Hi there,

Here’s a quick summary of six trips across Southern Africa, covering South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and more. I traveled for a total of 23 months, over 100,000 km, and crossed 9 countries from South Africa to Tanzania. To do this, I bought an old Land Cruiser—a 1989 BJ 75 with a long chassis and a 3.4L turbo engine—which I converted into a bush camper set up for self-sufficiency in Africa: dual fuel tanks (235 L total) plus 2 x 20-liter jerry cans of diesel, 2 spare tires, a compressor, a toolbox with repair gear, a 50-liter water tank plus 2 x 30-liter and 2 x 10-liter jerry cans, a roof tent, multiple storage boxes, a sturdy roof rack, and even a paramotor. I also packed a first-aid kit and shipped the camper to South Africa by freight. My son joined me for part of the journey.

Key countries and highlights: South Africa in every direction, including its wildlife parks; in Namibia, the classics like Etosha, Fish River, Sossusvlei, Kaudum, but especially Damaraland and Kaokoland; in Botswana, a full loop of the Okavango, crossing the Makgadikgadi Pan, Moremi Park, the Linyanti River; and a tour of Zimbabwe with its national parks. During the last trip in 2020, due to COVID, we found refuge on a 250 km² Namibian farm with its own wildlife reserve. While crossing Damaraland and Kaokoland, we were completely self-sufficient, with supplies for over a month and 130 L of water.

In South Africa and Namibia, one issue that surprised us was the fences stretching for millions of kilometers along the tracks. Namibia is one and a half times the size of France but has a population of only about 2.5 million, mostly concentrated in a dozen small towns of 10,000 to 50,000 people—except for the capital, Windhoek (296,000). Paradoxically, compared to France, the space for freedom is extremely limited. Everything is private and requires payment. Even the Namib Desert is fenced... and you need a permit just to pick up a rock! For someone used to wild camping, it can get frustrating. Sometimes we ignored the rules, but the best solution is to ask a farmer (a real one, like a sheep or cattle rancher—not the ones with 3-meter electrified fences, which are lodges or private reserves) if you can camp on their land.

To truly enjoy freedom in Namibia, you need to venture into the northwest, along the Skeleton Coast, in Damaraland and Kaokoland. However, it’s essential to know your vehicle inside out, be a good mechanic, bring spare parts, and plan for potential breakdowns. Take care of your ride because a major issue out there can be a matter of survival. My motto: "Don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t break down..." Safari pros only venture into this region with two 4x4s. In Messum Crater, we met a couple waiting for rescue (thanks to a satellite device from their rental company) after their driveshaft broke. Keep in mind that in these areas, you’ll cover about 80 km in 8 hours.

Here are some of the issues we faced: a broken rear suspension leaf, several broken bolts on the front leaf springs, the spare tire mount breaking multiple times (replaced on the spot), a cracked water radiator in 1998 causing overheating and a seized valve stem in its guide, plus a bent rocker arm (field repair, valve adjustment, damaged head gasket, daily radiator refills, and a scratched cylinder—engine fully rebuilt upon return). Five roof rack mounts broke and were repaired at a technical high school in South Africa. The battery mount also broke (fixed with a steel plate found on the trail). The fuel filter clogged several times (changed or cleaned on the spot). A huge impact on the windshield from a piece of coal falling from a power plant supply truck (temporary repair with Araldite). The brake master cylinder failed in Marienfluss (repaired, seals replaced in Tsumeb). Multiple flat tires from acacia thorns. The rear door latch broke (homemade aluminum rod repair in Franschhoek). The voltmeter and ammeter failed (repaired on the spot). During the freight trip, despite locking the doors and having a partition between the front and back, someone managed to get in through the small side window, forced open the locks on two accessible storage boxes, and stole my tools (replaced later). A ball joint on the paramotor frame came loose mid-flight, damaging the wing and propeller (propeller shipped from France, homemade repair).

Health issues on the way to Tanzania: a painful sciatica and many sleepless nights (cortisone injection in Dodoma).

Kaokoland, Namibia—the northwest region: https://youtu.be/DzGepFsrnZs

Damaraland: https://youtu.be/DITQj8NvLZ4

Botswana: https://youtu.be/TEvDG0S62hg

Kaudom and Mohembo Parks: https://youtu.be/wq_Yf7jNLhw

Hello, so happy to be back on the forum! I’m heading off alone in mid-January for 5 weeks in Mongolia. I’d love all your tips—transport, accommodation, you name it…

For the cold, I think I’m used to it since I used to travel in Siberia, but that’s over now.

Looking forward to hearing from you! M

Monday, August 21, 2023 - Rochefort - Marans

No journal for the first two days. Day 1 - CARCANS-ROYAN Day 2 - ROYAN - ROCHEFORT Tonight I'm in MARANS in the "dry marsh" according to the campsite manager—it’s the first time I’ve heard of a "dry marsh"?!

Photos from the first two days

My gear



The Landes region—nothing extraordinary, but the calm and serenity are nice.



Le Verdon



The wild coast



This marsh isn’t dry, though.

Today is the third day of my trip, and I’m writing to you from a campsite in Marans. I’ve set out to bike from Carcans Maubuisson back to Plaisir. Why Carcans? Because we spent a week there as a family—a great week that lets everyone reconnect for a long stretch. Also, on Saturday, we all headed home—some by car, and me by bike. This journey is about 850 km via bike paths and small cycling roads. It’s not a sporting feat, just a nice long ride for fun. As the old Chinese sage says, "The destination doesn’t matter—it’s the journey that counts." But he also told me, "Traveling is great, but what’s the point if you don’t share it?" You see, this old sage has told me a lot of things—he often keeps me company when I’m biking. Of course, he doesn’t pedal, but we travel in harmony. Sure, he can be a bit annoying sometimes, but we still get along. All this to say I’ve created a group to share my story. I’d be happy to share this experience with you—it’s an adventure for me. On Saturday, I wasn’t sure I’d even leave because I’d been dealing with sciatica for days. Luckily, Juliette, a friend of the old Chinese sage, recommended a lifesaving remedy: Alternately stretching your legs with an elastic band under your foot. Obviously, a jam jar rubber band won’t cut it.

