Hi there,
I’ll be traveling to Tuscany with my family (my wife and two kids, aged 6 and 8) from April 26 to May 5. Here’s a rough draft of our potential itinerary—I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions so I can tweak and improve it. We haven’t finalized our accommodations yet, but they’ll likely be near Florence (2 nights), Lucca (2 nights), Monteriggioni (2 nights), Pienza, Montalcino, and Greve in Chianti.
- April 26:
o Arrival in Florence around 12:00 PM
- April 27:
o Florence
- April 28:
o Florence – Pistoia – Lucca
- April 29:
o Lucca – Pisa – Lucca
- April 30:
o Lucca – Volterra – San Gimignano – Monteriggioni
- May 1:
o Monteriggioni – Siena – Monteriggioni
- May 2:
o Monteriggioni – Abbey of Santa Maria di Monte Oliveto – Baccoleno – Castelmuzio – Chapel of Madonna di Vitaleta (San Quirico d’Orcia) – Pienza
- May 3:
o Pienza – Montepulciano – Montichiello – Abbey of Sant’Antimo – Bagno Vignoni Thermal Baths – Montalcino
- May 4:
o Montalcino – Castellina in Chianti – Radda in Chianti – Badia a Coltibuono – Volpaia – Montefioralle – Greve in Chianti
- May 5:
o Greve in Chianti – Florence airport
Thanks for any insights! 😉
340 similar discussions in English
we have flights with Swiss and Lufthansa for January; our flights are still in our booking file. But after reading that the Cambodian ambassador in Paris advised against transiting through Bangkok (which is our case), I reached out to the airlines to potentially change our ticket via Singapore. However, both companies have canceled all flights to Cambodia, regardless of the day or airport. We’ll have our contact on the ground call us on Monday to figure out what to do, especially since no insurance covers war, conflict, etc. If anyone else is in the same situation with an upcoming departure, we can exchange tips
Hi there,
We're leaving for Albania on June 18th. When I validated the flight tickets with Wizz Air on Booking, I only put my son's first name but forgot to include his other three first names on the ticket. On the passport: SURNAME: Dupont, FIRST NAMES: toto titi tutu tata On the flight ticket: SURNAME: Dupont, FIRST NAME: toto I can't seem to reach anyone at Wizz Air to get an answer. Booking and Wizz Air's chat say I need to modify it, but ChatGPT says it should be fine. I wanted to know if he can fly like this or if I need to change his ticket? (It costs 140 €, I know I shouldn't have made a mistake🙁)
Thanks for your feedback.
We're leaving for Albania on June 18th. When I validated the flight tickets with Wizz Air on Booking, I only put my son's first name but forgot to include his other three first names on the ticket. On the passport: SURNAME: Dupont, FIRST NAMES: toto titi tutu tata On the flight ticket: SURNAME: Dupont, FIRST NAME: toto I can't seem to reach anyone at Wizz Air to get an answer. Booking and Wizz Air's chat say I need to modify it, but ChatGPT says it should be fine. I wanted to know if he can fly like this or if I need to change his ticket? (It costs 140 €, I know I shouldn't have made a mistake🙁)
Thanks for your feedback.
Hi, we're going on a cruise to Norway departing from Dunkirk and sailing up the coast—can you share some ideas on what to visit? Thanks!
Gigi
Another trip planned during Covid. Actually, for 2020, I had three trips booked, with tickets purchased and everything.
This one to Uzbekistan was planned for April 2020. We postponed it to April 2021, but it was canceled again, and we couldn’t reschedule for April 2022 because our friends who were coming with us were busy. So, we chose summer, knowing the temperatures would likely be very high.
We left as a group of five: a couple we usually travel with and one of their friends, whom I knew. She was traveling alone and had dreamed of this trip but didn’t want to go by herself.
For organization, we went through an agency to handle the train tickets and our trip to the Aral Sea. It’s not my usual style, but back in 2020, we were already in touch with them, and they were very understanding during the two cancellations. It wasn’t easy, given the economic crisis Covid caused, especially in Uzbekistan.
Again, I’m writing this travel journal from memory since I didn’t take any notes. (It’s good to give your brain a workout now and then!)
Day 1: Off to Tashkent
We flew in the afternoon to Istanbul, had a 2-hour-15-minute layover in Turkey, and then took an overnight flight to arrive early in the morning in Tashkent. Problem (again): just before taking off from Saint-Exupéry, the plane had an issue with the landing gear. We waited two hours, and after a few hammer and wrench adjustments, we finally took off. Of course, by the time we arrived in Istanbul, it was a mad dash through the airport to catch our connecting flight. We landed at 7:30 AM in Tashkent, and of the five suitcases in our little group, two were missing (one of ours and the solo traveler’s). Big problem because we were leaving at 2:30 PM by train for the Aral Sea, and we wouldn’t be near an airport again for three days. Plus, at the small airport in the Uzbek capital, no one spoke English (or French, or the Ardèche dialect). Fortunately, we had booked a guide for a quick morning tour of the capital. We had seven hours to kill, and it seemed smart to do it this way (and yes, sometimes we do think ahead). With him speaking English and, more importantly, Uzbek, the delivery of our suitcases was arranged.
So, we set off to explore the capital. It’s very Soviet in design—wide avenues and ugly buildings.
We visited the Khasti Imam historical complex (first name to pronounce at your own risk—there will be plenty more during the trip). Lots of "oohs" and "aahs" about how beautiful it was, but in the end, compared to what we saw later, it was really just small potatoes.
We checked out Chorsu Bazaar, the city’s large covered market. The guide was friendly and gave us plenty of tips for the rest of the trip. He suggested a restaurant, which we accepted, so we could get familiar with local customs. The good thing was, it didn’t seem like a tourist trap.
Next, we headed to the train station because our train was at 2:30 PM. The guide left us, and then another problem arose. While going through security, one of the staff made it clear that our train was canceled and our ticket needed to be changed to the train leaving around 8:20 PM. Heatwave moment (it was 38°C). Our issue was that we were supposed to arrive in Nukus (our destination) at 6:00 AM and take a minibus for a round trip to Moynaq and the Aral Sea (four hours each way). The plan was to spend 2-3 hours there and return, so a 10-11-hour timeline. Leaving at 6:00 AM made it doable, but with the train now leaving at 8:20 PM, we’d arrive in Nukus at noon, which messed up the rest of the plan.
I was fuming at the agency (I really don’t like using agencies), so I called the local contact, who quickly sent our guide back (because trying to communicate, change tickets, and get information was tough).
I asked the manager to find us flight tickets to make up for the delay, but nothing—zilch—was possible. We were stuck! My buddy and I were determined to get to Moynaq, but the women in the group were less motivated.
No choice but to board the train for an overnight journey. We had a cabin for two (and our friend had one to herself). Big scare at first—no AC, and it felt like 150°. They told us it would work once the train started moving, which it did. A frugal meal in the dining car (spaghetti with meat—the only dish on offer) and we had a good night’s sleep.
The +: Finally, we’re here! The -: A lot of hassles to start the trip
We left as a group of five: a couple we usually travel with and one of their friends, whom I knew. She was traveling alone and had dreamed of this trip but didn’t want to go by herself.
For organization, we went through an agency to handle the train tickets and our trip to the Aral Sea. It’s not my usual style, but back in 2020, we were already in touch with them, and they were very understanding during the two cancellations. It wasn’t easy, given the economic crisis Covid caused, especially in Uzbekistan.
Again, I’m writing this travel journal from memory since I didn’t take any notes. (It’s good to give your brain a workout now and then!)
Day 1: Off to Tashkent
We flew in the afternoon to Istanbul, had a 2-hour-15-minute layover in Turkey, and then took an overnight flight to arrive early in the morning in Tashkent. Problem (again): just before taking off from Saint-Exupéry, the plane had an issue with the landing gear. We waited two hours, and after a few hammer and wrench adjustments, we finally took off. Of course, by the time we arrived in Istanbul, it was a mad dash through the airport to catch our connecting flight. We landed at 7:30 AM in Tashkent, and of the five suitcases in our little group, two were missing (one of ours and the solo traveler’s). Big problem because we were leaving at 2:30 PM by train for the Aral Sea, and we wouldn’t be near an airport again for three days. Plus, at the small airport in the Uzbek capital, no one spoke English (or French, or the Ardèche dialect). Fortunately, we had booked a guide for a quick morning tour of the capital. We had seven hours to kill, and it seemed smart to do it this way (and yes, sometimes we do think ahead). With him speaking English and, more importantly, Uzbek, the delivery of our suitcases was arranged.
So, we set off to explore the capital. It’s very Soviet in design—wide avenues and ugly buildings.
We visited the Khasti Imam historical complex (first name to pronounce at your own risk—there will be plenty more during the trip). Lots of "oohs" and "aahs" about how beautiful it was, but in the end, compared to what we saw later, it was really just small potatoes.
We checked out Chorsu Bazaar, the city’s large covered market. The guide was friendly and gave us plenty of tips for the rest of the trip. He suggested a restaurant, which we accepted, so we could get familiar with local customs. The good thing was, it didn’t seem like a tourist trap.
Next, we headed to the train station because our train was at 2:30 PM. The guide left us, and then another problem arose. While going through security, one of the staff made it clear that our train was canceled and our ticket needed to be changed to the train leaving around 8:20 PM. Heatwave moment (it was 38°C). Our issue was that we were supposed to arrive in Nukus (our destination) at 6:00 AM and take a minibus for a round trip to Moynaq and the Aral Sea (four hours each way). The plan was to spend 2-3 hours there and return, so a 10-11-hour timeline. Leaving at 6:00 AM made it doable, but with the train now leaving at 8:20 PM, we’d arrive in Nukus at noon, which messed up the rest of the plan.
I was fuming at the agency (I really don’t like using agencies), so I called the local contact, who quickly sent our guide back (because trying to communicate, change tickets, and get information was tough).
I asked the manager to find us flight tickets to make up for the delay, but nothing—zilch—was possible. We were stuck! My buddy and I were determined to get to Moynaq, but the women in the group were less motivated.
No choice but to board the train for an overnight journey. We had a cabin for two (and our friend had one to herself). Big scare at first—no AC, and it felt like 150°. They told us it would work once the train started moving, which it did. A frugal meal in the dining car (spaghetti with meat—the only dish on offer) and we had a good night’s sleep.
The +: Finally, we’re here! The -: A lot of hassles to start the trip
For a long time, the Yukon had been one of those dream travel destinations for us. Its vast wilderness, majestic mountains, and fascinating history tied to the gold rush irresistibly drew us in.
We finally made this ambitious project a reality: a road trip across Canada heading toward the Yukon.
Since the journey from Quebec is considerable, we chose to turn the trip itself into a series of adventures.
Instead of just racking up the kilometers, we made plenty of stops to discover several tourist attractions spread across different provinces.
Along the way, each province offered its share of landscapes and discoveries. We crossed vast forests, admired beautiful lakes, explored historic sites, and visited several local attractions that helped us better appreciate Canada’s diversity.
These breaks made the trip much more enjoyable and allowed us to take the time to fully enjoy each region we visited.
One of the great pleasures of a road trip is the freedom it provides. We could adjust our itinerary based on our mood, extend a visit we particularly enjoyed, or stop spontaneously at a spectacular viewpoint.
Often, it’s these unexpected discoveries that become the best memories.
As we moved northwest, the landscapes became more and more impressive. The roads seemed endless, the mountains drew closer, and nature took on an even greater presence. Traffic gradually thinned out, giving way to a sense of freedom that’s hard to describe.
Arriving in the Yukon marked the culmination of several days of travel. From the first kilometers, we were amazed by the vastness of the territory.
The breathtaking panoramas, the wildlife everywhere, and the unique atmosphere of the Canadian North more than made up for all the kilometers we’d covered.
This road trip to the Yukon reminded us that the destination is important, but the journey is just as much a part of it.
The many stops we made along the way allowed us to discover extraordinary places we probably never would’ve visited otherwise.
Every province we crossed helped make this adventure even more memorable.
The Yukon will certainly remain one of the highlights of our travels, but the memories we gathered along the way hold a special place in our hearts too.
That’s what makes a great Canadian road trip so magical: every kilometer tells a story.
In the upcoming posts, you’ll discover the places that caught our attention throughout this road trip.
Don’t hesitate to watch the videos to complete the experience and explore these attractions as if you were there.
To jump to a specific post, here are the appropriate links:
Roland Lake Falls - Lac-Pythonga (Quebec) | First Stop on the Way to the Yukon Must-See Stops in Ontario Stop at the Center of Canada | Manitoba Stop in Winnipeg (Manitoba) Discovering Regina (Saskatchewan) Stops in Moose Jaw, Chaplin & Saskatoon (Saskatchewan) Stops in Vegreville & Edmonton (Alberta) Stop at West Edmonton Mall, a World of Attractions Under One Roof Stops in Beaverlodge (AB) & Dawson Creek (BC) Adventure on the Alaska Highway: Between Dawson Creek and Liard River (BC) Discovering Liard River Hot Springs (BC) The Sign Post Forest (Watson Lake) Stops at Rancheria Falls, Teslin, and Tagish Discovering Carcross and Its Must-See Spots Carcross Desert Yukon: A Surprising Desert in the Heart of Canada Must-See Stop at Emerald Lake (Yukon) Hike at Miles Canyon (Whitehorse) - Yukon Discovering Whitehorse Spectacular Northern Lights - Fish Lake - Whitehorse (Yukon) Must-See Stops Between Whitehorse and Dawson City Road Trip on the Dempster Highway (Yukon) - 100 km of Adventure Complete Visit of the Historic Town of Dawson City in the Yukon Midnight Dome Dawson City - Magical Northern Lights in the Yukon
We finally made this ambitious project a reality: a road trip across Canada heading toward the Yukon.
