involve the kids in many different topics. A big part of this journal will focus on opening up to the world, embracing differences, travel, global cultures, and more.

I’m putting out a call to invite as many of you as possible to send us a postcard (from France or anywhere in the world)! The goal is to help us "travel" and discover new places, countries, and horizons in a way that’s much more fun and exciting than a geography textbook. One section of our journal could be called "We received a letter from ," where we’d research the location and share what we learn with our readers—a really enriching activity for the classroom.

The project starts in September 2025 but doesn’t have a strict end date, since this journal and world-discovery initiative will span several school years (the kids stay in the ULIS program for multiple years). Postcards can be sent anytime—throughout the year, across seasons, even during holidays! The kids will find them when they return.

I hope this idea appeals to as many of you as possible, and that you’ll spread the word to your fellow travelers. Help us dream and explore!

For those who’d like to write to us in a language other than French, no problem—quite the opposite!

Thank you in advance for your participation! Below is our address. If you’d like us to write back, feel free to leave your address on a corner of the postcard! 😊

ULIS program students Bonnat Elementary School 12 rue Georges Sand 23220 BONNAT Thank you, and I hope to hear from you soon! 😊 Julien 🙂

Hello,

We (a family of two adults and two kids) are going on our first cruise this August on the Costa Esmeralda. To make sure everything goes smoothly, I booked a suite. I have a few questions to prepare well and I’m definitely open to any tips.

I read that a restaurant is reserved, specifically the Bellavista. What confused me a bit is that I saw others mention the Panama. I’m pretty sure it’s the Bellavista, especially after checking the ship’s layout.

About this restaurant: - Is it accessible on embarkation day, say around 1:30 PM? - Same question for when we return from excursions around 1:30 PM

I’ve done my research otherwise, but I’m still open to any advice.

Thanks in advance to all cruisers who take the time to reply.

Hi there,

We’re a family with kids aged 10 and 12, and we’ll be in Sri Lanka during the Kandy Esala Perahera. I’d love to know if it’s really worth prioritizing the procession on the final night—is it that different? What do the other nights miss out on? From what I’ve gathered, you can watch for free if you’re okay with sitting on the ground, which isn’t an issue for us. In that case, is it still easy to get a good view? We’ll be coming from Jaffna—are train tickets to Kandy harder to get during the Perahera? Also, August 8th is a public holiday. Do trains still run on public holidays?

Thanks in advance for your tips! !

Hello,

Thinking this might be useful for VF members who, like me, want to get their French driver’s license translated for a car rental in Japan, here’s the email I received this morning from the consular authorities in Tokyo:

Dear Sir,

You can obtain the translation from the Japan Automobile Federation (JAF). Address: 2-2-17 Shiba, Minato-ku, Tokyo 105-8562 Phone: 81-3-6833-9100 Email: kchosa@jaf.or.jp Website: http://www.jaf.or.jp/e/trans_f.htm (To find their office in Sapporo: http://www.jaf.or.jp/e/list_translation.htm)

Information about driver’s licenses is available on our website: http://www.ambafrance-jp.org/spip.php?article781&var_recherche=driver’s%20license The consular section can no longer provide driver’s license translation services.

Best regards,

Consular Section

So, according to this message, no more mail-in translations through the consular authorities.

Sayonara.

"400 pages of verbal pyrotechnics and animal magic" — The Times

"Bulawayo leans into exaggeration and irony to tell hard truths. *Glory* is jam-packed with comedy and farce, poking fun at an autocratic regime while illustrating the absurdity and surreal nature of a police state." — The Guardian

The cruelty and savagery of Zimbabwe’s (and Africa’s in general) "powerful animals"

Zimbabwean author NoViolet Bulawayo has written a novel that illustrates better than any documentary the complexity of colonial legacy. In doing so, she revisits George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Her novel *Glory* is a political satire about Zimbabwe—and it’s brimming with humor.

For thirty years, Zimbabwe has been stagnating under Robert Mugabe’s presidency. Human rights violations, corruption, and international sanctions have kept the population mired in poverty and oppression, while the regime exploits the meager earnings of the economy. As the 2017 elections approach, a power struggle erupts over the succession of the very elderly Father of the Nation (Mugabe). On the streets, people hope for long-awaited reforms; the people feel their moment has come.