From Marans - The mosquitoes are attacking; time to head back to shelter.

The first two legs took me to Royan and then Rochefort. The Sèvre Niortaise flows nearby, and I followed a canal from La Rochelle. You could say the area is as dry as the marsh, judging by the state of the crops.



As I mentioned, it’s the third day, and if Jesus rose again on this day, for me it was more like the crucifixion. The scorching heat—only bearable when you’re moving—combined with rough trail conditions, and the old Chinese sage says, "Terrible roads, slow speed, and watch your limbs." I set out to do 60 km but ended up doing 80, and the last 20 were tough. I kept checking the GPS to see how much farther until the campsite. Today: Rochefort to Marans, sticking to the coast until La Rochelle, then no notable towns after that—just a constant canal. But since the sky isn’t too low, it hasn’t gotten lost. I’ve still got plenty of anecdotes to share, but it’s pitch black out, and the mosquitoes are still around. This morning, I counted ten in my tent, all full of my blood. Yesterday, at the end of the leg to Rochefort, I was really looking forward to crossing the Charente using the transporter bridge, but a sneaky GPS conspiracy led me far from it. I ended up crossing the Charente on a completely ordinary bridge, watching the transporter bridge in the distance with disappointment.

End of the first episode. Until tomorrow, if you’d like!

Hi everyone,

I was wondering how the coronavirus pandemic has impacted the way you travel or plan your trips. I know some of these points have been discussed before, but what I’m interested in here is the concrete, present, and personal—no politics and nothing post-COVID.

Here are a few ideas—do any of these resonate with you?

- Traveling shorter distances / for shorter durations - Favoring rural or less crowded areas over urban or overcrowded ones - Opting for private transportation over public transit - Traveling solo or at least in pairs rather than in groups - Waiting until the crisis is over and saving money in the meantime - Reassessing health risks (and updating your first-aid kit/medications and vaccinations) - ...

I’m sure you’ll have other things to add. The floor is yours!

Hi everyone,

I’d love to share a little travel journal from our 14-day/12-night road trip with our two teens (14 and 17) in February/March 2020. A huge thank you to all of you who helped me plan this trip to South Africa—your patience with my endless questions was amazing!



We left Lyon on Saturday, February 22 at 7:00 AM and arrived in Johannesburg at 10:00 PM after a short layover in Amsterdam. Flights cost 440 € per person (booked in October), with carry-on luggage. We added just one checked bag for the whole family (80 € round-trip with the free Flying Blue membership). Since we’d be moving around a lot, we packed light! In Lyon, we reserved parking at P5 in advance for 70 € for 14 days. The Air France/KLM flight was smooth. When we landed, we picked up our bags and had booked a night at the Aero Guest Lodge, just 5 minutes from the airport, with a free shuttle and breakfast. All you have to do is send a WhatsApp message when you arrive at the airport to let the shuttle driver know. The tricky part? Finding him in the terminal—he wasn’t holding a sign with the hotel’s name. 🤪 A South African called him for me since my English wasn’t great (and I had to get used to the accent 😛), and helped us spot the driver (who was actually less than 5 meters away!) with other guests. When we got to the hotel: all good, except we were 10 people in a van meant for 7. The room was spacious—one king-size bed and two single beds for the kids—with a simple but clean bathroom, a garden, pool, and breakfast (which we didn’t try). All for 65 €, so an awesome value!

After a restful night, we woke up at 6:00 AM to catch the shuttle back to the airport. Just a heads-up: there’s only one shuttle per hour in the morning, and Kulula canceled our 9:00 AM flight, moving it to 8:00 AM—so no time for breakfast (it starts at 6:30). We waited 15 minutes in the lovely garden for the driver, who dropped us off at the airport in 5 minutes. We checked in for our flight to Cape Town, which cost around 40 € (including two checked bags per person). We grabbed breakfast at the airport instead (less than 20 € for all four of us—one of the nice surprises of South Africa!), and arrived in Cape Town at 10:20 AM.

After quickly picking up our bags, we headed to the Avis counter and left with a Toyota Corolla for 80 € for 4 days (rented with the Flying Blue card—free additional driver). Everything’s on the left... not easy, but it works if you plan your route well. We drove to our Airbnb in Constantia. We were surprised to see animals, bikes, and pedestrians on the highway! We arrived around 11:30 AM at our rental—a huge house in the vineyards, in a super secure neighborhood, about 15-20 minutes from Hout Bay. It felt like Beverly Hills, but with super-high walls and barbed wire around the villas. 😕



We dropped off our bags, changed into shorts (it was around 30°C/86°F), and headed to the Bay Harbour Market in Hout Bay. We had lunch there—such a great vibe! We wandered through the stalls, everyone picked their own dish, and we sat down on the terrace. There was music, artisans of all kinds... a really nice moment.



I’d withdrawn 50 € before leaving... and that gave me change to pay the parking attendant. Lunch cost around 30 € for four, including food and drinks.



After browsing the artisan stalls, we headed to Hout Bay Beach near the restaurant, Marina Wharf (another small tip for the parking attendant—we’d have to get used to that!). We stopped to admire the sea lions. An ice cream for 1 €? No way we were saying no! 🙂





The fatigue was starting to hit, so we headed to the grocery store 10 minutes away (Constantia shopping center) and then had an aperitif in front of the vineyards, opening a delicious bottle of white wine.

Hello 😏

Four trips to Russia in our little camper van have allowed us to meet ordinary Russians, those who live far from the Westernized elites of the country's major western cities.