Since the journey from Quebec is considerable, we chose to turn the trip itself into a series of adventures.
Instead of just racking up the kilometers, we made plenty of stops to discover several tourist attractions spread across different provinces.
Along the way, each province offered its share of landscapes and discoveries. We crossed vast forests, admired beautiful lakes, explored historic sites, and visited several local attractions that helped us better appreciate Canada’s diversity.
These breaks made the trip much more enjoyable and allowed us to take the time to fully enjoy each region we visited.
One of the great pleasures of a road trip is the freedom it provides. We could adjust our itinerary based on our mood, extend a visit we particularly enjoyed, or stop spontaneously at a spectacular viewpoint.
Often, it’s these unexpected discoveries that become the best memories.
As we moved northwest, the landscapes became more and more impressive. The roads seemed endless, the mountains drew closer, and nature took on an even greater presence. Traffic gradually thinned out, giving way to a sense of freedom that’s hard to describe.
Arriving in the Yukon marked the culmination of several days of travel. From the first kilometers, we were amazed by the vastness of the territory.
The breathtaking panoramas, the wildlife everywhere, and the unique atmosphere of the Canadian North more than made up for all the kilometers we’d covered.
This road trip to the Yukon reminded us that the destination is important, but the journey is just as much a part of it.
The many stops we made along the way allowed us to discover extraordinary places we probably never would’ve visited otherwise.
Every province we crossed helped make this adventure even more memorable.
The Yukon will certainly remain one of the highlights of our travels, but the memories we gathered along the way hold a special place in our hearts too.
That’s what makes a great Canadian road trip so magical: every kilometer tells a story.
In the upcoming posts, you’ll discover the places that caught our attention throughout this road trip.
Don’t hesitate to watch the videos to complete the experience and explore these attractions as if you were there.
To jump to a specific post, here are the appropriate links:
Roland Lake Falls - Lac-Pythonga (Quebec) | First Stop on the Way to the Yukon Must-See Stops in Ontario Stop at the Center of Canada | Manitoba Stop in Winnipeg (Manitoba) Discovering Regina (Saskatchewan) Stops in Moose Jaw, Chaplin & Saskatoon (Saskatchewan) Stops in Vegreville & Edmonton (Alberta) Stop at West Edmonton Mall, a World of Attractions Under One Roof Stops in Beaverlodge (AB) & Dawson Creek (BC) Adventure on the Alaska Highway: Between Dawson Creek and Liard River (BC) Discovering Liard River Hot Springs (BC) The Sign Post Forest (Watson Lake) Stops at Rancheria Falls, Teslin, and Tagish Discovering Carcross and Its Must-See Spots Carcross Desert Yukon: A Surprising Desert in the Heart of Canada Must-See Stop at Emerald Lake (Yukon) Hike at Miles Canyon (Whitehorse) - Yukon Discovering Whitehorse Spectacular Northern Lights - Fish Lake - Whitehorse (Yukon) Must-See Stops Between Whitehorse and Dawson City Road Trip on the Dempster Highway (Yukon) - 100 km of Adventure Complete Visit of the Historic Town of Dawson City in the Yukon Midnight Dome Dawson City - Magical Northern Lights in the Yukon
The chosen title was easy to find: it's from today's French daily newspaper "Le Figaro" (front page, right side, in the "Le Flash actualité" section at 10:31 AM).
Link: https://www.lefigaro.fr/voyages/et-si-votre-prochain-agent-de-voyage-etait-une-intelligence-artificielle-20250414
As some participants had mentioned, a simple query could sometimes yield very satisfying results, even if the initial comments from readers of this article don’t necessarily agree.
Instead of presenting our request in writing, I assume we’ll soon be able to speak to AI orally or even have a conversation with it. Refining our searches to perfection would then be a breeze.
But then, what about travel agencies and travel forums? Will Vfistes, in a twilight atmosphere, keep talking in a closed circle, fewer and fewer of them, until the last one is left monologuing? Will a side effect be that we start addressing our fellow humans in the same cold, dry way we talk to the Machine? Well, some of us have already gotten into that habit... With over 30% of current jobs set to disappear because of AI, will it become possible to quickly and perfectly plan trips we can no longer afford financially? What a paradox!
I admit I haven’t looked into this yet, and one of these days I’ll probably end up talking to the Machine, but for now, I prefer to keep laboriously and methodically planning my upcoming trips, telling myself that at least I’m still good for something...
As some participants had mentioned, a simple query could sometimes yield very satisfying results, even if the initial comments from readers of this article don’t necessarily agree.
Instead of presenting our request in writing, I assume we’ll soon be able to speak to AI orally or even have a conversation with it. Refining our searches to perfection would then be a breeze.
But then, what about travel agencies and travel forums? Will Vfistes, in a twilight atmosphere, keep talking in a closed circle, fewer and fewer of them, until the last one is left monologuing? Will a side effect be that we start addressing our fellow humans in the same cold, dry way we talk to the Machine? Well, some of us have already gotten into that habit... With over 30% of current jobs set to disappear because of AI, will it become possible to quickly and perfectly plan trips we can no longer afford financially? What a paradox!
I admit I haven’t looked into this yet, and one of these days I’ll probably end up talking to the Machine, but for now, I prefer to keep laboriously and methodically planning my upcoming trips, telling myself that at least I’m still good for something...
Hello fellow travel forum members,
This time, it's real, concrete stuff.
We’ll be going on a road trip in September this year (if all goes well, yes, I know it’s a bit superstitious, but I can’t help it, especially with the current family circumstances).
There’ll be four of us: my husband, our two grown kids (20 and 24), and me.
The flights aren’t booked yet because I’m still hesitating over the dates (it’s down to a day or two). They should be finalized by the end of this week or sometime next week.
J1 - Friday, August 29: Brussels-SLC via Amsterdam with KLM (I’d love your opinions on this airline since I’ve never flown with them before) – arrival scheduled for early afternoon. J2 - Saturday, August 30: SLC-Moab J3 - Sunday, August 31: Arches – we’ll see if we can get tickets; otherwise, we’ll wake up at dawn (entries possible without a reservation before 7 am) J4 - Monday, September 1: Arches J5 - Tuesday, September 2: Moab - Grand Teton – night booked J6 - Wednesday, September 3: Grand Teton – night booked J7 - Thursday, September 4: Grand Teton - Jackson J8 - Friday, September 5: Jackson J9 - Saturday, September 6: Jackson – evening: Rodeo (tickets booked) J10 - Sunday, September 7: Jackson - Yellowstone – night booked at Lake Yellowstone J11 - Monday, September 8: Yellowstone – night booked at Canyon Lodge J12 - Tuesday, September 9: Yellowstone – night booked at Canyon Lodge J13 - Wednesday, September 10: Yellowstone – night booked at Old Faithful Snow J14 - Thursday, September 11: Yellowstone – night booked at Old Faithful Snow J15 - Friday, September 12: Yellowstone - SLC J16 - Saturday, September 13: departure from SLC J17 - Sunday, September 14: arrival in Brussels
As I mentioned in the intro, the departure and return dates aren’t set in stone yet. Normally, we’d leave on August 29, which would mean visiting Moab and Arches. Otherwise, we’d leave on August 30 and stay in SLC. Around SLC, we’d explore the area, but I’ll admit I’m a bit stuck on what to do there.
For the return, we’d leave SLC on Saturday, September 13, or Sunday, September 14. Our youngest starts classes on Monday, September 15, but he doesn’t mind starting a day later.
Some things are already booked and paid for and can’t be changed (or only with difficulty), so please keep that in mind in your comments. 😕
I’d love to hear about your experiences with a few questions:
* Is it too ambitious to include Arches in the road trip? Especially since the drives are long, particularly the Moab-Grand Teton stretch.
* What do you recommend doing around SLC?
* Same for Jackson. We’ve decided to spend two full days there to take a break between the national parks.
* For the return, I was wondering if spending a day in SLC before heading back to Europe might be a good idea.
Thanks so much in advance for your advice!
Patricia
This time, it's real, concrete stuff.
We’ll be going on a road trip in September this year (if all goes well, yes, I know it’s a bit superstitious, but I can’t help it, especially with the current family circumstances).
There’ll be four of us: my husband, our two grown kids (20 and 24), and me.
The flights aren’t booked yet because I’m still hesitating over the dates (it’s down to a day or two). They should be finalized by the end of this week or sometime next week.
J1 - Friday, August 29: Brussels-SLC via Amsterdam with KLM (I’d love your opinions on this airline since I’ve never flown with them before) – arrival scheduled for early afternoon. J2 - Saturday, August 30: SLC-Moab J3 - Sunday, August 31: Arches – we’ll see if we can get tickets; otherwise, we’ll wake up at dawn (entries possible without a reservation before 7 am) J4 - Monday, September 1: Arches J5 - Tuesday, September 2: Moab - Grand Teton – night booked J6 - Wednesday, September 3: Grand Teton – night booked J7 - Thursday, September 4: Grand Teton - Jackson J8 - Friday, September 5: Jackson J9 - Saturday, September 6: Jackson – evening: Rodeo (tickets booked) J10 - Sunday, September 7: Jackson - Yellowstone – night booked at Lake Yellowstone J11 - Monday, September 8: Yellowstone – night booked at Canyon Lodge J12 - Tuesday, September 9: Yellowstone – night booked at Canyon Lodge J13 - Wednesday, September 10: Yellowstone – night booked at Old Faithful Snow J14 - Thursday, September 11: Yellowstone – night booked at Old Faithful Snow J15 - Friday, September 12: Yellowstone - SLC J16 - Saturday, September 13: departure from SLC J17 - Sunday, September 14: arrival in Brussels
As I mentioned in the intro, the departure and return dates aren’t set in stone yet. Normally, we’d leave on August 29, which would mean visiting Moab and Arches. Otherwise, we’d leave on August 30 and stay in SLC. Around SLC, we’d explore the area, but I’ll admit I’m a bit stuck on what to do there.
For the return, we’d leave SLC on Saturday, September 13, or Sunday, September 14. Our youngest starts classes on Monday, September 15, but he doesn’t mind starting a day later.
Some things are already booked and paid for and can’t be changed (or only with difficulty), so please keep that in mind in your comments. 😕
I’d love to hear about your experiences with a few questions:
* Is it too ambitious to include Arches in the road trip? Especially since the drives are long, particularly the Moab-Grand Teton stretch.
* What do you recommend doing around SLC?
* Same for Jackson. We’ve decided to spend two full days there to take a break between the national parks.
* For the return, I was wondering if spending a day in SLC before heading back to Europe might be a good idea.
Thanks so much in advance for your advice!
Patricia
Hi,
I swapped my first and last name when I made my reservation. I’d like to know if this could cause any issues for boarding or not? I have a layover in Istanbul on my way to Dubai.
Could you please point me in the right direction?
Thanks in advance
I swapped my first and last name when I made my reservation. I’d like to know if this could cause any issues for boarding or not? I have a layover in Istanbul on my way to Dubai.
Could you please point me in the right direction?
Thanks in advance
Hello,
As part of a 10-month trip to explore and discover South America, we’d like to start our journey in northern Brazil since the timing is perfect for traveling up the Amazon. We’re traveling as a family of five with three kids aged 6, 9, and 18.
Our plan is to leave from Manaus and reach Yurimaguas in Peru via the Amazon, mostly by boat. Since we have plenty of time, we can take breaks to explore the different stops along the way that are worth it. The idea is to eventually head to Colombia via Ecuador later on.
So far, we’ve identified the following stops: - Manaus - Tabatinga - Iquitos - Sumiria Reserve (we’d like to stay there for a week) - Yurimaguas.
We’re thinking of traveling in a cabin/hammock for the longest leg (Manaus to Tabatinga) and just in hammocks for the shorter trips (max 3 days).
I have a few questions: 1. From a safety perspective, is the area we’re planning to cross safe, considering we’ll be with our three kids, the youngest being 6? 2. Isn’t this route a bit too ambitious for our kids? 3. We’re considering adding the Santarém/Manaus leg. Is Santarém a city worth adding to the itinerary? 4. Among the planned stops, which ones deserve a special visit? 5. Do the boat trips always include meals on board, or should we be careful when booking? 6. What would be a reasonable estimate for the duration of this trip to fully enjoy it?
I’ve read quite a bit—like trying to board early to get the best hammock spots, and that travel times can vary depending on currents, stops, and potential technical issues. But that’s not a problem since we have all the time in the world! :)
We’d love to hear from anyone who’s traveled in this area before!
Thanks so much in advance for your help in planning our trip.
Rémy, Céline, Antoine, Sacha, and Paul
As part of a 10-month trip to explore and discover South America, we’d like to start our journey in northern Brazil since the timing is perfect for traveling up the Amazon. We’re traveling as a family of five with three kids aged 6, 9, and 18.
Our plan is to leave from Manaus and reach Yurimaguas in Peru via the Amazon, mostly by boat. Since we have plenty of time, we can take breaks to explore the different stops along the way that are worth it. The idea is to eventually head to Colombia via Ecuador later on.