And indeed, the army ousts Mugabe and his wife—"with her Gucci heels" (p.32)—who was positioning herself for the presidency. Hopes are dashed, however. The generals install former vice-president Emmerson Mnangagwa in power; the regime merely changes faces, but the problems remain the same.

In the novel, the country is called "Jidada, with a -da and another -da" (p.1); there’s no mistaking that this fictional state is Zimbabwe.

For *Glory*, her second novel, NoViolet Bulawayo invents a whole series of codes whose strength lies precisely in how easy they are to decipher. Like George Orwell’s Animal Farm, the characters populating Bulawayo’s universe aren’t humans but horses, goats, or crocodiles with all-too-human traits. Mugabe and Mnangagwa are horses, the spiritual leader is a pig, the soldiers are all bloodthirsty dogs, while the populace consists of goats, chickens, donkeys, and cats. The shift to the animal world serves only to better grasp the laws of despotism—and to ridicule real-life models. On one hand, the animals are humanized: they tweet, torture, travel in private jets. On the other, their greed, stupidity, and brutality stem from their animal nature.

It’s the old trick of fable: dressing men in animal disguises to make them easier to recognize. That’s how Orwell, in Animal Farm, traced how the promise of liberation from the Russian Revolution turned into Stalinist terror. In his 1945 fable, George Orwell describes how the animals of a farm drive out their farmer to organize the exploitation themselves, collectively. For a time, they truly taste freedom, but a clique of pigs ends up taking control. The central figures of the Soviet story—Stalin, Trotsky, Molotov—were easily recognizable.

Yet Bulawayo departs sharply from Orwell. She’s less concerned with precision and the force of argument than with satirical exaggeration. The deposed president is a senile old man who believes he can control even the sun’s course. The new stallion in power is a greedy debaucher. His soldiers sniff respectfully at his tail and backside.

In Bulawayo’s *Glory*, things are more complicated, but her novel also tells of a failed, incomplete liberation. In the author’s Animal Farm, Jidada, the colonial exploiters are followed by new forms of oppression. Because the former liberators become tyrants themselves. And because global power dynamics persist in neocolonial structures.

Wouldn’t that be enough to fuel a deeply depressing narrative? No—Bulawayo turns it into a blazing satire, full of wit and uncompromising criticism of power, a thread running through contemporary (not just) Zimbabwean history. The old warhorses in NoViolet Bulawayo’s Jidada, who continue to act as pack leaders, are easily recognizable as caricatures of the longtime dictator Robert Mugabe and his successor, current president Emmerson Mnangagwa.

The plot kicks off in high gear with independence day festivities. From the crack of dawn, everyone waits on Jidada Square for the Old Horse, the Father of the Nation and former liberator, whose reign "was nearing all of—not one, not two, not three, but four solid decades" (p.1). Everywhere, the colors of the Jidada Party shine; everywhere, true supporters cheer. Even the scorching sun plays its part: "At this point the sun, upon seeing arrive the leader who was decreed by God himself to rule and rule and keep ruling, a leader who'd in turn decreed the very sun to head his cheerleading squad, took a deep, deep breath and thoroughly blazed to impress" (p.2).

Finally, the Old Horse’s luxury carriage approaches "with the slowness of a hearse" (p.2), and "hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary Father of the Nation," which causes "the animals fell over themselves like intoxicated frogs" (p.2). The sovereign’s speech is delayed a moment longer: "what I really want is a nap," groans the Old Horse as he takes his seat with such care "like his backside was made of expensive porcelain" (p.6).

Meanwhile, Bulawayo parades his entourage: the president’s wife (who earns her doctorate at Jidada University faster than "you could say diss, for dissertation. Tholukuthi it was as easy as ordering from a KFC drive-through, or perhaps even easier being that it was cheaper than KFC; it in fact cost her nothing and the degree actually came with a zero-calorie Diet Coke and a purple straw" (p.41), and she’s now known as Dr Sweet Mother. The cabinet includes "the Minister of the Revolution, the Minister of Corruption, the Minister of Order, the Minister of Things, the Minister of Nothing, the Minister of Propaganda, the Minister of Homophobic Affairs, the Minister of Disinformation and the Minister of Looting" (p.9). And of course the vice-president, who will soon become interim president when the Old Horse finally kicks the bucket—and then settle in as the new long-term president, who in the novel is called Tuvius Delight Shasha, or "Tuvy" for short (p.253), none other than Emmerson Mnangagwa. It’s him Bulawayo reserves her most merciless character description for.