Even with our few words of Russian, we clearly understood what we were so often told: Russia is not just Moscow or St. Petersburg.

This post doesn’t claim to address the sociological realities of this magnificent country. More modestly, it aims to take you on a visual journey to discover the three fundamentals that shape Russian identity: rural life, religion, and patriotism.

VoyageForum allows 20 photos per post, so we’ll stick to this selection. They were taken during our fourth road trip, in April and May 2019.

RURAL LIFE

For this dive into rural Russia, we deliberately left the paved roads to take small dirt tracks and country lanes.

We traveled through the oblasts of Ulyanovsk (Ульяновск), Nizhny Novgorod (Нижний Новгород), and the Republic of Mordovia (Республика Мордовия).

1. We leave the main road to enter the first villages. Very quickly, we find these splendid homes that make up the historical heritage of rural Russia.



2. A little further on, we enter a village where time seems to have stood still. A single street, izbas on either side, small plots of land behind, a few wells for water...



3. Shopping in rural Russia isn’t like GUM! Here, no luxury boutiques—vendors set up right by the roadside!



4. In another village, with a few words of Russian, I ask the owner of this house why he’s bringing in firewood in spring. From what I understood, you shouldn’t wait for autumn when everyone needs it and prices go up.



5. In the Nizhny Novgorod Oblast, we stop near a small church that the parishioners show us around. To thank them, Sylvie buys them fruit juice and delicious honey cakes. Generously, the priest gives us permission to sleep in the parking lot!



6. The next day, wandering rural roads, we admire this house for a long time, with its traditional wooden figurines behind the windows.



7. We hit the road again toward a small town where, of course, they sell local fish. We know Russians are the biggest consumers of freshwater fish in the world. And here, we’re in the central Volga basin with its dozens of tributaries!



RELIGION

A few years ago, we visited the Makaryevo Monastery. That’s where we learned about the Saint Seraphimo convent for nuns. It was hard to find, on the border of the Republic of Mordovia and the Nizhny Novgorod Oblast.

We discovered a place of pilgrimage, a space for religious expression, authentic, popular, and very Russian—where nuns, believers, and (most importantly) no tourists mix! Just 500 km from Moscow and the Golden Ring, the monastery mainly welcomes groups and families staying in the huge pilgrim house.

We’d only planned a quick visit but ended up staying two full days! Thanks to the staff for letting us park and sleep in the pilgrims’ parking lot.

8. The site is much larger than we imagined. Over several hectares, religious buildings, the nuns’ living quarters, visitor accommodations, and schools all coexist...



9. For two days, we mixed with kind religious figures and pilgrims—welcoming even to non-Orthodox folks like us!



10. But what really stood out was the presence of groups of young people. We were also struck by how young the religious figures we met were.



11. The next morning, having slept in the pilgrims’ parking lot, we were the first visitors. It was a special moment to walk the grounds alone.



12. That morning was marked by an unlikely event. Sylvie chats with a nun who speaks English. Perhaps touched that we’d driven from France, she offers Sylvie a private tour. She asks two parishioners to dress her and grants her the privilege of seeing the sacred places closed to the public. Me? I got nothing—I was left outside!



13. I take the chance to observe pilgrims in prayer. I meet a small group of believers gathered around a portrait of Nicholas II, praying for him.



14. In the evening, after dinner, we attend the last service of the day. Until the site closes, we mingle with the *babushkas* buying icons, sacred images, and religious objects blessed by the priest—for just a few rubles.



PATRIOTISM

May 9, 1945, is the day Germany signed its surrender in Berlin. In Russia, it’s celebrated as День Победы—Victory Day. As we know, the Soviet Union paid the heaviest price: nearly 22 million dead. Not a single Russian family was spared.

We wanted to share this special moment, but far from the official ceremonies of the military parade on Red Square. We chose a provincial city, 180 km east of Moscow.

15. By 10 a.m., the crowd starts gathering downtown. Right away, what stands out is the family makeup of the procession.



16. We walk among the families, like this mom adjusting her daughter’s cap. The atmosphere is a mix of solemnity and reflection, punctuated by the joyful laughter of children.



17. This mother and daughter pose behind a portrait of their grandfather.



18. I spend a long time watching how patient and helpful the soldiers are. They lift kids onto the vehicles, make sure they don’t slip, then hand them back to their parents.



19. Around noon, we’re introduced to a tradition we didn’t know about. On May 9, in some cities, neighborhood committees made up of volunteers offer meals and drinks to participants. So we have lunch with families—parents, kids, and grandparents—all surprised we came from France.



20. By afternoon, the crowd has grown dense, with a procession stretching over 2 km! We stay until the end of the day, impressed by this authentic, popular demonstration of Russians’ attachment to the Motherland.



That’s all 😏

The full story is online here: ETERNAL RUSSIA.

Those who want to discover the world through the eyes of a plumber’s little van can check out Trafic Life.

Best regards,

Sylvie & Bernard

Hi everyone, I’d love to know if anyone has tips for learning English easily. Thanks in advance to anyone who shares theirs!

English: Hello everyone, I’d like to know if anyone has tips for learning English easily. Thanks to all who share them with me.

When I set off for Bolivia, like many Europeans, I was full of illusions (fed by the propaganda of President Evo Morales, a would-be dictator with limited intelligence). I quickly became disillusioned—everything there seems to be built on lies: political disaster, ecological disaster, economic disaster despite drug trafficking and smuggling with China, dietary disaster, intellectual disaster... Its only saving grace is being a vast, sparsely populated country, so nature lovers can still find rich, relatively untouched landscapes far from human settlements (but for how long?)