So far, we’ve identified the following stops: - Manaus - Tabatinga - Iquitos - Sumiria Reserve (we’d like to stay there for a week) - Yurimaguas.
We’re thinking of traveling in a cabin/hammock for the longest leg (Manaus to Tabatinga) and just in hammocks for the shorter trips (max 3 days).
I have a few questions: 1. From a safety perspective, is the area we’re planning to cross safe, considering we’ll be with our three kids, the youngest being 6? 2. Isn’t this route a bit too ambitious for our kids? 3. We’re considering adding the Santarém/Manaus leg. Is Santarém a city worth adding to the itinerary? 4. Among the planned stops, which ones deserve a special visit? 5. Do the boat trips always include meals on board, or should we be careful when booking? 6. What would be a reasonable estimate for the duration of this trip to fully enjoy it?
I’ve read quite a bit—like trying to board early to get the best hammock spots, and that travel times can vary depending on currents, stops, and potential technical issues. But that’s not a problem since we have all the time in the world! :)
We’d love to hear from anyone who’s traveled in this area before!
Thanks so much in advance for your help in planning our trip.
Rémy, Céline, Antoine, Sacha, and Paul
I’ll admit, the hook is intentionally ambiguous 😉
but I really do want to talk about travel, inspired by a side discussion and a recent experience.
The topic is obviously about independent travel, in a closed group—not those hordes of tourists who step off a plane just to flop onto a beach (no judgment, I do it too… rarely).
Have you tried traveling with others? How did it feel? Never again? Always? Do you travel solo by choice (not due to constraints)? Why?
Your turn! !
The topic is obviously about independent travel, in a closed group—not those hordes of tourists who step off a plane just to flop onto a beach (no judgment, I do it too… rarely).
Have you tried traveling with others? How did it feel? Never again? Always? Do you travel solo by choice (not due to constraints)? Why?
Your turn! !
Hello!
After a lot of hesitation between different cruise lines (Explora, Oceania, YC, HAL, NCL) and several destinations like Norway, Ireland, and Iceland,
I finally chose NCL’s Star for Iceland. I had already looked at this itinerary when I went to Scotland in April with CFC, but it was really expensive. You should know that CFC often offers last-minute deals 45 days before departure (the point when you can no longer cancel or modify). So, I got a great opportunity and grabbed it. Departure is on August 23rd.
I finally chose NCL’s Star for Iceland. I had already looked at this itinerary when I went to Scotland in April with CFC, but it was really expensive. You should know that CFC often offers last-minute deals 45 days before departure (the point when you can no longer cancel or modify). So, I got a great opportunity and grabbed it. Departure is on August 23rd.
Hi everyone!
I’m planning the trip of my dreams for next November—Chile! I’d love to get your thoughts on my potential itinerary. I know it’s a big investment in terms of both time and money, so every bit of feedback, suggestion, or info helps immensely. Thank you in advance!!
1-Flight to Santiago
2-Explore Santiago
3-Explore Santiago
4-Bus from STG to Valpo (2h) + visit Valparaíso + night in Viña
5-Visit Valparaíso + bus back to STG (2h)
6-Flight to Calama + bus to San Pedro + explore and acclimate in San Pedro + car rental in the afternoon (+Chaxa?)
7-(Very early) Valle del Arcoíris + Laguna Cejar + Valle de la Luna
8-Laguna Miñiques & Miscanti + Salar de Talar + Laguna Tuyajto
9-Geysers El Tatio early in the morning + Cañón de Guatín + return car
10-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
11-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
12-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
13-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni + return to San Pedro for the night
14-Bus to Calama + flight Calama-La Serena + explore La Serena
15-Excursion to Reserva Pingüino + bonus time (sunset at Playa Tongoy or elsewhere...)
16-Rent a car in Pisco Elqui & Vicuña + Observatory
17-Return car in La Serena + flight Santiago & Puerto Montt (4h)
18-Rent a 4x2 car + drive to Temuco (4h)
19-Reserva Nacional Malalcahuello + hike + night in Temuco
20-Parque Nacional Conguillío then drive and night in Pucón
21-Villarrica Volcano
22-Parque Huerquehue
23-Activities on-site
24-Drive to Valdivia + explore and night there
25-Drive to Puerto Varas (via Frutillar, etc.) + activities on-site
26-Salto Las Cascadas + Parque Nacional Vicente Pérez Rosales (Salto del Petrohué) + Canoeing/Rafting?
27-Drive to Parque Alerce Andino (round trip 3h) + hike Sendero Sargazo?
28-Drive to Castro + explore Chiloé and night in Castro
29-Explore Chiloé
30-Explore Chiloé + return to Puerto Varas
31-Drive to Cochamó (1h30) + drive to Hornopirén (2h30)
32-Ferry to Caleta Gonzalo + drive to Chaitén (1h20)
33-Parque Nacional Pumalín, night in Chaitén
34-Drive to Puyuhuapi + Sendero Ventisquero Yelcho?
35-Ventisquero Colgante + drive to Coyhaique
36-Drive to Villa Cerro Castillo
37-Hike Cerro Castillo
38-Drive to Puerto Río Tranquilo
39-Excursion to Glaciar Exploradores
40-Mármol Cathedral + lake activities
41-Drive to Cochrane
42-Parque Patagonia
43-Drive to Chile Chico
44-Ferry Chile Chico-Ibañez + drive to Coyhaique + drop off car
45-Flight to Punta Arenas (1h30) + explore the city
46-Rent a car + drive to Puerto Natales
47-Drive to Torres del Paine in the morning + hike to the base of the towers (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
48-Torres del Paine hike 2 (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
49-Torres del Paine hike 3 (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
50-Drive to Punta Arenas
51-Flight Punta Arenas-Santiago + flight Santiago-Buenos Aires (2h)
52-Explore Buenos Aires
53-Explore Buenos Aires
54-Explore Buenos Aires
55-Flight back to France
I’m planning the trip of my dreams for next November—Chile! I’d love to get your thoughts on my potential itinerary. I know it’s a big investment in terms of both time and money, so every bit of feedback, suggestion, or info helps immensely. Thank you in advance!!
1-Flight to Santiago
2-Explore Santiago
3-Explore Santiago
4-Bus from STG to Valpo (2h) + visit Valparaíso + night in Viña
5-Visit Valparaíso + bus back to STG (2h)
6-Flight to Calama + bus to San Pedro + explore and acclimate in San Pedro + car rental in the afternoon (+Chaxa?)
7-(Very early) Valle del Arcoíris + Laguna Cejar + Valle de la Luna
8-Laguna Miñiques & Miscanti + Salar de Talar + Laguna Tuyajto
9-Geysers El Tatio early in the morning + Cañón de Guatín + return car
10-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
11-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
12-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni
13-Excursion to Salar de Uyuni + return to San Pedro for the night
14-Bus to Calama + flight Calama-La Serena + explore La Serena
15-Excursion to Reserva Pingüino + bonus time (sunset at Playa Tongoy or elsewhere...)
16-Rent a car in Pisco Elqui & Vicuña + Observatory
17-Return car in La Serena + flight Santiago & Puerto Montt (4h)
18-Rent a 4x2 car + drive to Temuco (4h)
19-Reserva Nacional Malalcahuello + hike + night in Temuco
20-Parque Nacional Conguillío then drive and night in Pucón
21-Villarrica Volcano
22-Parque Huerquehue
23-Activities on-site
24-Drive to Valdivia + explore and night there
25-Drive to Puerto Varas (via Frutillar, etc.) + activities on-site
26-Salto Las Cascadas + Parque Nacional Vicente Pérez Rosales (Salto del Petrohué) + Canoeing/Rafting?
27-Drive to Parque Alerce Andino (round trip 3h) + hike Sendero Sargazo?
28-Drive to Castro + explore Chiloé and night in Castro
29-Explore Chiloé
30-Explore Chiloé + return to Puerto Varas
31-Drive to Cochamó (1h30) + drive to Hornopirén (2h30)
32-Ferry to Caleta Gonzalo + drive to Chaitén (1h20)
33-Parque Nacional Pumalín, night in Chaitén
34-Drive to Puyuhuapi + Sendero Ventisquero Yelcho?
35-Ventisquero Colgante + drive to Coyhaique
36-Drive to Villa Cerro Castillo
37-Hike Cerro Castillo
38-Drive to Puerto Río Tranquilo
39-Excursion to Glaciar Exploradores
40-Mármol Cathedral + lake activities
41-Drive to Cochrane
42-Parque Patagonia
43-Drive to Chile Chico
44-Ferry Chile Chico-Ibañez + drive to Coyhaique + drop off car
45-Flight to Punta Arenas (1h30) + explore the city
46-Rent a car + drive to Puerto Natales
47-Drive to Torres del Paine in the morning + hike to the base of the towers (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
48-Torres del Paine hike 2 (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
49-Torres del Paine hike 3 (return to Puerto Natales for the night)
50-Drive to Punta Arenas
51-Flight Punta Arenas-Santiago + flight Santiago-Buenos Aires (2h)
52-Explore Buenos Aires
53-Explore Buenos Aires
54-Explore Buenos Aires
55-Flight back to France
Hi everyone,
We’re heading to Namibia for the first time at the end of January 2026 for 12 nights as a couple, with a 4x4 rental (no tent). We’re planning to stay in lodges, hotels, or similar. Our goal is to explore Namibia and see as many animals as possible.
We were thinking of following this route:
Windhoek to Sesriem – 2 nights
Sesriem to Omaruru – 2 nights
Omaruru to Ongava (ETOSHA) – 2 nights
Ongava to Onguma (ETOSHA) – 2 nights
Onguma to Okonjima – 2 nights
Okonjima to Windhoek – 2 nights (these last two nights near Windhoek at a lodge like Our Habitas)
What do you think of this plan?
I know we’ll miss a lot of must-see spots, but we only have 12 nights, and the distances between the points of interest we’ve chosen are pretty long.
Also, since January/February is the "rainy season," do you think this itinerary is suitable?
Don’t hesitate to tell me if we’re completely off track or if you’d recommend something totally different—we’re open to any suggestions.
Thanks so much for your time and advice!
Joris
We’re heading to Namibia for the first time at the end of January 2026 for 12 nights as a couple, with a 4x4 rental (no tent). We’re planning to stay in lodges, hotels, or similar. Our goal is to explore Namibia and see as many animals as possible.
We were thinking of following this route:
Windhoek to Sesriem – 2 nights
Sesriem to Omaruru – 2 nights
Omaruru to Ongava (ETOSHA) – 2 nights
Ongava to Onguma (ETOSHA) – 2 nights
Onguma to Okonjima – 2 nights
Okonjima to Windhoek – 2 nights (these last two nights near Windhoek at a lodge like Our Habitas)
What do you think of this plan?
I know we’ll miss a lot of must-see spots, but we only have 12 nights, and the distances between the points of interest we’ve chosen are pretty long.
Also, since January/February is the "rainy season," do you think this itinerary is suitable?
Don’t hesitate to tell me if we’re completely off track or if you’d recommend something totally different—we’re open to any suggestions.
Thanks so much for your time and advice!
Joris
hi,
I’m going on a cruise on the Costa TOSCANA in October, and I’ll be celebrating my birthday there.
I wanted to make it special and try ARCHIPELAGO for the first time.
And also go back to Teppanyaki (I really like their menu and the atmosphere).
I see there’s a package for 3 culinary experiences at 88 €.
According to the description, you can go to the specialty restaurants 3 times.
That price seems really low to me, since Archipelago alone costs around 55 €... and with this package, you could go 3 times?
Plus, there’s another package next to it: 1 Archipelago and 1 Teppanyaki (without specifying the menu) for 80 €.
Has anyone already tried the 3-experience package?
What did you think?
Thanks for your feedback
Hey everyone,
We're currently in Thailand. I'm opening this thread to share practical info for those planning their trip. As for impressions and feelings—I love it, but I'll let everyone form their own opinions. The goal here is more about: how to do this or that, how to get there, etc.
Spitsbergen, 80° North latitude. A lost archipelago on the edge of the world, northeast of Greenland, the last lands before the pole. I’m aboard the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, a Russian ship from the Murmansk Polar Research Institute. Russian flag, Russian crew. Chartered by OceanWide Expeditions.
Last night, we were stuck in drifting pack ice in the long Hinlopen Strait. This incident led to an unforgettable barbecue and party on the ship’s foredeck, but we had to abandon our plan to head south and circle Spitsbergen. This summer, there’s too much ice in the strait, and it’s too thick. At dawn, the tide turned, allowing us to break free and head north again. The ship is now moving slowly through sea ice density that satellite maps estimate at around five-tenths. Our progress is punctuated by dull thuds: the ship’s bow constantly shoves and fractures enormous ice floes.
At breakfast, Tarik, our expedition leader, informs us that our program will be significantly altered. Since we can’t cross the strait, we’ll turn back and head north. To kick off our Plan B, Tarik plans a landing tonight on the small island of Låg (Lågøya), at 80°10' North. Last summer, he saw a large walrus colony there and hopes we’ll find them again. The weather is perfect—glorious sunshine—and walruses are truly addicted to sunbathing on the beaches.