"New Dispensation" (p.109) is Tuvy’s slogan for Jidada, and he loves repeating it so much he even named his parrot after it ("So inspired was Tuvy by the realisation that he rechristened his new pet parrot with the name New Dispensation—tholukuthi the bird having been acquired explicitly for the purposes of tweeting eulogies and accordingly glorifying the Saviour throughout the airs and skies of the nation. Tuvy then went on to hire a lecturer in English from the University of Jidada to teach New Dispensation to say the phrase 'New Dispensation'" p.110). But Tuvy’s Zimbabwe remains a nation without free, fair, and credible elections ("#freefairncredibleelection" p.161), and the promised equal treatment applies only insofar as Zimbabweans now queue up without discrimination in endless lines—and everyone is as poor as the next in the "queuenation" (p.283). Except for the powerful. They can "yes, tholukuthi, her immeasurable riches theirs to take. And take they did—

just take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take" (p.249-250).

In short: Bulawayo brilliantly depicts how former independence fighters become exploiters themselves. And how the country threatens to suffocate under the weight of corruption and repression. But she also literally stages the polyphony with which the people oppose imposed obedience to the official line.

Controversial online discussions keep interrupting the narrative—dialogues and social threads (see photo below) that Bulawayo masterfully integrates. From a literary standpoint, it’s a brilliant idea. And it shows, above all, that the author’s sympathy—so likeable—goes to all those who refuse to let their dream of true freedom be stolen, not even by the corrupt elites of their own country.

In the book’s acknowledgments, the first tribute goes to "The Jidadas of the world, clamouring for freedom on many fronts—A luta continua." (p.401) This reflects the realization that, not only in Jidada-Zimbabwe but in many other corners of the world, the end of colonial domination is still far from meaning the freedom hoped for by the vast majority of people. But it also means, more broadly, that this freedom must be won "on many fronts" (see above), both domestically and geopolitically.

That’s precisely what *Glory* so vividly highlights: how complex the project behind the term "postcolonialism" really is. With *Glory*, Bulawayo also delivers a scathing critique of the persistence of colonial mindsets in the West.

In the novel, the murder of George Floyd, racist police violence, and white-supremacist ideology in Trump’s United States perfectly illustrate the persistence of racism. It’s especially in the final chapters that Bulawayo lets Jidada’s inhabitants explicitly and unflinchingly criticize a neocolonial world order:

"It was not lost on us how the West, which loved to 'save' Africa and announce every action to the whole world, did so with one limb while manipulating, looting and fleecing us with the rest of its limbs so that more money in fact poured out of the continent than trickled in." (p.376)

"It was no mistake that multinational corporations yearly reaped and shipped colossal profits from Africa back to their countries as had been the case during colonial times. Even the sticks and stones would tell you that the African earth at any given time howled and shook and heaved from the extraction of its precious minerals that rarely benefited its own miserable children." (p.376)

"(...) we vowed to wage yet another war for Africa's second Liberation from neocolonial oppression. From exploitation. From plunder. From Western dominion. From indignity. From Abuse. We wanted real freedom. We wanted greedy, thieving paws off our wealth. We wanted Justice. We wanted a new world; we wanted a brand-new world so much we didn't sleep a wink that night." (p.377)

The Jidadas of this world must fight two enemies: Western neocolonialism and the autocratic instrumentalization of that argument; the persistence of Western racism and the populist appropriation of that humiliation by tyrants from their own ranks. Neither of these obstacles to freedom diminishes the historical and current guilt of the other. But the path to postcolonial liberation must overcome all these forms of oppression. After all, the colonizers didn’t bequeath democracies to formerly dominated nations, but instability and the principles of oppression and exploitation—which the so-called liberators have also internalized. Yet the fact that a satirical novel can capture the complexity of historical relationships while remaining, despite all the darkness of the subject, hilarious—well, that’s truly astonishing.