Where humans dominate, the disaster worsens year by year: water, soil, and air are contaminated, meat is pumped full of hormones, GMOs are everywhere, fish are loaded with lead and mercury (thousands of tons of waste are dumped into Lake Titicaca on both the Bolivian and Peruvian sides), and the food is ultra-artificial (all the additives banned in Europe are abundant there). For example, out of 50 fruit yogurts, only two actually contain fruit... In short, don’t expect to go there for a health retreat.

As for its capital, even though you’ll see "wonderful" written everywhere, the city is ugly, extremely polluted, and not particularly interesting. But since few Bolivians leave Bolivia and the public education system is one of the dumbest in the world, they don’t care. A stupid law decreeing that taxes are only paid once construction is finished means thousands of buildings will never be completed... Anyway, you’ve probably gathered by now that it’s not worth wasting too much time there. If you decide to go to Bolivia, it’s best to know what you’re getting into...

So what should you do? A stop in Copacabana is pleasant, as is one in Tiwanaku. A stay in Samaipata is nice, and the cities of Sucre and Potosí still have charm. The Uyuni salt flats are also worth seeing. Venture off the beaten path, even if transportation is complicated and sometimes dangerous.

Don’t be surprised by the omnipresent police (many of whom are corrupt) and military, or by the almost daily protests... These are just some of Bolivia’s characteristics. But when you pass through quickly, you tend to see what you want to see.

On the gastronomy front, aside from the fact that in many places the food is a cocktail of pesticides, GMOs, heavy metals, and dangerous additives—all washed down with plenty of Coca-Cola—don’t expect refined cuisine... That said, like everywhere, you’ll find kind people (though relationships are often superficial) and stunning landscapes. There you go—just offering a different perspective from the dazzled accounts of tourists who only scratch the surface without understanding the harsh realities. And I haven’t even touched on the administrations, social disparities, the TIPNIS conflict, disappearances (girls for prostitution and boys for organ trafficking), etc...

In South Africa, over the past few years, places offering interactions with lions have exploded across the country—but mainly in the most tourist-heavy areas (well, well...).

Under various names ("reserve," "center," "park," "institute"), tourists are lured in with the chance to pet lion cubs, walk alongside lions—all for a fee, of course. Volunteers are even recruited to support the animal cause—also for a fee.

The origin story of these big cats is always noble: orphaned cubs rescued from the wild, or from terrible places, or from an injured mother that was saved. (That’s an awful lot of orphaned lion cubs... a real epidemic?)

The future of these felines is supposedly bright—either a return to the wild or retirement in a reserve.

The "center’s" activities—the rescue of these poor cubs or lions, the study of their behavior, genetic improvement, repopulating the wild, and lately, advertising.

What will the tourist do?

How can you resist the incredible opportunity to pet a lion cub, walk beside a lion, get up close without barriers, see them so near? Plus, you’re doing a good deed by funding the rescue of these magnificent animals, cared for with such dedication by these passionate people!

What have you actually just done?

What are the facts? (Conclusions from a very interesting report)

There are over 200 lion breeding farms, currently holding more than 12,000 captive felines, most of which are lions. (Up from 8,000 in recent years.) More than 800 captive lions are killed each year by hunters. Who, by the way, try to establish ethical hunting rules. Almost none of these places have any real connection to animal protection agencies or wildlife conservation scientists. It’s a commercial operation, generating over $100,000 USD/month, particularly through volunteer programs. The real rescue centers can be counted on one hand! There are no reintroduction programs for captive lions. They aren’t needed—lions don’t require captive-bred animals for reintroduction, especially not those imprinted by humans or genetically compromised. And they don’t breed, sell, or interact with the animals in any way!

(They don’t breed, trade—mostly receiving animals rather than acquiring them—or interact with the animals in any way.)

Taking a lion cub from its mother is unnatural and only done to exploit the animals, visitors, and volunteers.

(Taking lion cubs away from their mothers isn’t natural and is only done to exploit the animals and you as the visitor or volunteer.)

Obviously, the number of animals actually "rescued from the wild" is minuscule. Information provided at these places is poor, confusing, and biased—or outright false. They exploit people’s gullibility and empathy for a commercial operation under the guise of animal welfare. Under the pretense of animal protection and research, many lions end up sold to zoos. Most are sold to hunting reserves. The use of big cat bones in traditional Chinese medicine is ancient and growing rapidly—over 1,000 lions are killed each year for this purpose.

The uncomfortable questions!

* Is there interaction with the lions? * Where are the old lions? * Do you buy or sell animals? * Where do the animals come from, and where do they go? Where do all these cubs come from? * Do you have a recognized predator specialist? * If you release animals, when and where?

The right answers!

We interact minimally, if at all! They need to stay wild! The old lions are here. Never buying. Selling is extremely rare. It’d be like an animal shelter buying dogs! We have few animals, all rescued. No breeding, ever. It’d be like an animal shelter breeding dogs! Yes. Extremely rare!

It’s clear this is purely a financial operation, and there’s a 99% chance you’re participating in what I’d call a scam.

Basically, lions are bred on farms. When they’re cubs, you pay to pet them. When they’re older, you pay to walk with them or get close. And when they’re fully grown, they either become breeders on the farm or end up as targets—in a zoo, as bone powder, or worse.

Pet a lion cub, and you’re sentencing it to a lifetime in captivity or death!

The same principle applies to leopards—though not exactly to cheetahs.

Real rescue and conservation centers exist, but they’re rare. The others are everywhere.

Please, keep this in mind on your next vacation!

Sometimes a trip, a desire to travel, a travel dream... begins between the pages of a book. These three invite you to Scotland, on the Isle of Lewis. And although they’re published by Babel Noir, Actes Sud’s collection dedicated to crime novels with a dark atmosphere, and even though each book features a crime to solve, these three stories go far beyond the genre.