We’ve now exited the strait and are sailing far from the coast. In case the walrus colony is there, we don’t want the ship’s approach to scare them into the water before we even see them. So, we scan the shore methodically with binoculars. We pass several bays, round a cape, and examine several shorelines littered with driftwood, but no walruses in sight. Several times, clusters of large rounded rocks trigger false alarms… but no, they’re just rocks…
Suddenly, Tarik spots them through his binoculars! On an isolated peninsula, our expedition leader’s highly trained eye has picked out, among those brown masses, the shape and white color of the enormous tusks of what he calls "the heavyweights of the Arctic!" Now, fifteen or twenty pairs of binoculars are pointed in the indicated direction… Sure enough, I see them now! They’re there, huge, sprawled in the sun on the beach. Without Tarik’s sharp eye, we might have missed them. They’re so tightly packed together that they really look like a mass of brown rocks. Only the white, saber-shaped tusks and the occasional furtive movements hint that they’re animals.
It’s 11 PM, and on the deck of the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, as you can imagine, excitement has ramped up several notches. Several of us have already rushed to our cabins to gear up, pulling on boots and life jackets in anticipation of a landing that promises to be absolutely amazing. Tarik reins in our enthusiasm a bit: Okay, so we were lucky to find them, but now we need to think about how to approach them. Not that they’re dangerous—at least not on land… Their enormous bulk and their pseudo-feet (flippers) only allow for very limited mobility. But when they feel threatened, their first instinct is to head for the water, where their perfect ease keeps them safe. So, the challenge will be not to scare them off, to avoid them bolting into the water in the first few seconds! That’s exactly what would happen if we arrived by Zodiac right in front of them.
So, Tarik decides we’ll make a wide detour to land on the other side of the peninsula where they are. From there, we’ll leave the Zodiacs on the beach and cross the peninsula on foot, about a kilometer and a half. That way, we’ll approach the herd from behind. This approach will also keep us downwind of them. There you go—with a few precautions, they shouldn’t hear us coming or catch our scent.
Everyone is geared up now and practically bursting with impatience… While the Zodiacs are being lowered into the water, Tarik and Delphine recap the approach rules: absolute silence, communication only by signs, no dragging feet on the rocks, watch your step, and strict coordination with slow movements.
Here we go… we’re off now! Spray flying from the Zodiac’s bow, icy air whipping our faces, gloves gripping the side ropes, freezing splashes, pure emotion… Ahh, I love this! We describe a wide curve offshore to round the peninsula. Ahead of us, the magnificent landscape of this intensely blue sea unfolds, with the hills of Lågøya and, in the distance, the ice-covered mountains of Nordaustlandet under the sun. It’s midnight now. In July, at 80 degrees North, the sun is just like midday.
This navigation takes us far from the walruses, on the other side of the cape. Easy landing on a shoreline of large pebbles covered in giant seaweed brought in by the currents. They look like long strips of plastic—sometimes translucent, sometimes white, beige, or orange. In places, there are huge tangled layers of it. Our boots sink into this material, which gives off a strong iodine smell. Unfortunately, there’s also some plastic waste—fishing floats and net debris. Seeing this here is crazy… A little farther on, in a cove, tides and storms have piled up numerous tree trunks from Siberia.
We begin crossing the peninsula on foot, staying close together. We’re walking on a nearly deserted polar tundra. We’re only ten degrees of latitude from the North Pole here. The violent winds and extreme temperatures that dominate this island for nine months of the year allow only a few rare plants to grow, close to the ground, between the rocks. In places, rocks are covered with large patches of black lichen.
Gérard, rifle slung over his shoulder, constantly scans the terrain. Tarik and Delphine are also very vigilant. We know no one ever lands here, and although this environment isn’t ideal for bears, you never know—better to be cautious. The terrain is mostly flat, but whenever a small rise blocks our view, Gérard moves ahead and only signals us to proceed when he’s sure there’s no "big man in fur" (tradition dictates we don’t name the polar bear).
After a few hundred meters, we find an enormous whale vertebra. Judging by the state of the bone, it’s likely a relic from the whaling era that ravaged this area in the 17th century and all over northern Spitsbergen. A little farther on, the remains of a grave catch our attention. The only human trace on this remote island, this burial is surely very old, also likely dating from the whalers’ time. But this whaler’s final resting place didn’t shelter him for long—there’s not much left, just a piece of skull and a few broken bones. Due to the permafrost, the body could only be buried a few dozen centimeters deep, between some planks held in place by large stones. This makeshift grave was probably ravaged by a bear shortly after the burial. Several stone blocks are overturned, the planks are broken open. We only linger for a minute to pay our respects to this whaler, whose poor remains now merge with the mineral landscape.
A slight rise bulges in the center of the peninsula, and here we are at the highest point. If our orientation is correct, we’re heading straight for the walrus colony. A moment of emotion… my heart’s pounding. Yes, they’re there, about three hundred meters ahead of us! They haven’t moved since we spotted them from the *Grigoriy Mikheev*’s deck. They’re sprawled in a heap, packed tightly together in the sun, on the shingle beach. The light breeze blowing in our faces confirms we’re on the right track—not to be sniffed out from afar by the big beasts.
By signs, Tarik tells us we’ll approach slowly, in stages, moving about thirty meters at a time, making as little noise as possible with our boots, then freezing completely for a minute or two, crouching down to let them forget us. This strategy proves excellent. We’re now less than a hundred meters away, and it doesn’t seem like our presence is perceived as a threat by the "heavyweights of the Arctic." At this distance, let’s not kid ourselves: we’re certainly spotted, but our way of approaching must seem reassuring—or at least manageable—since they’re only a few meters from the water and know they could dash into it in seconds if they felt the need.
We now advance in shorter stages—twenty meters at a time, then just ten, crouching, then freezing like statues, our breathing nearly held from emotion and concentration. We’re now thirty meters from the mastodons. Our presence must be starting to stress them because they’re moving more. While still sprawled against each other, some suddenly rear up on their flipper-feet, grunting and snorting like monstrous pigs. Their head shakes make their two enormous ivory sabers sway. They jab them into the fat of their neighbors, who in turn stir and emit irritated snorts.
At Tarik’s signal, we move a few more meters, "on velvet paws"… We’re right there now. I hold my breath, throat tight… Intense emotion, a fantastic spectacle—these enormous Arctic animals sprawled in the sun, with the magnificent backdrop of snow-covered mountains across the sound. I think to myself: *I’m here… this can’t be real!* It’s nearly 2 AM now, the air is crystal clear, and the Arctic sun bathes this scene in what might be the most beautiful light I’ve ever seen. We’re about fifteen meters away now. Tarik signals that we won’t go any closer. The walruses are still lying down, but occasionally, our close presence and the clicking of cameras trigger bouts of agitation that ripple through the herd, causing some jostling. They’re so tightly packed and tangled that it’s a bit hard to count them. In the end, we tally sixteen, plus one "little one," half-crushed in the general mass.
Seen from here, they’re truly impressive! The "sumo wrestlers of the Arctic!" According to Tarik, they must weigh about a ton—slightly more for the males than the females—and the "little one" must already be around 200 kg. When the weather’s nice like today, they love sprawling on the beaches to soak up the sun.
Walruses are marvels of Arctic adaptation. They can modify their blood circulation depending on thermal conditions. They withstand extreme cold by directing most of their circulation to vital organs (heart, lungs) and minimizing peripheral blood flow (skin and limbs) to prevent heat loss. Conversely, when they sunbathe, they direct most of their blood flow to the skin, turning themselves into true solar collectors.
At this latitude, there’s practically no difference in sunlight between day and night. Noon or midnight, the sun’s angle barely changes. Walruses make the most of these fair-weather phases by sprawling in the sun 23 hours out of 24… Enough to make siesta lovers dream, right? Twenty-three hours of lounging… and the twenty-fourth for eating!
And when we say "eating," what a feast! The proverb *"Who sleeps dines"* is fully justified here: when a walrus decides to feed, it gulps down between 50 and 60 kg of shellfish in an hour! Its food consists of large bivalve mollusks, which it tears from the seabed with its tusks and sucks up nonstop! A 50 kg meal certainly justifies a 23-hour nap for digestion, right? And speaking of digestion—it’s what the "big guys" in front of us are doing right now! You might wonder how we know this… Well, I’ll tell you: if you were here, downwind (or should I say *down the winds!*) of these marine giants, you’d have no doubt! Pfft… what flatulence! I can confirm that today’s scent is called *"Morsanus, from the North"* (*"Because I’m worth it!"*). Mmm, yeah… Tarik, you had a great idea putting us upwind… at least *they* can’t smell us, but we sure can!
But… heepp! Delphine discreetly signals to get our attention—she’s just spotted something: in the smooth water of the bay, a small V-shaped ripple runs along the beach, then turns toward the shore… So the colony wasn’t complete on the beach… Here’s an 800 kg bather stepping ashore now, right before our astonished eyes! She lifts her head and stays like that for a long moment, her enormous tusks half out of the water. She looks exhausted, resting a bit before coming out. Or more likely, she’s hesitating to climb onto the beach because she’s seen us… The shapeless head stays still for a moment, then violently snorts like a clogged drain! A misshapen head where you can’t make out anything that usually makes a head! No eyes, no ears, no mouth… A sort of monstrous cabbage! But the temptation to join the warmth of the "sunbathers" is too strong! Here’s our pachyderm bather climbing the few meters of the shore and sprawling right in the middle of her companions, who greet her with jostling, grunts, and tusk jabs! Then everything settles back into order—800 kg of fat and flesh added to the fifteen or so tons of local biomass. Welcome to the club!
It seems the walruses have gotten a bit used to us now. They’re moving and grunting much less. I realize it wasn’t obvious to approach them like this without scaring them into the water… It’s thanks to Tarik and Delphine’s advice that we managed it. It’s also, let’s be honest, because we’re all passionate here, and there’s been total discipline and cohesion from the start of this approach.
It’s past 2 AM now—time to head back… We’ll leave them to their wild world, to their life at the beginning of the world. We’re happy to have disturbed them as little as possible and not to have disrupted their nap too much. We leave stealthily, first backing up a few meters, then turning around and crossing the peninsula again, walking slowly, avoiding making noise with our boots as long as we’re still close.
We find the Zodiacs on the shoreline with the giant kelp. The sea is like a lake—easy boarding. We make another wide loop to round the cape, passing offshore. The sharp cold stings my cheeks and ears again—I put my hat back on. The cold—I hadn’t thought about it at all during our encounter with the walruses. In the Zodiac, with the engine noise, no one speaks. The faces and smiles are those of men and women who’ve just crossed an inner frontier—the one that separates dream from reality. But tonight, that frontier was porous, and the dream entered reality.
We return to the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, waiting at anchor. It’s past 3 AM, but I don’t feel any fatigue. A few minutes later, I’m in my bunk, rocked by a gentle swell and the hum of the engines. In the soft warmth of the blanket, a strange sleep overtakes me… A sleep filled with luminous, icy landscapes, with large beasts bearing saber-like tusks. Large beasts that sleep, snore, snort, grunt, and jostle in their sleep… in *my* sleep. An unforgettable memory. It was July 2004, in Spitsbergen.
Chris51.
Last night, we were stuck in drifting pack ice in the long Hinlopen Strait. This incident led to an unforgettable barbecue and party on the ship’s foredeck, but we had to abandon our plan to head south and circle Spitsbergen. This summer, there’s too much ice in the strait, and it’s too thick. At dawn, the tide turned, allowing us to break free and head north again. The ship is now moving slowly through sea ice density that satellite maps estimate at around five-tenths. Our progress is punctuated by dull thuds: the ship’s bow constantly shoves and fractures enormous ice floes.
At breakfast, Tarik, our expedition leader, informs us that our program will be significantly altered. Since we can’t cross the strait, we’ll turn back and head north. To kick off our Plan B, Tarik plans a landing tonight on the small island of Låg (Lågøya), at 80°10' North. Last summer, he saw a large walrus colony there and hopes we’ll find them again. The weather is perfect—glorious sunshine—and walruses are truly addicted to sunbathing on the beaches.
We’ve now exited the strait and are sailing far from the coast. In case the walrus colony is there, we don’t want the ship’s approach to scare them into the water before we even see them. So, we scan the shore methodically with binoculars. We pass several bays, round a cape, and examine several shorelines littered with driftwood, but no walruses in sight. Several times, clusters of large rounded rocks trigger false alarms… but no, they’re just rocks…
Suddenly, Tarik spots them through his binoculars! On an isolated peninsula, our expedition leader’s highly trained eye has picked out, among those brown masses, the shape and white color of the enormous tusks of what he calls "the heavyweights of the Arctic!" Now, fifteen or twenty pairs of binoculars are pointed in the indicated direction… Sure enough, I see them now! They’re there, huge, sprawled in the sun on the beach. Without Tarik’s sharp eye, we might have missed them. They’re so tightly packed together that they really look like a mass of brown rocks. Only the white, saber-shaped tusks and the occasional furtive movements hint that they’re animals.
It’s 11 PM, and on the deck of the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, as you can imagine, excitement has ramped up several notches. Several of us have already rushed to our cabins to gear up, pulling on boots and life jackets in anticipation of a landing that promises to be absolutely amazing. Tarik reins in our enthusiasm a bit: Okay, so we were lucky to find them, but now we need to think about how to approach them. Not that they’re dangerous—at least not on land… Their enormous bulk and their pseudo-feet (flippers) only allow for very limited mobility. But when they feel threatened, their first instinct is to head for the water, where their perfect ease keeps them safe. So, the challenge will be not to scare them off, to avoid them bolting into the water in the first few seconds! That’s exactly what would happen if we arrived by Zodiac right in front of them.