Finally, *Glory* ties into a major trauma in Zimbabwe’s post-independence history: the so-called Gukurahundi massacres. Between 1983 and 1987, tens of thousands of civilians were murdered by Mugabe’s bloody henchmen, most of them Ndebele. The State Security Minister and head of secret services at the time? You guessed it—Emmerson Mnangagwa.

When *Glory* turns to the massacres, the novel’s tone shifts completely. The story is now told through the narrative of the goat called Destiny, who, like NoViolet Bulawayo herself, left her home country at 18 for the United States and only returned after 13 years. In the book, the city of Bulawayo becomes a village where Destiny retraces her family’s history—and learns that part of it was also brutally murdered during the massacres.

The abuse of power and life under a dictatorship, dispossession, and a fiercely proud awareness of the psychological wounds and emotional vulnerability of a uprooted and disenfranchised people who had to forge a new language—a new set of names—to express their lived experiences are at the heart of this wonderful Zimbabwean author’s literary work, NoViolet Bulawayo. Shortly after her studies, she was already writing short stories about postcolonial power dynamics in Africa. But her playful, masterful, and often unconventional approach to language also plays a key role in her work. With virtuosity, she shifts from cynical images of power-obsessed elites to compassionate descriptions of the people’s suffering, ending with a hopeful sermon on courage—the courage to break free from fear and thus gain the strength for change ("And every one of them understood that whatever they heard within those hearts was the new national anthem, tholukuthi an anthem that spoke of the kind of glory that burns eternal and glows with living light." p.400). This novel is a genuine pleasure to read. And it’s exceptional. Good, African...

Book info (original English and German translation):

NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Chatto & Windus, 2022. NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Suhrkamp, 2023.

Hery

The books (in English, in German)

Author NoViolet Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

Threads (p.164-165)

I left my heart’s country eight days ago and returned to my adopted one—or was it the other way around? Scotland-Morvan, Morvan-Scotland, I’m not quite sure anymore.

After a quarter without dragging my slippers around here, even though I’d loudly declared I had no interest left in this site, here I am again!

My imagination never stays fallow for long. Just enough time for my inner land to rest. It gets overgrown with fresh nettles, the kind you can pick without getting stung. Then, it’s time to till the fragrant earth and let the story grow.

I hesitated over where to set this story. Maybe the Highlands, maybe the Hebrides, maybe the Orkney Islands, maybe the Shetland Islands. All of Scotland is myth—easy to embroider. But in the end, no. I’d almost be too afraid to bare my soul.

The story will take place at home. Simple, practical.

1)

This morning, I was up well before dawn, feeling a bit grumpy, but nothing a bowl of coffee won’t fix. I love my bowl, and no one dares take it. It’s porcelain, edged with intertwined blue flowers. On the bottom, it says "Revol." The factory has existed long before the Revolution. It was my great-grandmother’s bowl. She drank roasted barley from it during the war, then her Leroux chicory.

Last year, a little guy dropped it. My bowl broke into three pieces. A black anger vibrated deep inside me. The little boy was so upset, on the verge of tears. How could I scold him!

I picked up the three pieces and took Little Boy in my arms. His hair smelled of the light, sweet sweat of toddlers. A gentle hug that healed—his budding sorrow and my anger—everything vanished, and time carried on.

Today, my bowl is even prettier. Man fixed it using the traditional kintsugi technique, except he didn’t use gold powder or lacquer but superglue, and he delicately painted the cracks with woad blue. And my bowl is even more beautiful now.

I’m lingering, I can tell—it’s just that a story wraps itself in life, and life can’t be told in the snap of a finger. Life is long. Like in architecture, you start with a rough sketch, called a "sous-cul" (the initial pencil drawing), then you make a tracing, which is the work itself, the one you later carefully roll up in a wooden tube. Life is like that: you erase, you start over, you use the nub of the pencil until it’s tiny, but you keep going—dreaming, loving.

"Living is a full-time occupation, a unique adventure. Always a surprise and a wonder, which sometimes turns into astonishment. And, from time to time, happiness."*

Alright, enough digressing—this introduction is definitely too long. Tomorrow, I’ll get to the heart of the matter. (I hate that expression; it feels like I’m cutting into someone’s skin.)

*Jean d’Ormesson

2)