The central character, Fin, a man who wasn’t gifted with lightness or whimsy at birth, used to be a cop. He isn’t anymore, having left the police after a personal tragedy... A crime with a modus operandi similar to a case he was handling brings him back to Lewis... He’ll stay there. Because the time seems right for him to retrace the steps of his own story... a story deeply rooted in this land of melancholic geography, this island battered and rebattered by the winds, frozen in the past, where beliefs and traditions endure, defying time.

This austere island where his tender years were bruised. This harsh land that closes in on the dead... and returns them to the living years later, when the time seems right for them to put their childhood to rest, by facing the figures and ghosts that once crossed it.

Past and present intertwine, the memories of one explaining and perhaps unraveling the shadows of the other... and it’s only by confronting the darkness that he’ll find a strength he didn’t know he had, one that may—likely will—help him overcome the unspeakable.

In each book, Peter May, like a historian and anthropologist rolled into one, explores a page of the past, highlighting some of Scotland’s darker chapters: the omnipresence of religion, the conflict between Protestants and Catholics, the rituals marking the passage into adulthood, the terrible fate of orphans... the shadowy corners of the human soul.

A poetic, dense, and minimalist writing style that cuts to the essence, with just the right words to describe childhood, solitude, second chances—those who offer them and those who seize them—the weight of things... and happiness sometimes so close yet not always allowed to be grasped.

Three intense stories set in the same landscape: nature ever-present, the icy dampness, the slippery machair, the dry peat that fuels the fires... and Gaelic, that language with its harsh, guttural, rugged sounds?... which isn’t pronounced exactly as it’s written.

Peter May The Scottish Trilogy, Complete edition by Éditions du Rouergue Or In paperback, Actes Sud publisher, Babel Noir collection 1/ The Blackhouse 2/ The Lewis Man 3/ The Chessmen

Inside South Africa

The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.

* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.

* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *

You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa

What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *

Meeting in the township.



Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...

Here’s a travel journal with photos, different from the ones we usually share with you.

Some of you may have heard about the legendary charm of Alsace, this small region in eastern France, right next to Germany. For those who want to visit, we’re offering this journal. While it’s not exhaustive, it covers many of the most interesting sites, and we’d love to help make your trip a success—or maybe even inspire you to take a trip there.

Introduction

" HOW BEAU-TI-FUL OUR ALSACE IS WITH ITS FRESH VALLEYS IN SUMMER, IT RI-PENS THERE WHEAT, VINES, AND HOPS "

This is the start of a little tune our elementary school teacher used to make us sing in class. That was last century. This refrain and its melody have stayed in my heart because they perfectly capture this region. I know many tourists dream of the Christmas market and the magical snowy landscapes, which makes sense, especially for visitors from the south or those with young kids. As for me, I’d recommend visiting between June and September because everything is so much more pleasant and enjoyable during the warm season.

Alsace is a mix of German organization and French art de vivre. The result? A place beautifully shaped by nature, thoughtfully developed by people, and packed with exceptional restaurants and bakeries. Plus, tourists are generally welcomed with courtesy and expertise.

The heart of the region’s tourism lies between Strasbourg and Colmar, spanning the Haut-Rhin and Bas-Rhin departments. To the west of these cities, often on the slopes between the plain and the hills, winds the famous Wine Route. From north to south, it stretches about 150 to 170 kilometers. A proper visit to Alsace takes about five days to a week—or longer if you’re really into it. I think having a car is best, as the terrain isn’t flat.

Let’s start with northern Alsace, which is less known to tourists—except for the Germans, who love strolling around and enjoying good food there.

Wissembourg sits on the border with Germany, at the very north of the Bas-Rhin, about 60 km from Strasbourg. The tourist office has set up signs near the large free parking lot, so you can take a pleasant walk through this small town. Highlights include the Saint-Pierre Saint-Paul Church (the second-largest in Alsace), the 1741 town hall, the Salt House with its unusual roof, the ramparts, and some fascinating old houses.















Hills border Alsace along its entire western frontier and also to the north. Countless hikes are possible in these low- and mid-altitude forests, where you can find chanterelles, sheep’s head mushrooms, and blueberries. Here’s a typical view taken above Wissembourg, near the Pigeonnier Pass:

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!

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...

From Bishkek to Karakol:



From Karakol to Kochkor:



From Kochkor to Baetov:



From Baetov to Kara-Köl:



From Kara-Köl to Bishkek:

hello to all travelers with their eyes wide open to the desert...