So, Tarik decides we’ll make a wide detour to land on the other side of the peninsula where they are. From there, we’ll leave the Zodiacs on the beach and cross the peninsula on foot, about a kilometer and a half. That way, we’ll approach the herd from behind. This approach will also keep us downwind of them. There you go—with a few precautions, they shouldn’t hear us coming or catch our scent.
Everyone is geared up now and practically bursting with impatience… While the Zodiacs are being lowered into the water, Tarik and Delphine recap the approach rules: absolute silence, communication only by signs, no dragging feet on the rocks, watch your step, and strict coordination with slow movements.
Here we go… we’re off now! Spray flying from the Zodiac’s bow, icy air whipping our faces, gloves gripping the side ropes, freezing splashes, pure emotion… Ahh, I love this! We describe a wide curve offshore to round the peninsula. Ahead of us, the magnificent landscape of this intensely blue sea unfolds, with the hills of Lågøya and, in the distance, the ice-covered mountains of Nordaustlandet under the sun. It’s midnight now. In July, at 80 degrees North, the sun is just like midday.
This navigation takes us far from the walruses, on the other side of the cape. Easy landing on a shoreline of large pebbles covered in giant seaweed brought in by the currents. They look like long strips of plastic—sometimes translucent, sometimes white, beige, or orange. In places, there are huge tangled layers of it. Our boots sink into this material, which gives off a strong iodine smell. Unfortunately, there’s also some plastic waste—fishing floats and net debris. Seeing this here is crazy… A little farther on, in a cove, tides and storms have piled up numerous tree trunks from Siberia.
We begin crossing the peninsula on foot, staying close together. We’re walking on a nearly deserted polar tundra. We’re only ten degrees of latitude from the North Pole here. The violent winds and extreme temperatures that dominate this island for nine months of the year allow only a few rare plants to grow, close to the ground, between the rocks. In places, rocks are covered with large patches of black lichen.
Gérard, rifle slung over his shoulder, constantly scans the terrain. Tarik and Delphine are also very vigilant. We know no one ever lands here, and although this environment isn’t ideal for bears, you never know—better to be cautious. The terrain is mostly flat, but whenever a small rise blocks our view, Gérard moves ahead and only signals us to proceed when he’s sure there’s no "big man in fur" (tradition dictates we don’t name the polar bear).
After a few hundred meters, we find an enormous whale vertebra. Judging by the state of the bone, it’s likely a relic from the whaling era that ravaged this area in the 17th century and all over northern Spitsbergen. A little farther on, the remains of a grave catch our attention. The only human trace on this remote island, this burial is surely very old, also likely dating from the whalers’ time. But this whaler’s final resting place didn’t shelter him for long—there’s not much left, just a piece of skull and a few broken bones. Due to the permafrost, the body could only be buried a few dozen centimeters deep, between some planks held in place by large stones. This makeshift grave was probably ravaged by a bear shortly after the burial. Several stone blocks are overturned, the planks are broken open. We only linger for a minute to pay our respects to this whaler, whose poor remains now merge with the mineral landscape.
A slight rise bulges in the center of the peninsula, and here we are at the highest point. If our orientation is correct, we’re heading straight for the walrus colony. A moment of emotion… my heart’s pounding. Yes, they’re there, about three hundred meters ahead of us! They haven’t moved since we spotted them from the *Grigoriy Mikheev*’s deck. They’re sprawled in a heap, packed tightly together in the sun, on the shingle beach. The light breeze blowing in our faces confirms we’re on the right track—not to be sniffed out from afar by the big beasts.
By signs, Tarik tells us we’ll approach slowly, in stages, moving about thirty meters at a time, making as little noise as possible with our boots, then freezing completely for a minute or two, crouching down to let them forget us. This strategy proves excellent. We’re now less than a hundred meters away, and it doesn’t seem like our presence is perceived as a threat by the "heavyweights of the Arctic." At this distance, let’s not kid ourselves: we’re certainly spotted, but our way of approaching must seem reassuring—or at least manageable—since they’re only a few meters from the water and know they could dash into it in seconds if they felt the need.
We now advance in shorter stages—twenty meters at a time, then just ten, crouching, then freezing like statues, our breathing nearly held from emotion and concentration. We’re now thirty meters from the mastodons. Our presence must be starting to stress them because they’re moving more. While still sprawled against each other, some suddenly rear up on their flipper-feet, grunting and snorting like monstrous pigs. Their head shakes make their two enormous ivory sabers sway. They jab them into the fat of their neighbors, who in turn stir and emit irritated snorts.
At Tarik’s signal, we move a few more meters, "on velvet paws"… We’re right there now. I hold my breath, throat tight… Intense emotion, a fantastic spectacle—these enormous Arctic animals sprawled in the sun, with the magnificent backdrop of snow-covered mountains across the sound. I think to myself: *I’m here… this can’t be real!* It’s nearly 2 AM now, the air is crystal clear, and the Arctic sun bathes this scene in what might be the most beautiful light I’ve ever seen. We’re about fifteen meters away now. Tarik signals that we won’t go any closer. The walruses are still lying down, but occasionally, our close presence and the clicking of cameras trigger bouts of agitation that ripple through the herd, causing some jostling. They’re so tightly packed and tangled that it’s a bit hard to count them. In the end, we tally sixteen, plus one "little one," half-crushed in the general mass.
Seen from here, they’re truly impressive! The "sumo wrestlers of the Arctic!" According to Tarik, they must weigh about a ton—slightly more for the males than the females—and the "little one" must already be around 200 kg. When the weather’s nice like today, they love sprawling on the beaches to soak up the sun.
Walruses are marvels of Arctic adaptation. They can modify their blood circulation depending on thermal conditions. They withstand extreme cold by directing most of their circulation to vital organs (heart, lungs) and minimizing peripheral blood flow (skin and limbs) to prevent heat loss. Conversely, when they sunbathe, they direct most of their blood flow to the skin, turning themselves into true solar collectors.
At this latitude, there’s practically no difference in sunlight between day and night. Noon or midnight, the sun’s angle barely changes. Walruses make the most of these fair-weather phases by sprawling in the sun 23 hours out of 24… Enough to make siesta lovers dream, right? Twenty-three hours of lounging… and the twenty-fourth for eating!
And when we say "eating," what a feast! The proverb *"Who sleeps dines"* is fully justified here: when a walrus decides to feed, it gulps down between 50 and 60 kg of shellfish in an hour! Its food consists of large bivalve mollusks, which it tears from the seabed with its tusks and sucks up nonstop! A 50 kg meal certainly justifies a 23-hour nap for digestion, right? And speaking of digestion—it’s what the "big guys" in front of us are doing right now! You might wonder how we know this… Well, I’ll tell you: if you were here, downwind (or should I say *down the winds!*) of these marine giants, you’d have no doubt! Pfft… what flatulence! I can confirm that today’s scent is called *"Morsanus, from the North"* (*"Because I’m worth it!"*). Mmm, yeah… Tarik, you had a great idea putting us upwind… at least *they* can’t smell us, but we sure can!
But… heepp! Delphine discreetly signals to get our attention—she’s just spotted something: in the smooth water of the bay, a small V-shaped ripple runs along the beach, then turns toward the shore… So the colony wasn’t complete on the beach… Here’s an 800 kg bather stepping ashore now, right before our astonished eyes! She lifts her head and stays like that for a long moment, her enormous tusks half out of the water. She looks exhausted, resting a bit before coming out. Or more likely, she’s hesitating to climb onto the beach because she’s seen us… The shapeless head stays still for a moment, then violently snorts like a clogged drain! A misshapen head where you can’t make out anything that usually makes a head! No eyes, no ears, no mouth… A sort of monstrous cabbage! But the temptation to join the warmth of the "sunbathers" is too strong! Here’s our pachyderm bather climbing the few meters of the shore and sprawling right in the middle of her companions, who greet her with jostling, grunts, and tusk jabs! Then everything settles back into order—800 kg of fat and flesh added to the fifteen or so tons of local biomass. Welcome to the club!
It seems the walruses have gotten a bit used to us now. They’re moving and grunting much less. I realize it wasn’t obvious to approach them like this without scaring them into the water… It’s thanks to Tarik and Delphine’s advice that we managed it. It’s also, let’s be honest, because we’re all passionate here, and there’s been total discipline and cohesion from the start of this approach.
It’s past 2 AM now—time to head back… We’ll leave them to their wild world, to their life at the beginning of the world. We’re happy to have disturbed them as little as possible and not to have disrupted their nap too much. We leave stealthily, first backing up a few meters, then turning around and crossing the peninsula again, walking slowly, avoiding making noise with our boots as long as we’re still close.
We find the Zodiacs on the shoreline with the giant kelp. The sea is like a lake—easy boarding. We make another wide loop to round the cape, passing offshore. The sharp cold stings my cheeks and ears again—I put my hat back on. The cold—I hadn’t thought about it at all during our encounter with the walruses. In the Zodiac, with the engine noise, no one speaks. The faces and smiles are those of men and women who’ve just crossed an inner frontier—the one that separates dream from reality. But tonight, that frontier was porous, and the dream entered reality.
We return to the *Grigoriy Mikheev*, waiting at anchor. It’s past 3 AM, but I don’t feel any fatigue. A few minutes later, I’m in my bunk, rocked by a gentle swell and the hum of the engines. In the soft warmth of the blanket, a strange sleep overtakes me… A sleep filled with luminous, icy landscapes, with large beasts bearing saber-like tusks. Large beasts that sleep, snore, snort, grunt, and jostle in their sleep… in *my* sleep. An unforgettable memory. It was July 2004, in Spitsbergen.
Chris51.
Hi everyone,
We traveled to Norway in the summer of 2025, from July 17 to 29, to visit Senja Island and the Lofoten archipelago with a rental car. The common thread of these twelve days was clearly hiking, along with a few visits and experiences, and nights spent in a tent or in the car (which made it possible). We chose Narvik Airport for both arrival and departure for several complementary reasons: the desire to visit nearby Senja Island, slightly more affordable airfare, and finally, the rental price of the vehicle—especially the car model we were looking for. We only made one reservation, for the first campsite, as sleeping in a tent made things much easier. But we had the whole structure of the trip planned, a flexible outline that could adapt to the weather conditions we’d encounter. Senja Island isn’t part of the Lofoten archipelago, and during the early stages of planning this trip, we hadn’t planned to visit it. But its relative proximity to Narvik Airport and, above all, its unique geography definitely made us change our minds. We arrived in Evenes, where Narvik Airport is located, nearly 60 km from the city itself. Our first stop was 40 km further in Bjerkvik on the way to Senja, where there’s a Rema 1000 (a very common supermarket chain in Norway). We needed to buy some food and a gas cartridge for our stove. I’d emailed the store manager beforehand, who told me they didn’t sell them but that the two gas stations in the village were likely to have some in stock.
It was only at the Esso station that I found what I needed, but unfortunately, only one cartridge. Luckily, we quickly realized that most campsites (like in Iceland) have a shared kitchen with hotplates. That single small cartridge was just enough for the few nights we spent outside of campsites... We got our first taste of Norway’s characteristic landscapes:
When we arrived at the Senja campsite, it was already 9:30 PM. A sign announced it was full, but luckily, I’d booked it 10 days earlier. By 10:30 PM, as we settled in to eat, it was still broad daylight, and the thermometer read 25°C—despite being at a latitude of 69° North! We went to bed around midnight, exhausted but under the light of a sun that was still very much present. Thanks to Earth’s tilted axis. We’d anticipated this by buying opaque sleep masks because, yes, at this time of year, it’s daylight all the time.
Friday, July 18:
Today, we planned two hikes on the island and a few stops along the way. The map clearly shows that the deepest fjords are in the north and west. Due to time and accessibility, we focused on the northern part of the island. Our first stop was at the viewing platform in Bergbotn:
Then we headed toward Skaland, the starting point for our first hike. Along the way, we found plenty of reasons to stop—especially since, on this first day of travel, our thirst for Nordic landscapes was far from quenched.
The town of Skaland is very practical: free parking, picnic tables for after the hike, and a Joker convenience store right next door. Our goal was the summit of Husfjellet: 670 m of elevation gain, between 8 and 9 km in length, and an estimated 4 hours and 30 minutes.
This hike offers two major viewpoints. The first overlooks the Bergsoyan islands to the west:
At the summit, the view shifts to the Steinfjorden fjord:
You can even clearly see the "Devil’s Teeth," which we’d see from below later:
In total, the hike took us 4 hours and 30 minutes, including all the breaks. We treated ourselves to an ice cream in Skaland to recharge for the next hike. We hit the road again and stopped at Tungeneset to get a closer look at the Devil’s Teeth:
We continued to Fjordgard, the starting point for our second hike. Fjordgard isn’t very welcoming. There was a time when you could park right at the start of the hike up Mount Segla. Now, everything’s blocked off, and locals have even taken to blocking all possible parking spots nearby. You now have to park outside the town at a paid parking lot (90 NOK for 3 hours), adding an extra 2 km (round trip) of walking. Still, that was just a minor inconvenience because the hike that followed quickly made us forget all about it. The hike is fairly short (2 hours) but still has 520 m of elevation gain. This hike was a stark contrast to the first. This morning, we had sweeping views of the vast landscape. Here, Mount Segla, perched on the edge of the cliff, dominates the foreground:
For those prone to vertigo, it might be best to stay at the foot of the mountain, as the trail climbs right along the cliff edge. And from that point on, you quickly understand what verticality really means...