I’ve always wondered what I was "doing" on this earth. And why my father, who died a few months after I was born—a former youngest French resistance fighter—joined the First Saharan Motorized Company in Atar and spent the rest of his life repairing army engines in Algeria, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali (which didn’t exist under that name back then), Morocco, and finally Algeria, where my mother was born and raised. (Believe me, it’s not "cool" being the child of a soldier in a country occupied by France, and even less so the child of a "pied-noir.") Of course, I never got an answer: the dead don’t talk, and the army doesn’t either. But here’s the thing—I had photos... So naturally, one day I hit the road. I wanted to see, to understand. It’s thanks to VF that I was able to do a little research on crossing the Morocco-Mauritania border, and I’m grateful to its members, just as I’m grateful to all those who welcomed me on the road for 14 years. For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if I should talk about this or not... It turns out the Mauritanians changed my life by asking for my help... And that started as early as February 2012... (Did I owe them something? No answer to that question.) Ah, the irony—they saw me coming. But when you’re handed sick children and begged to do something, what would you have done? I’d worked in a hospital, so I knew a bit about the rules to follow. I didn’t hesitate. And well, over all these years, I met doctors, surgeons, and together we organized care, evacuations of children, training for surgeons—even trying to stop children from having to travel outside their country. It was never easy. I’d like to thank those who supported us, as well as *La Chaîne de l’Espoir*, *La Fondation Face au Monde*, and everyone who built bridges between our two countries. Unfortunately, despite the constant efforts of Mauritanian doctors and surgeons, some children couldn’t be helped in time. Today, I want to talk about four siblings—orphans of their mother—suffering from congenital glaucoma causing irreversible blindness. Their case was entrusted to me in 2020, just weeks before the big lockdown. We couldn’t do anything for them then, but when their father asked me for a gift, I rushed to my computer and wrote a story. Through a tale, the children take a great journey, explore their country, and fulfill a dream. I never thought this book would be published—it was, in 2023. This book pays tribute to Mauritania. It’s a message for those who know nothing about the hardships of life there, carrying both the harshness and beauty of an immense desert where you can travel by 4x4, bike, on foot, or by camel in complete safety. It bears witness to the kindness of Mauritanians toward travelers. As a woman traveling alone in my vehicle—a now-rusted old Mercedes that no longer runs—I had the most beautiful encounters of my life there (I’ve seen other parts of the world...). The blind children of Choum, Atar, Nouadhibou, and Nouakchott will forever be in my heart. Volunteer readers transcribed the book into a free audio version for the visually impaired. It’s available in sound libraries in France, the *Fondation Valentin Haüy*, and the Swiss Romande library. I made my last trip to Mauritania in my old 4x4 to distribute the book everywhere, especially to its heroes and the school for the visually impaired in Nouakchott. After that, I thought it was time to close the chapter because I no longer have the means or the strength to travel. My publishers chose this title for it: *The Blue Eyes of the Desert*. This publication helped a mission of Swiss volunteer ophthalmologists come to operate on glaucomas in Mauritania. I’m thrilled because they come back every year! This adventure is ending, yes—everything must come to an end—but ultimately, it was born here, on the VF site!! So yes, I had to say it: THANK YOU!!!!!

Hi there, We had planned a trip to Sicily in August, and due to the volcanic eruption of Mount Etna, my flight was canceled. The airline is refunding the outbound flight, but none of the non-refundable expenses: accommodation booked through Booking, rental car, and the return flight aren’t covered. My SUPER Gold card doesn’t work in this specific case! :( If anyone has been in this situation, could you let me know if you were able to get any recourse and, if so, how? Thanks in advance

Week 1 - July 2026

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.

Hi there, I’m planning a winter trip across India. Departing in early December and returning to France in mid-April. My main concern is finding an airline that offers this round-trip with the fewest hassles regarding cancellations or flight schedule changes. The unstable geopolitical situation in the Middle East isn’t making this search any easier—recent reviews online about airlines from Gulf states describe quite a few struggles over the past few months. The direct Paris-Delhi round-trip flights offered by Air France or Air India are probably the safest options, but not the cheapest! Given this uncertainty, I’m still holding off on finalizing my ticket purchase... Maybe some of you India lovers on VoyageForum have tips or experiences to share? Thanks, and happy travels to all.

When it comes to the Caribbean island of Saint-Martin, it's customary to praise its coastline and dreamy beaches—and they certainly deserve it. But in this story, I’d like to highlight other memories, aspects, and impressions for a slightly different change of scenery. Enjoy the read—some text and, above all, lots of photos. « Byenveni sou zile Sen Maten! » (Welcome to the island of Saint-Martin)

-- -- Full and luminous To avoid seeming too conventional at the start of this alternative take on Saint-Martin... here’s not a stunning sunrise over the sea but rather a moonrise—a less "typical" choice. And when you get to witness it, it’s a truly unique moment of contemplation. However, three conditions are essential for this spectacle: a full moon phase, a cloud-free horizon, and—most importantly—a moonrise at twilight. That early evening, all the conditions aligned—lucky us! Just above the sea, a strange glow gradually appeared. A huge moon was about to shine against a deep blue night sky.



What’s more, its light sparkled on the water’s surface—gorgeous! But so fleeting. We’re on the east coast of the island, by the wide stretch of light sand at Baie Orientale, Saint-Martin’s own. Now, just because I wanted to start with something a little different doesn’t mean we should overlook the bright sunrises you can see on this bay. They’re far more common than a beautiful full moonrise, but they also require two things: being an early riser and a clear horizon without misty clouds. Views to soak in without restraint...





Other memories of beautiful lights and lovely colors—a morning when the sun had a brief meet-up with the rain, creating a stunning rainbow.



And let’s talk about the moon again... On a clear night, a "blood moon," the result of a lunar eclipse that had turned our familiar satellite red.



-- --

A butterfly with golden wings! In the tropics, swarms of butterflies flutter everywhere, from flower to flower. They sip the sweet nectar from stamens and blooming corollas with delight.



Here, a monarch, one of the great migratory butterflies, taking its time to enjoy the pollen of this Ixora coccinea—or Japanese hydrangea, but let’s stick to Saint-Martin.



This one is an *Agraulis vanillae*, to be precise—and thanks to the internet for the ID. Photographing them isn’t always easy; these fearless butterflies often fly off before you can get a good focus, challenging both the framing eye and the autofocus! But on the island, I noticed some butterflies were much easier to shoot—those decorating a few murals. ;)





One of the graffiti artists behind several Saint-Martin murals has made it his signature. The talented Jimmy Sheik slips a little butterfly into each of his works, even if it’s not the main subject. It’s a nod to his home island, Guadeloupe, whose territory—with Basse-Terre and Grande-Terre—looks uncannily like a giant butterfly. In the photo above, a great initiative: turning this beach bungalow, abandoned after Hurricane Irma’s (2017) devastation, into a mural canvas—it’s a real success. Well done, artist!

To be continued >>>>>>

Hi,

We're leaving in 5 months for a 10-month family trip, and I'd love to hear from families who've lived this experience—what tips and lessons you took away. How did the adaptation go? It must feel really strange not having a... structured day, I can't find the right words. Thanks for your feedback! celine

Hello,

It might not be very original, but I see it hasn’t been suggested—or at least not for a very long time. I’d like to invite you to discover the beauty of the great outdoors through landscape photos. Whether they’re desert, sea, countryside, or mountain scenes—with or without other elements (people, buildings, animals, etc.)—they should make us want to dive right in without hesitation.

To participate: Photo submissions until Wednesday, June 24 at 11:59 PM You can post up to 3 photos, numbered and shared in separate messages, along with a short description of the place and the story behind it.

To vote: from Thursday, June 25 at 12:01 AM to Monday, June 29 at 11:59 PM After the deadline, it’s too late!

Please include the photo number, username, and the points awarded: Photo #1 = 3 pts Photo #2 = 2 pts Photo #3 = 1 pt

All VF members can vote (even those who didn’t submit photos). In case of a tie for first place, the winning photo will be the one with the most first-place votes, then second-place votes! The lucky winner will get to organize July 2026’s photo contest.

For discussions about the theme, it’s here: Discussion thread for June 2026’s theme: Such a Beautiful Landscape

Good luck to everyone!

Philippe

Chumphon, Thailand: Doi Tapang

Hi everyone,

It’s been a while since I last posted... so I’m jumping back in with this amazing trip we took in October 2025:

We’re doing this trip with fellow traveler friends who, like us, have already been to Japan. That means we can aim for a different side of Japan, away from the usual tourist circuits. That’s why I opted to rent a car instead of relying on trains. I was drawn to the castles and the samurai-novel atmosphere.

When I plotted the sites I wanted to visit on Google Maps, it suggested a return route via the island of Shikoku, so it turned into a nice loop around the Seto Inland Sea between Kyushu, Chugoku, and Shikoku.

The trip will be just the four of us, doing it all independently. I rented a car from Budget in Fukuoka. Before heading over, I watched several videos to get an idea of what to expect—road signs, parking, and general driving behavior. In Japan, they drive on the left, but that’s not an issue since in Southern Africa we also drive on the “wrong side of the road,” so I’m used to it. For accommodations, after checking with two agencies, I decided to handle it myself. It saved a significant amount of money, and I was able to choose exactly what I wanted. I know I can be picky about the type of lodging I want, especially in Japan where you can really treat yourself. We stayed in some stunning ryokans, once in little cabins run by monks next to a temple, and more.

Here’s the route: Fukuoka - Hagi - Miyajima - Matsue - Okayama - Kurashiki - Matsuyama - Yufuin - Kurokawa - Kumamoto - Fukuoka

Here we gooo...

Hi there, I’m planning a trip to Colombia this summer. I’ve been reading a lot about safety in Colombia—everything and its opposite. For those of you who know Colombia, currently, would you say it’s a country where you can travel safely? I don’t plan on going to narco or paramilitary zones. What about the political situation? I’m traveling as a couple, without any tour organization. I just signed up and I’m still figuring out how this forum works—I didn’t know where to look for answers. Thanks.

Hi everyone, So great to be back on our forum!...

For the past few years, I’ve been traveling on a budget, especially by sleeping as often as possible in campgrounds or in my car... If I can help, I’d be happy to.

Outrageous and completely unacceptable experience with SIXT Funchal! JUNE 2026 During our trip to Madeira, we had pre-booked and prepaid a deposit online for a vehicle to pick up at the SIXT agency in Funchal via the "discovercar.com" website. Upon arrival, we were faced with an employee whose behavior was unacceptable, aggressive, disdainful, and completely contrary to what you’d expect from a hospitality professional. She outright refused to hand over the vehicle, claiming that my husband’s paper driving license wasn’t allowed under SIXT’s rules. The most shocking part is that the explanations given on the spot seemed dishonest and in bad faith. We’ve rented vehicles in several European Union countries with this same license without ever encountering any issues. If SIXT doesn’t accept paper licenses, this condition should have been clearly stated before booking—and especially before taking our money. We only discovered this so-called condition once we were there, after traveling and having already paid part of the rental. What followed was particularly painful: we had to return to the agency to get a refusal certificate. Fortunately, we had recorded the conversation, which allowed us to keep proof of the exchanges and push forward with our complaints. After many back-and-forths and three months of waiting, we finally got our money back thanks to discover.com’s customer service, who supported us in our efforts—otherwise, the SIXT agency would have continued to deny our visit, and we would have considered legal action. This situation is simply scandalous. When you arrive in Madeira for a vacation, you certainly don’t expect to be greeted with such aggression, disdain, and bad faith. We sincerely hope this person will no longer be in contact with customers, as her behavior was particularly shocking and seriously ruined our experience. We strongly advise against using the SIXT agency in Funchal. If you want to avoid bad surprises, conflicts, and a terrible customer experience, steer clear. For our part, SIXT Funchal: NEVER AGAIN!

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

Hello, Don’t stay in the cold and damp! I’m looking for one or more people (men or women, travel companions) to spend a few weeks in South India, Sri Lanka, or Mexico from late October 2026 to early December.

I’m Jean Pierre, 74 years old, and I manage just fine when traveling. Phone: 0389812641 Cheers, Jean Pierre

I took a few days to get some fresh air outside the Schengen-NATO prison. Between March 18, 2026, and March 25, 2026, as shown by the passport stamps:



Borisoglebsk is the Russian border checkpoint after Kirkenes, on the road to Murmansk.

Kirkenes is a tiny town with a correspondingly small airport. Nothing has changed there: the minibuses to Murmansk wait on the right as you exit the airport. They’re synchronized with the two daily flights from Oslo—the SAS around 11:00 AM and Norwegian around 11:30 AM. They stop in Kirkenes at the corner of the Scandic for an hour, where other passengers can board, then head straight to the nearby border.

This is the least hassle Frontex/Schengen border. The Norwegian agent quickly scans your passport, and that’s it. No customs, since Norway is Schengen but not in the EU. On the Russian side, there’s a passport check and a quick customs inspection. All in all, crossing both the Norwegian and Russian checkpoints takes about 15 minutes.