In total, we took 2 hours and 50 minutes, including breaks and the extra walk to the parking lot. The day was already well underway, and with 1,200 m of cumulative elevation gain, it was time to find a spot to eat and sleep. Since we hadn’t made any reservations, we’d planned to bivouac for the night. We weren’t too picky—just practical—so we decided to sleep in the car at the parking lot for tomorrow morning’s hike, just 5 km from Fjordgard.
We traveled to Norway in the summer of 2025, from July 17 to 29, to visit Senja Island and the Lofoten archipelago with a rental car. The common thread of these twelve days was clearly hiking, along with a few visits and experiences, and nights spent in a tent or in the car (which made it possible). We chose Narvik Airport for both arrival and departure for several complementary reasons: the desire to visit nearby Senja Island, slightly more affordable airfare, and finally, the rental price of the vehicle—especially the car model we were looking for. We only made one reservation, for the first campsite, as sleeping in a tent made things much easier. But we had the whole structure of the trip planned, a flexible outline that could adapt to the weather conditions we’d encounter. Senja Island isn’t part of the Lofoten archipelago, and during the early stages of planning this trip, we hadn’t planned to visit it. But its relative proximity to Narvik Airport and, above all, its unique geography definitely made us change our minds. We arrived in Evenes, where Narvik Airport is located, nearly 60 km from the city itself. Our first stop was 40 km further in Bjerkvik on the way to Senja, where there’s a Rema 1000 (a very common supermarket chain in Norway). We needed to buy some food and a gas cartridge for our stove. I’d emailed the store manager beforehand, who told me they didn’t sell them but that the two gas stations in the village were likely to have some in stock.
It was only at the Esso station that I found what I needed, but unfortunately, only one cartridge. Luckily, we quickly realized that most campsites (like in Iceland) have a shared kitchen with hotplates. That single small cartridge was just enough for the few nights we spent outside of campsites... We got our first taste of Norway’s characteristic landscapes:
When we arrived at the Senja campsite, it was already 9:30 PM. A sign announced it was full, but luckily, I’d booked it 10 days earlier. By 10:30 PM, as we settled in to eat, it was still broad daylight, and the thermometer read 25°C—despite being at a latitude of 69° North! We went to bed around midnight, exhausted but under the light of a sun that was still very much present. Thanks to Earth’s tilted axis. We’d anticipated this by buying opaque sleep masks because, yes, at this time of year, it’s daylight all the time.
Friday, July 18:
Today, we planned two hikes on the island and a few stops along the way. The map clearly shows that the deepest fjords are in the north and west. Due to time and accessibility, we focused on the northern part of the island. Our first stop was at the viewing platform in Bergbotn:
Then we headed toward Skaland, the starting point for our first hike. Along the way, we found plenty of reasons to stop—especially since, on this first day of travel, our thirst for Nordic landscapes was far from quenched.
The town of Skaland is very practical: free parking, picnic tables for after the hike, and a Joker convenience store right next door. Our goal was the summit of Husfjellet: 670 m of elevation gain, between 8 and 9 km in length, and an estimated 4 hours and 30 minutes.
This hike offers two major viewpoints. The first overlooks the Bergsoyan islands to the west:
At the summit, the view shifts to the Steinfjorden fjord:
You can even clearly see the "Devil’s Teeth," which we’d see from below later:
In total, the hike took us 4 hours and 30 minutes, including all the breaks. We treated ourselves to an ice cream in Skaland to recharge for the next hike. We hit the road again and stopped at Tungeneset to get a closer look at the Devil’s Teeth:
We continued to Fjordgard, the starting point for our second hike. Fjordgard isn’t very welcoming. There was a time when you could park right at the start of the hike up Mount Segla. Now, everything’s blocked off, and locals have even taken to blocking all possible parking spots nearby. You now have to park outside the town at a paid parking lot (90 NOK for 3 hours), adding an extra 2 km (round trip) of walking. Still, that was just a minor inconvenience because the hike that followed quickly made us forget all about it. The hike is fairly short (2 hours) but still has 520 m of elevation gain. This hike was a stark contrast to the first. This morning, we had sweeping views of the vast landscape. Here, Mount Segla, perched on the edge of the cliff, dominates the foreground:
For those prone to vertigo, it might be best to stay at the foot of the mountain, as the trail climbs right along the cliff edge. And from that point on, you quickly understand what verticality really means...
In total, we took 2 hours and 50 minutes, including breaks and the extra walk to the parking lot. The day was already well underway, and with 1,200 m of cumulative elevation gain, it was time to find a spot to eat and sleep. Since we hadn’t made any reservations, we’d planned to bivouac for the night. We weren’t too picky—just practical—so we decided to sleep in the car at the parking lot for tomorrow morning’s hike, just 5 km from Fjordgard.
Hi everyone,
For traveling in Rajasthan by train and bus, could you give me some info: where to buy tickets, cost, purchase locations, websites, etc.?
Any tips you have would be super helpful.
Thanks
Hi there,
I’m right in the middle of planning a trip to the American West—23 days from 07/30 to 08/23.
Departure from Orly to Los Angeles with a layover in San Francisco, and return from Los Angeles to Orly.
Day 1: Orly - San Francisco (1 night)
Day 2 & 3: Los Angeles (2 nights)
Day 4, 5 & 6: San Francisco (3 nights)
Day 7: Lake Tahoe (1 night)
Day 8 & 9: Portland (2 nights)
Day 10, 11 & 12: Seattle (3 nights)
Day 13 & 14: Yellowstone (2 nights)
Day 15 & 16: Salt Lake City (2 nights)
Day 17 & 18: Las Vegas (2 nights)
Day 19 & 20: Grand Canyon (2 nights)
Day 21 & 22: Los Angeles (2 nights)
Day 23: Return flight (1 night in the air)
The flight’s already booked: 2250 € for 3 people. Car’s reserved—just finalized the last booking today: a Rav4 for 23 days from Sixt in Santa Monica, 715 € (all insurance included). Hotels are booked with free cancellation since I keep finding better options, and the itinerary isn’t 100% set yet.
The flight’s already booked: 2250 € for 3 people. Car’s reserved—just finalized the last booking today: a Rav4 for 23 days from Sixt in Santa Monica, 715 € (all insurance included). Hotels are booked with free cancellation since I keep finding better options, and the itinerary isn’t 100% set yet.
"In one place, in one day, a single deed accomplished,
May hold the theater filled until the end."
- Sunday morning, a chilly dawn - The kitchen - Smell of coffee and toast, a jar of honey on the table.
- Tits pecking at sunflower seeds in the transparent feeder stuck to the window.
- France Musique on the radio: Brahms, violin concerto by the lovely Hilary Hahn - Characters: - An old man in a plush dark blue dressing gown - An old woman in a worn-out duck-blue dressing gown. They dance cheek to cheek, the woman’s head resting on the old man’s broad chest. The old man breathes in the tangled hair of the lady. She smiles. Happy. Tomorrow, they’re off on a trip.
- Sunday morning, a chilly dawn - The kitchen - Smell of coffee and toast, a jar of honey on the table.
- Tits pecking at sunflower seeds in the transparent feeder stuck to the window.
- France Musique on the radio: Brahms, violin concerto by the lovely Hilary Hahn - Characters: - An old man in a plush dark blue dressing gown - An old woman in a worn-out duck-blue dressing gown. They dance cheek to cheek, the woman’s head resting on the old man’s broad chest. The old man breathes in the tangled hair of the lady. She smiles. Happy. Tomorrow, they’re off on a trip.
Hi everyone,
I’m currently working on a 30-day itinerary for May/June 2027.
10 days in eastern Java (Malang, Bromo, waterfalls, Meru Beriti Park, Banyuwangi, and Ijen), a short transit in Ubud for a few days, then Flores before heading back to Jakarta.
We’ll spend 15 days in Flores (the classic route: Moni, Bajawa, Riung, Ruteng, ending in Labuan Bajo).
I’d love some firsthand feedback on flights to Maumere or Ende from Bali Denpasar. I know there are no direct routes and that you have to connect through Labuan Bajo or Timor (I think), which isn’t an issue in itself.
But I’ve read here and there that flights to these destinations can be delayed—or worse, canceled—and that it’s better to fly in and out of Labuan Bajo, which isn’t exactly ideal...
Thanks for any tips or experiences you can share!
Hi there,
I'm urgently planning a trip to Tunisia in November, backpacker-style (no agency, no guide or taxi, public transport, youth hostels or small hotels, local restaurants). I'm not interested in the beach, and I like to take my time at archaeological sites and museums (twice as long as the average visitor). I'm aiming for about two weeks, give or take.
First, I'm trying to roughly outline a route/schedule so I can book my flight as soon as possible (no desert in the south this time—I went there years ago and want to stay independent). I’ve sketched out the following itinerary, knowing that apparently, there are quite a few towns without budget-friendly hotels (even on Airbnb), which means I’ll be staying longer where they’re available. Three questions: 1. Does this seem reasonable overall (time spent in each city)? 2. Should I add other cities, maybe in the northwest? 3. For hotels, in November, is it better to scout options on booking sites first, then book on the spot for cheaper rates (no site commission + possible negotiation)? Also, are hotels not listed online and found randomly on-site much cheaper?
ROUGH ITINERARY (order to be confirmed)
TUNIS 5 days (cheap accommodations: 13 or 19 €) 2 days: Medina, souks, Bardo Museum, Royal Mausoleum of Tourbet El Bey, Zitouna Mosque (exterior) 1 day: Sidi Bou Said 1 day: Carthage 1 day: A-R Dougga (bus to Tebersouk 2h + taxi) – pack a picnic + option: hike to Zaghouan (750m+, 10km round trip) – worth it? Doable alone?
KAIROUAN 2 days (very expensive room: 40-50 €!) Great Mosque, Medina, Three Doors Mosque, medieval cemetery, Sidi Sahbi Mosque...
SOUSSE 3 days (room 15 €) 2 days: Medina, archaeological museum, Port El Kantaoui, the Ribat (fortress), Contemporary Art Museum Dar Am Taïeb, Dar Essid (17th-century traditional house) 1 day: A-R El Jem (60km away) + option: 1 day A-R Monastir? Worth it? + option: 1 day A-R Mahdia (or 2 days sleeping there)?
OPTIONS -> Gabes to mix things up? But is it easy to find cheap lodging and get around/visit alone? -> Other sights or stops to sleep: Sfax, El Kef, others? -> Kerkenna Islands (easy accommodation?)
Thanks for your thoughts and opinions on these options. Once I’ve adjusted the duration, I’ll book my tickets for early November! (By the way, do you think I should arrive and depart from two different airports?)
I'm urgently planning a trip to Tunisia in November, backpacker-style (no agency, no guide or taxi, public transport, youth hostels or small hotels, local restaurants). I'm not interested in the beach, and I like to take my time at archaeological sites and museums (twice as long as the average visitor). I'm aiming for about two weeks, give or take.
First, I'm trying to roughly outline a route/schedule so I can book my flight as soon as possible (no desert in the south this time—I went there years ago and want to stay independent). I’ve sketched out the following itinerary, knowing that apparently, there are quite a few towns without budget-friendly hotels (even on Airbnb), which means I’ll be staying longer where they’re available. Three questions: 1. Does this seem reasonable overall (time spent in each city)? 2. Should I add other cities, maybe in the northwest? 3. For hotels, in November, is it better to scout options on booking sites first, then book on the spot for cheaper rates (no site commission + possible negotiation)? Also, are hotels not listed online and found randomly on-site much cheaper?
ROUGH ITINERARY (order to be confirmed)
TUNIS 5 days (cheap accommodations: 13 or 19 €) 2 days: Medina, souks, Bardo Museum, Royal Mausoleum of Tourbet El Bey, Zitouna Mosque (exterior) 1 day: Sidi Bou Said 1 day: Carthage 1 day: A-R Dougga (bus to Tebersouk 2h + taxi) – pack a picnic + option: hike to Zaghouan (750m+, 10km round trip) – worth it? Doable alone?
KAIROUAN 2 days (very expensive room: 40-50 €!) Great Mosque, Medina, Three Doors Mosque, medieval cemetery, Sidi Sahbi Mosque...
SOUSSE 3 days (room 15 €) 2 days: Medina, archaeological museum, Port El Kantaoui, the Ribat (fortress), Contemporary Art Museum Dar Am Taïeb, Dar Essid (17th-century traditional house) 1 day: A-R El Jem (60km away) + option: 1 day A-R Monastir? Worth it? + option: 1 day A-R Mahdia (or 2 days sleeping there)?
OPTIONS -> Gabes to mix things up? But is it easy to find cheap lodging and get around/visit alone? -> Other sights or stops to sleep: Sfax, El Kef, others? -> Kerkenna Islands (easy accommodation?)
Thanks for your thoughts and opinions on these options. Once I’ve adjusted the duration, I’ll book my tickets for early November! (By the way, do you think I should arrive and depart from two different airports?)
Hi there
We’re planning to do this route as a self-drive trip. There’ll be six of us, so with a large car—is the drive between Durban and Johannesburg manageable? Thanks for your feedback! Day 2: Cape Town Day 3: Cape of Good Hope Day 4: Hermanus, Cape Agulhas Day 5: Wine Route Day 6: Cape Town → Durban (flight) → St. Lucia Day 7: St. Lucia Day 8: Hluhluwe Day 9: Mlilwane Day 10: Sabi Sand Day 11: Sabi Sand Day 12: Kruger Day 13: Panoramic Route Day 14: Balule → Johannesburg
We’re planning to do this route as a self-drive trip. There’ll be six of us, so with a large car—is the drive between Durban and Johannesburg manageable? Thanks for your feedback! Day 2: Cape Town Day 3: Cape of Good Hope Day 4: Hermanus, Cape Agulhas Day 5: Wine Route Day 6: Cape Town → Durban (flight) → St. Lucia Day 7: St. Lucia Day 8: Hluhluwe Day 9: Mlilwane Day 10: Sabi Sand Day 11: Sabi Sand Day 12: Kruger Day 13: Panoramic Route Day 14: Balule → Johannesburg
Mid-June, two Auvergnats on the starting blocks—off we go to the former Yugoslavia!
We’d already explored some nooks and crannies of northern Croatia back in 2019, so we’re keeping the momentum going by planning a trip to the south of the country and then Montenegro.
On the way back, we’ll drift into Bosnia-Herzegovina just to mix things up a bit!
We’re a little unsure about what to expect in terms of tourist crowds.
Dubrovnik has a reputation for being the hardest-hit city by overtourism, and Kotor and the whole Dalmatian coast aren’t exactly empty...
Luckily, most European countries haven’t started school holidays yet, and some measures seem to have been put in place to limit the flow (like restrictions on the number of cruise ships allowed to dock at the same time).
Maybe we’ll manage to escape the promised hell?
For now, we’re slamming the doors of the Scirocco and heading off to our first stop: northern Italy!
On the way back, we’ll drift into Bosnia-Herzegovina just to mix things up a bit!
We’re a little unsure about what to expect in terms of tourist crowds.
Dubrovnik has a reputation for being the hardest-hit city by overtourism, and Kotor and the whole Dalmatian coast aren’t exactly empty...
Luckily, most European countries haven’t started school holidays yet, and some measures seem to have been put in place to limit the flow (like restrictions on the number of cruise ships allowed to dock at the same time).
Maybe we’ll manage to escape the promised hell?
For now, we’re slamming the doors of the Scirocco and heading off to our first stop: northern Italy!
In this time of general travel-journal scarcity, I’m stepping up to tell you about a far-too-short getaway to the Top West End, a local term for the very northern part of Western Australia, right on the border ( ;) ) with the Northern Territory.
As usual, I didn’t manage to keep it short, but this time I’ve got photos to go with it!
August 2020. Since the opportunities to explore the world are extremely limited right now, all we (R&X) can do is explore our own island! Well, just a part of it, because with the state borders still closed, we’re stuck in Western Australia (WA).
Luckily, we’re pretty fortunate because this state is huge: over 2.5 million km² (that’s more than four times the size of France or 1.5 times Quebec). What’s more, stretching over 20 degrees of latitude between the Antarctic Ocean and the Timor Sea, you’ll find climates ranging from Mediterranean to arid to tropical. That’s actually why we decided to head as far north as possible. Sick of the endless rainy winter in Perth, bring on the heat of the Kimberley... way up Nooorth!
Friday. At the airport, the main terminal was closed (not enough flights), so we ended up in the annex (where flights to the various mines usually depart from). There was no crowd at the gate, and in this huge, single departure lounge, empty seats were plentiful. Only three flights were listed on the screens for the rest of the morning: the first to Coondewanna (?), the second to Darwin, and ours to Kununurra (code KNX).
A cool breeze swept through the half-open corridors along the runways. At the top of the walkway leading to the Fokker 100 (the Airbuses and Boeings are now parked!), a flight attendant greeted us with a basket full of sanitary masks. We were actually the only masked passengers (the staff weren’t wearing them either). With zero Covid-19 cases in WA at the time, the only rule was to maintain social distancing—something pretty hard to do on a full plane!
It was also my first time wearing a mask—it felt weird, pretty uncomfortable, and after a while, painful behind the ears. I really feel for those who have to wear one all day, every day. The flight lasted three long hours, but luckily, I had a good book. From the window, I watched an endless expanse of salt lakes in all shapes and sizes—round, elongated, gray, white, sometimes blue and green—and an infinity of winding, capricious meanders, along with long straight lines that led nowhere. The last half-hour got more interesting as rocky, swollen formations and long, sloping plateaus appeared. Against the vast ochre landscape, green patches became more frequent.
Just before landing, rows of green fields briefly appeared, along with an surprisingly wide river—but we were already rolling down the tarmac. A few hangars, a myriad of small, stationary planes, and a tiny terminal topped with a sign: “Welcome to Kununurra.”
We wanted heat, and here it was—34°C the moment we stepped off the plane! We felt alive again and totally ridiculous in our jeans and sweaters. We quickly grabbed our suitcase and picked up the 4x4 we’d rented—more out of necessity, since only that type of vehicle can access the national parks we planned to visit.
Just four kilometers separated us from Kununurra, a town of 5,000 people founded in 1961 during the construction of the Lake Argyle Dam and the development of the Ord River Irrigation Area Scheme (more on that later). On the horizon, mountain ranges (a bit of an exaggeration, since we know Mt. Meharry, WA’s highest ‘mountain,’ doesn’t even reach 1,250 meters!) and closer to the road, a few irrigation canals cutting through stretches of bush, then a huge park overlooking a small lake lined with reeds.
A row of baobabs (yes, there are baobabs in Australia too!), a series of motels with immaculate lawns, a gas station, and there’s the main street leading to the town center—that is, the parking lots of the two supermarkets, the bottleshop, the pub, the Town Hall, the municipal pool, and the Tourist Office (already closed!), and at the next roundabout, another park, the Presbyterian church, and a few other shops. In short, two or three green blocks that you can explore in no time.
One road leads to the small industrial area and one of the town’s three or four campgrounds, while another heads toward the residential neighborhoods, which look just like the typical suburbs you find in any Australian city—except with tropical vegetation. We stocked up at Coles, an identical copy of the one near our place, and—surprise—the prices were practically the same.
We checked into one of the motels. The receptionist listed the town’s three or four restaurants, insisting that it’s always better to book a table. She recommended the Pump House, a bit outside town on the lake’s edge. “Best spot to watch the sunset, but hurry up.” she told us. It was only 5:00 PM!
When we got there half an hour later, the place was packed, and the sun had already disappeared behind a row of trees! Sure enough, we’d see a few days later that the sunset can be a stunning spectacle—if you wait a bit for the sky (especially if it’s cloudy) to blaze and reflect in the lake’s calm waters. A little disappointed, we headed back into town, where we easily found the other lively spot in town: the pub (nothing like an old English pub). Above the long L-shaped bar, several giant screens (thankfully muted) were broadcasting live footy, rugby league, etc. In one corner, players circled the pool table, while in another, customers were digging into plates of the day’s special. Instead of rooms, there were various patios where groups of friends and coworkers (easily recognizable by the fluoro vests they were still wearing) were gathered. We found a table under a mango tree—unfortunately, a little too close to the guitarist strumming his entire Country Music repertoire, complete with Keith Urban-style tremolos. Guaranteed culture shock!
Since it’s the custom here, we called the Country Club to book a table before the kitchen closed! The CC is the town’s—and even the region’s—fancy spot. Dark decor, modern furniture, dim lighting, and the air conditioning blasting. The twenty or so customers had taken refuge on the vast terrace, lit by torches. The view of the tall eucalyptus trees, illuminated by spotlights shifting from red to blue, was breathtaking.
The menu was minimal, but the grilled salmon was excellent, and the Pavlova (the meringue dessert Kiwis and Aussies have been arguing over since 1906) with melon and watermelon was absolutely divine.
It wasn’t even 9:00 PM, and we were already in bed. Had we already adopted the Top West End’s chicken schedule?!
To be continued... Journal dedicated to Attila
As usual, I didn’t manage to keep it short, but this time I’ve got photos to go with it!
August 2020. Since the opportunities to explore the world are extremely limited right now, all we (R&X) can do is explore our own island! Well, just a part of it, because with the state borders still closed, we’re stuck in Western Australia (WA).
Luckily, we’re pretty fortunate because this state is huge: over 2.5 million km² (that’s more than four times the size of France or 1.5 times Quebec). What’s more, stretching over 20 degrees of latitude between the Antarctic Ocean and the Timor Sea, you’ll find climates ranging from Mediterranean to arid to tropical. That’s actually why we decided to head as far north as possible. Sick of the endless rainy winter in Perth, bring on the heat of the Kimberley... way up Nooorth!
Friday. At the airport, the main terminal was closed (not enough flights), so we ended up in the annex (where flights to the various mines usually depart from). There was no crowd at the gate, and in this huge, single departure lounge, empty seats were plentiful. Only three flights were listed on the screens for the rest of the morning: the first to Coondewanna (?), the second to Darwin, and ours to Kununurra (code KNX).
A cool breeze swept through the half-open corridors along the runways. At the top of the walkway leading to the Fokker 100 (the Airbuses and Boeings are now parked!), a flight attendant greeted us with a basket full of sanitary masks. We were actually the only masked passengers (the staff weren’t wearing them either). With zero Covid-19 cases in WA at the time, the only rule was to maintain social distancing—something pretty hard to do on a full plane!
It was also my first time wearing a mask—it felt weird, pretty uncomfortable, and after a while, painful behind the ears. I really feel for those who have to wear one all day, every day. The flight lasted three long hours, but luckily, I had a good book. From the window, I watched an endless expanse of salt lakes in all shapes and sizes—round, elongated, gray, white, sometimes blue and green—and an infinity of winding, capricious meanders, along with long straight lines that led nowhere. The last half-hour got more interesting as rocky, swollen formations and long, sloping plateaus appeared. Against the vast ochre landscape, green patches became more frequent.
Just before landing, rows of green fields briefly appeared, along with an surprisingly wide river—but we were already rolling down the tarmac. A few hangars, a myriad of small, stationary planes, and a tiny terminal topped with a sign: “Welcome to Kununurra.”
We wanted heat, and here it was—34°C the moment we stepped off the plane! We felt alive again and totally ridiculous in our jeans and sweaters. We quickly grabbed our suitcase and picked up the 4x4 we’d rented—more out of necessity, since only that type of vehicle can access the national parks we planned to visit.
Just four kilometers separated us from Kununurra, a town of 5,000 people founded in 1961 during the construction of the Lake Argyle Dam and the development of the Ord River Irrigation Area Scheme (more on that later). On the horizon, mountain ranges (a bit of an exaggeration, since we know Mt. Meharry, WA’s highest ‘mountain,’ doesn’t even reach 1,250 meters!) and closer to the road, a few irrigation canals cutting through stretches of bush, then a huge park overlooking a small lake lined with reeds.
A row of baobabs (yes, there are baobabs in Australia too!), a series of motels with immaculate lawns, a gas station, and there’s the main street leading to the town center—that is, the parking lots of the two supermarkets, the bottleshop, the pub, the Town Hall, the municipal pool, and the Tourist Office (already closed!), and at the next roundabout, another park, the Presbyterian church, and a few other shops. In short, two or three green blocks that you can explore in no time.
One road leads to the small industrial area and one of the town’s three or four campgrounds, while another heads toward the residential neighborhoods, which look just like the typical suburbs you find in any Australian city—except with tropical vegetation. We stocked up at Coles, an identical copy of the one near our place, and—surprise—the prices were practically the same.
We checked into one of the motels. The receptionist listed the town’s three or four restaurants, insisting that it’s always better to book a table. She recommended the Pump House, a bit outside town on the lake’s edge. “Best spot to watch the sunset, but hurry up.” she told us. It was only 5:00 PM!
When we got there half an hour later, the place was packed, and the sun had already disappeared behind a row of trees! Sure enough, we’d see a few days later that the sunset can be a stunning spectacle—if you wait a bit for the sky (especially if it’s cloudy) to blaze and reflect in the lake’s calm waters. A little disappointed, we headed back into town, where we easily found the other lively spot in town: the pub (nothing like an old English pub). Above the long L-shaped bar, several giant screens (thankfully muted) were broadcasting live footy, rugby league, etc. In one corner, players circled the pool table, while in another, customers were digging into plates of the day’s special. Instead of rooms, there were various patios where groups of friends and coworkers (easily recognizable by the fluoro vests they were still wearing) were gathered. We found a table under a mango tree—unfortunately, a little too close to the guitarist strumming his entire Country Music repertoire, complete with Keith Urban-style tremolos. Guaranteed culture shock!
Since it’s the custom here, we called the Country Club to book a table before the kitchen closed! The CC is the town’s—and even the region’s—fancy spot. Dark decor, modern furniture, dim lighting, and the air conditioning blasting. The twenty or so customers had taken refuge on the vast terrace, lit by torches. The view of the tall eucalyptus trees, illuminated by spotlights shifting from red to blue, was breathtaking.
The menu was minimal, but the grilled salmon was excellent, and the Pavlova (the meringue dessert Kiwis and Aussies have been arguing over since 1906) with melon and watermelon was absolutely divine.
It wasn’t even 9:00 PM, and we were already in bed. Had we already adopted the Top West End’s chicken schedule?!
To be continued... Journal dedicated to Attila
Hi everyone,
I’m a 67-year-old woman who loves to travel, and for my third solo trip, I’ve decided to explore Indonesia.