A paper visa is required; e-visas aren’t accepted.

Two companies run the route: Avto Ekspress and Borodin: https://ae51.ru/routes/kirkenes-murmansk/ https://borodinbus.com/

The one-way fare is 5,500 ₽. You can either buy it online in rubles with a MIR card or make a formal reservation and pay in NOK cash to the driver. I took Borodin, and the price in NOK was much more expensive than in ₽.

=========================

On March 25, I left from Pskov via the Estonian border post at Luhaama. I spent three days in Murmansk, flew to St. Petersburg (SPB), stayed there for two days, then took an evening train to Pskov.

Since the end of February—and reportedly until the end of May—the Estonians have restricted the opening hours of the two border crossings near Pskov: Koidula (Pechory on the Russian side) and Luhaama (Izborsk on the Russian side). They’re closed at night between 7:00 PM and 7:00 AM. Right now, there’s a bus from Pskov at 7:00 AM to the border. It drops you off at the end of the road where truckers—many Kazakh and Serbian—are parked on the side. You finish the rest on foot to the barrier, where there’s a quick initial check for Ukrainian stamps in passports. Then you walk to the customs building, followed by passport control at the kiosk for motorists. After that, it’s a 500-meter walk to the Estonian checkpoint. At the moment, things seem calmer. Passport control is quick. The usual silly questions in English: "Where were you? Where are you going?" I just gave my most clueless smile: "Sorry, I don’t understand." Yeah, right—I don’t speak English, especially not at an Estonian border with a French passport. If they’re in a mood, though... A very quick bag inspection. Once you exit the Estonian post, walk to the bus stop sign by the road where another coach takes you to Riga.

The catch: in my case, last Wednesday, there were two passengers (Russians) with old Ukrainian stamps in their passports. The bus from the Estonian post to Riga was supposed to leave around 9:30 AM. We ended up leaving around noon after the two were grilled by the FSB. Since it was a weekday outside of holidays, the bus was half-empty. The fuller the bus and the more people with Ukrainian stamps, the worse the nightmare. Don’t book a same-day flight from Riga. I had a flight at 6:00 PM, so it worked out.

=============

The Kirkenes-Murmansk route is still clearly the easiest and fastest. But it’s not the most convenient since it’s way up north.

Next, I’d say the Gdansk-Kaliningrad route in the middle of the week. Avoid weekends and holiday departures/returns.

Avoid the Narva-Ivangorod route during Christmas, Easter, May 9, and *all* summer.

==============

About flights from Murmansk to St. Petersburg: prices are good. I bought my ticket the day before departure on Rossiya for 7,500 ₽, including 10 kg of luggage + a handbag.



It’s the tail end of the northern lights season, and there were still crowds of Chinese tourists.



By the way, Murmansk is twinned with Harbin:



Chinese tourists are the largest foreign group, followed by Indians, then a mix of others from the Far East, Turks, Arabs, etc. Brochures are bilingual—Russian and Chinese:



============================

But let’s talk practical stuff. --

My domestic SIM card was restricted for SMS and internet for 24 hours. After that, if you want to keep using SMS, don’t turn off your phone—restarting triggers another 24-hour purgatory.

My Russian SIM cards (Megafon, MTS, Beeline) were activated as soon as I logged into their respective apps with my credentials.

Internet --

Telegram is heavily slowed down by authorities. To use it, you need to connect through proxy servers, which you load into the latest version of the app. Traffic is then rerouted internally within Telegram to servers outside Russia (Germany, Poland, Sweden, etc.). You can find these proxies on various channels. One is ChatVPN—check their website too.

For general internet use, like browsing the web, VPNs that work right now use the VLESS protocol. You can find several on Telegram by searching "VPN." A few free days, then payment in rubles or crypto.

Rozkomnadzor’s team are experts at this, so things can change. It’s a constant cat-and-mouse game.

Pskov is a special case. The city is near Estonia and has a large military base. Depending on NATO drone swarms launched from the Baltics, Wi-Fi can be completely suspended except for the most essential mobile apps. The drone swarms use the 4G network, and the powerful electronic jamming and drone suppression systems cause periods without Wi-Fi—including in hotels. Wired connections aren’t affected.

So, even before starting my explanation, I’d like to introduce myself since this is my first post on the forum :) I’m Jérôme, a huge Asia enthusiast, and I’m currently in the process of moving to Japan with my family in 2028.

Now, onto the topic :)

We’re a family of four traveling together to Seoul, with two separate bookings.

Our original itinerary was: Madrid → Doha → Seoul (March 23–24)

The issue is that our entire outbound flight was canceled, and the airline simply rescheduled the Madrid → Doha leg. Now we’re left with an incomplete journey, with no solution to reach our final destination (Seoul).

Since then:

- Can’t modify flights online (technical error every time) - Can’t get help via chat or WhatsApp - Phone support is unreachable, and the usual French number isn’t working right now

We don’t want a refund. We just want to be rerouted to Seoul, as our original ticket promised.

We’re flexible:

- On dates (we can leave on March 21 or 22 instead of the 23rd) - On the itinerary (different layovers if needed)

Have any of you dealt with this before? Do you know how to unlock a booking in this case or get a rerouting? We’re considering going straight to the airport to resolve it at the Qatar Airways counter....

Thanks so much for your help! 😊

Hi there,

I’m looking for a beach spot within 3 hours max of Bangkok for the end of my trip (January). I know full well I won’t find that postcard-perfect vibe of the more remote islands! But I don’t have a choice. If you’ve got any ideas... no high-rises, obviously not Pattaya, somewhere quiet, swimming possible, a hotel right on the beach (and not too dirty, the beach itself!) I’ve looked at hotels around Ko Samet or, across from it, on the mainland. I spotted the Bann Pae Cabana. But nothing really exciting on either side. New ideas welcome! 🙂