I’ll be there from September 1st to October 5th, and I’m really struggling to plan my itinerary.
I’d love any advice you can share—I’ll read it all carefully.
So far, I’ve booked my first two nights with a local host in Jakarta, and then I’m heading to Borobudur. That’s all I’ve got planned for now.
Do you think I should book accommodations and transport tickets in advance? It seems really complicated, or could I just decide day by day based on how I feel?
Thanks in advance for your replies!
I’m sharing my successful e-Visa application experience because I’ll admit—I really struggled with the website and gathering all the required documents.
https://www.thaiembassy.fr/fr/visa-rdv/les-types-de-visa-et-les-documents-necessaires/visa-touristique/
I recommend preparing everything in advance according to the instructions below and trying to complete the 60-day TR tourist e-Visa application in one go. You can save and return to it later, but I didn’t find the site very intuitive (it took a lot of time to figure out how it works, etc.). For the 60-day TR tourist e-Visa, it took me about 2 to 3 hours to prepare all the required documents and fill out the online form completely. (Next time, though, it’ll take me much less time since I’ll know how it works better, etc.).
I received my e-Visa 15 days later, but according to the embassy, the processing time can be much longer (the embassy recommends in section 4.3: “We advise you to submit your visa application between 2 and 3 months before your planned departure.”)
https://www.thaiembassy.fr/fr/visa-rdv/infos-generales/
⚠️ RECOMMENDATION: 4 months before applying (so 6 months before your trip if you apply 2 months ahead), make sure your bank statements show a minimum balance of 700 € for each of the 3 months prior to your application.
DOCUMENTS REQUIRED FOR THE 60-DAY TR SINGLE-ENTRY E-VISA IN THAILAND
A digital copy of your passport: Color copy of the double-page spread with your photo. It must show the entire machine-readable zone (the two lines of characters at the bottom) and all four corners of the page. Your passport must be valid for at least 6 months after your departure date. (Format: JPEG or PDF) A color ID photo: Official ID photo on a plain white background, max 3 MB in size, and taken within the last 6 months. If you use the same photo as the one printed in your passport (if it was issued 2 years ago, for example), the system will detect the inconsistency and reject your application. The background must be strictly white, with no shadows, no glasses, and your face must be fully visible. Proof of financial means: Official bank statements (checking and/or savings) for the last 3 months. They must clearly display your name and show a minimum balance of 700 € for each month (1,000 € is preferable), per person (even for couples). Bank statement format and date: Screenshots from mobile banking apps (without your name or the bank’s logo) are systematically rejected. You must provide the full official statement in PDF format, downloaded from your online banking. Additionally, the most recent statement must be less than 30 days old at the time of submission. Don’t forget to merge the 3 statements into a single PDF, as only one document can be uploaded per category. Entry and exit tickets: A reservation or confirmation of flight tickets showing your entry into and exit from Thailand. The document must include the PNR (Passenger Name Record: a 6-character booking code used as a reference by the airline) and/or the e-ticket number.
90-day rule: Your exit flight date must not exceed 90 days after your arrival in Thailand. If you have separate tickets: If you have two different tickets for entry and exit, merge them into a single document showing only the entry and exit from Thailand within 90 days (exclude other flights). For example, if you have a round-trip Paris-Bangkok ticket spaced 6 months apart but plan to stay in Indonesia after 60 or 90 days, only submit the inbound flight to Thailand from your first ticket (exclude the return flight that’s 6 months later) and the outbound flight from Thailand to Indonesia (without the flight out of Indonesia, which is likely separate). Merge the two PDFs into one.
Proof of residence in France (less than 3 months old): Mobile phone, landline, internet, or electricity bill in your name. This document must prove that you currently reside in the country from which you’re applying. (Format: PDF or JPEG)
Hotel reservation in your name: Covering the first few nights with your name on it, or an official invitation letter signed by your host along with a copy of their ID. (Format: PDF or JPEG)
⚠️ FOR COUPLES: The official confirmation of your first accommodation in Thailand (hotel, Airbnb) must clearly display the names of BOTH members of the couple, as it will need to be attached to each individual e-Visa application. The second name is essential because each visa applicant must provide proof of accommodation in their name. If your partner’s name doesn’t appear anywhere on the hotel document, their visa application may be blocked or rejected, even if you include a marriage certificate. Prepare the addresses of the first two hotels for the online form; Write down (on paper) the exact address of the first hotel and the next one, as the form also asks for the address of the second hotel (without requiring proof of reservation). Look up the name of the sub-district, district, and province of these establishments online. When applying for the e-Visa, you’ll need to enter the exact address and select the province, district... from dropdown menus. How to add your partner’s name to the hotel reservation?
Log in to your account (Agoda, Booking, etc.), go to your reservations, and look for the option to modify traveler details. You can often add the second person’s name or, in the main traveler name field, enter both names separated by a slash or comma. If you can’t modify it online, ask the hotel for an official reservation confirmation letter (“Confirmation Letter”) explicitly stating: “Room booked for and ”. Thai hotels are used to this process for visas and will send it to you quickly by email in PDF format.
How to merge PDF files? To combine your multiple bank statements or flight tickets in the correct order into a single PDF, you can use a free and intuitive online tool like iLovePDF or Smallpdf. No software to download—everything is done online.
PS: I’ve shared the steps I followed to get my e-Visa. I put them together by comparing recommendations from several AIs and the official e-Visa website. ID photo: I had 6 ID photos taken in an automatic photo booth (found in shopping malls). I cut one out and scanned it in color with a regular scanner. Bank statements: I downloaded the last 3 official monthly bank statements in PDF format and merged them into one. However, 3 years ago, a friend told me he didn’t submit his statements but instead provided a document from his bank (requested from his banker, with stamps, the bank’s logo, and the banker’s signature) clearly stating he had the required funds. I don’t know if this option is still available, but I’m mentioning it. File names: For all files (PDF, JPEG) attached to my e-Visa application, I used my name followed by a description of the document (e.g., “Name photo”).
DOCUMENTS REQUIRED FOR THE 60-DAY TR SINGLE-ENTRY E-VISA IN THAILAND
A digital copy of your passport: Color copy of the double-page spread with your photo. It must show the entire machine-readable zone (the two lines of characters at the bottom) and all four corners of the page. Your passport must be valid for at least 6 months after your departure date. (Format: JPEG or PDF) A color ID photo: Official ID photo on a plain white background, max 3 MB in size, and taken within the last 6 months. If you use the same photo as the one printed in your passport (if it was issued 2 years ago, for example), the system will detect the inconsistency and reject your application. The background must be strictly white, with no shadows, no glasses, and your face must be fully visible. Proof of financial means: Official bank statements (checking and/or savings) for the last 3 months. They must clearly display your name and show a minimum balance of 700 € for each month (1,000 € is preferable), per person (even for couples). Bank statement format and date: Screenshots from mobile banking apps (without your name or the bank’s logo) are systematically rejected. You must provide the full official statement in PDF format, downloaded from your online banking. Additionally, the most recent statement must be less than 30 days old at the time of submission. Don’t forget to merge the 3 statements into a single PDF, as only one document can be uploaded per category. Entry and exit tickets: A reservation or confirmation of flight tickets showing your entry into and exit from Thailand. The document must include the PNR (Passenger Name Record: a 6-character booking code used as a reference by the airline) and/or the e-ticket number.
90-day rule: Your exit flight date must not exceed 90 days after your arrival in Thailand. If you have separate tickets: If you have two different tickets for entry and exit, merge them into a single document showing only the entry and exit from Thailand within 90 days (exclude other flights). For example, if you have a round-trip Paris-Bangkok ticket spaced 6 months apart but plan to stay in Indonesia after 60 or 90 days, only submit the inbound flight to Thailand from your first ticket (exclude the return flight that’s 6 months later) and the outbound flight from Thailand to Indonesia (without the flight out of Indonesia, which is likely separate). Merge the two PDFs into one.
Proof of residence in France (less than 3 months old): Mobile phone, landline, internet, or electricity bill in your name. This document must prove that you currently reside in the country from which you’re applying. (Format: PDF or JPEG)
Hotel reservation in your name: Covering the first few nights with your name on it, or an official invitation letter signed by your host along with a copy of their ID. (Format: PDF or JPEG)
⚠️ FOR COUPLES: The official confirmation of your first accommodation in Thailand (hotel, Airbnb) must clearly display the names of BOTH members of the couple, as it will need to be attached to each individual e-Visa application. The second name is essential because each visa applicant must provide proof of accommodation in their name. If your partner’s name doesn’t appear anywhere on the hotel document, their visa application may be blocked or rejected, even if you include a marriage certificate. Prepare the addresses of the first two hotels for the online form; Write down (on paper) the exact address of the first hotel and the next one, as the form also asks for the address of the second hotel (without requiring proof of reservation). Look up the name of the sub-district, district, and province of these establishments online. When applying for the e-Visa, you’ll need to enter the exact address and select the province, district... from dropdown menus. How to add your partner’s name to the hotel reservation?
Log in to your account (Agoda, Booking, etc.), go to your reservations, and look for the option to modify traveler details. You can often add the second person’s name or, in the main traveler name field, enter both names separated by a slash or comma. If you can’t modify it online, ask the hotel for an official reservation confirmation letter (“Confirmation Letter”) explicitly stating: “Room booked for and ”. Thai hotels are used to this process for visas and will send it to you quickly by email in PDF format.
How to merge PDF files? To combine your multiple bank statements or flight tickets in the correct order into a single PDF, you can use a free and intuitive online tool like iLovePDF or Smallpdf. No software to download—everything is done online.
PS: I’ve shared the steps I followed to get my e-Visa. I put them together by comparing recommendations from several AIs and the official e-Visa website. ID photo: I had 6 ID photos taken in an automatic photo booth (found in shopping malls). I cut one out and scanned it in color with a regular scanner. Bank statements: I downloaded the last 3 official monthly bank statements in PDF format and merged them into one. However, 3 years ago, a friend told me he didn’t submit his statements but instead provided a document from his bank (requested from his banker, with stamps, the bank’s logo, and the banker’s signature) clearly stating he had the required funds. I don’t know if this option is still available, but I’m mentioning it. File names: For all files (PDF, JPEG) attached to my e-Visa application, I used my name followed by a description of the document (e.g., “Name photo”).
Hi, does anyone know the current condition of the track/road P1800 that goes from R111 just past Allougoum to Akka Ighane on P1743?
Google Maps says it's doable, but all the info I’ve gotten advises against it.
From Akka Ighane, at the junction with the road to Auguinane, it was even paved for the 10 km I covered two years ago.
But in Morocco, paved roads can suddenly end without warning 😏.
Some people have questions about choosing a touring bike, so those who are equipped can post a photo here and describe their ride—its strengths and, of course, its flaws.
I’ll go first!
Here’s the beast: a Ridgeback Panorama model, around 10 years old, bought second-hand from a cyclist who’d picked the wrong size. Steel frame in Reynolds 725 (it’s written on it, but I doubt the whole set is that series). Gear ranges from XT for the rear derailleur to some cheaper parts. Three chainrings and sturdy but heavy wheels. Here with 35mm tires—plenty for gravel paths and the occasional rougher trail (as long as you don’t ride like a sausage!).
What I’ve modified: - Upgraded from 9 to 10 speeds when I changed the cassette - Installed two Tubus racks—the rear replaced the original aluminum one (which got bent) - Moved the shifters to the frame instead of the brake/shift combos, which were getting in the way of my handlebar bag - Swapped the saddle for a Brooks B17 (the original one didn’t suit me at all) Over time, some wear-and-tear parts have been replaced.
It’s comfy and sturdy but heavy (almost 14kg). Downsides? It’s a bit sluggish when you stand up to pedal—the chainring rubs against the front derailleur cage (the bottom bracket lacks rigidity). Definitely not a climber’s bike! The cantilever brakes are a tad weak—you get used to them, but you’ve gotta anticipate.
We’ve had some great rides together, but it’ll soon be on the market since I’m replacing it with a custom Cattin. I won’t sell it for much—it’ll make someone happy...
I’ll go first!
Here’s the beast: a Ridgeback Panorama model, around 10 years old, bought second-hand from a cyclist who’d picked the wrong size. Steel frame in Reynolds 725 (it’s written on it, but I doubt the whole set is that series). Gear ranges from XT for the rear derailleur to some cheaper parts. Three chainrings and sturdy but heavy wheels. Here with 35mm tires—plenty for gravel paths and the occasional rougher trail (as long as you don’t ride like a sausage!).
What I’ve modified: - Upgraded from 9 to 10 speeds when I changed the cassette - Installed two Tubus racks—the rear replaced the original aluminum one (which got bent) - Moved the shifters to the frame instead of the brake/shift combos, which were getting in the way of my handlebar bag - Swapped the saddle for a Brooks B17 (the original one didn’t suit me at all) Over time, some wear-and-tear parts have been replaced.
It’s comfy and sturdy but heavy (almost 14kg). Downsides? It’s a bit sluggish when you stand up to pedal—the chainring rubs against the front derailleur cage (the bottom bracket lacks rigidity). Definitely not a climber’s bike! The cantilever brakes are a tad weak—you get used to them, but you’ve gotta anticipate.
We’ve had some great rides together, but it’ll soon be on the market since I’m replacing it with a custom Cattin. I won’t sell it for much—it’ll make someone happy...
