For a few years now, it’s become obvious that the typical tourist in Thailand is increasingly "mimile"—I see it every day. The issue is that Thais know how to adapt and are offering more and more things that appeal to this kind of crowd. That’s why we’re seeing more and more pizzerias and burger joints... Even hotels are proudly displaying up to 5 stars for places that barely deserve 3 by European standards, and this "working-class" crowd is over the moon, totally buying into it! In short, travelers looking to discover other civilizations and cultures might end up pretty disappointed.

We’re excited to share our sixth travel journal with photos from Southeast Asia, this one entirely dedicated to Thailand. As a reminder, our previous travel journals can be accessed directly by clicking on the username "jojoone1" to the left of each post.

For a change, let’s start with the conclusion: our trip left us with an excellent memory. Very often, everything went like clockwork—short wait times, quick problem-solving, and the curious feeling of being pampered. Sometimes, life isn’t so cruel after all.

It’s only fair to admit that day after day, we encountered Thais who were smiling, helpful, kind, funny, and sometimes even touching. There were a few exceptions, but they were just the trees hiding the (tropical) forest. After this year’s experience, we won’t be the ones to tell you that Thailand isn’t the Land of Smiles or that laughter is just for business. We’ve witnessed so many kind behaviors and gestures that we no longer understand how anyone could complain about the people here—except for bad experiences in ultra-touristy spots packed with travelers lacking any finesse. It got to the point where it made us reflect. And we concluded that we probably have funny, friendly faces (?). We also know we’re the first to smile at them, and every day there, we show respect to everyone we meet. In any case, we have fond thoughts for many of the people we crossed paths with. Thanks to them, our trip took on a whole new human dimension.

A quick note about the photos: last year, the VoyageForum team made a change to how photos are uploaded. This gives us the choice between displaying high-definition photos (but losing ownership rights) or non-HD photos (less sharp, but the originals won’t be spread online without compensation or credit). We opted for the second solution, if only as a matter of principle. It does leave us with some regrets, especially since Françoise switched to the Canon EOS 7D Mark II, whose performance is notably better than the 7D.

Our first trip with Emirates was satisfying but left a mixed impression. Sure, it was the first time all four of our flights were on an Airbus A380. The crews were super friendly, and the meal trays were the best on the first two flights. On the return flights, the meals weren’t great and weren’t filling enough. Overall, the crews seemed disorganized and rushed—clearly some new recruits. The Doha-Paris flight, if memory serves, was on an A380-600, and in that configuration, we were packed in like it hadn’t been in years. In conclusion, it’s hard to say at this stage whether Qatar or Emirates comes out on top.

From our perspective, the journey from northern Thailand to Bangkok can be done via two different routes. This year, we took one of them, which allowed us to alternate between well-known destinations and original visits. Note that some of this year’s visits include cities we’ve already been to. So for a more complete view (Bangkok and Chiang Mai, for example), you’ll need to check out our previous travel journals.

We’ve improved our Thai vocabulary with a few more words and hope next year to move from kindergarten to first grade... For those reading us for the first time, we can only advise against visiting this country on an organized tour or looking for a French-speaking guide. The Thais have organized themselves well—they now have proven tourism practices. Maybe a guidebook for culture, a few basic English words, and a little organization are all you need for a great trip.

CHIANG MAI

Chiang Mai and its region are packed with treasures—so much so that one or two visits might not be enough.

At the airport, you go to a counter that provides a taxi ticket. The fare is 150 baht for a regular car and 200 baht for a larger vehicle. When our turn came, a large vehicle showed up, but we were only charged 150 baht. Okay, fine.

The hotels we’d selected three years ago had significantly increased their rates, so we had to find a new base. In the city center, hotels with large pools are overpriced, and despite the wide selection, it was hard to decide. We ended up at a hotel near the airport, the Baan U Sabai Boutique House. The superior room with a balcony can be negotiated for just under 40 €. It’s a beautiful, fairly new complex in traditional teak style, with very well-kept rooms and a long pool. Given the rather stormy weather in early July, it was the first time in Thailand we swam in cool water. It encouraged us to swim rather than just lounge...



At the end of the hotel street, you come out onto a busy main road where you can hail a songthaew (a kind of shared taxi). It’s easy to be offered a ride to the city center for 2 x 20 baht, but getting a return trip for less than 2 x 40 baht is tough, especially in the evening. Our red songthaew took us straight to Chiang Mai Gate, one of the city’s gates, located southeast of the historic square. We then took Phra Pok Khlao Road for a few dozen meters and chose the first little restaurant that looked nice. Within minutes, we had our dishes and smoothies for a total of 235 baht. Great quality, despite the place looking very touristy. The owner set the tone by handing out smiles left and right.

There’s an amazing spot in Chiang Mai to grab a coffee: Baan Phor Liang Meun. Once you reach Chiang Mai Gate, take Phra Pok Khlao Road for a few meters, then turn onto soi 2 (alley 2). It’s actually the first on the left. After a few dozen meters, you’ll find yourself walking alongside what looks like a Khmer temple.



When you enter, you’re in a vast space—like a temple-garden—where you can eat a small dish or sip a good café crème as if you were in Angkor. The tables are far apart, so you’re as close to birds and squirrels as you are to other customers.



In the small building where the staff works, they provide high-quality mosquito repellent for free—something we’ll now buy regularly at 7/11. They’re small plastic bottles, mostly pink or orange, with Thai writing and "floral fragrance" in English. The scent is actually pleasant. Remember to shake the bottle before opening and pressing, or you’ll end up with cream all over your shorts...

The creator of this space has been sculpting terracotta works since the early 1980s using clay from the Lamphun region—the most consistent clay found in all of Thailand. This café is like visiting an ancient temple, with its abundance of statues, high-reliefs, and bas-reliefs. It’s undeniably a romantic spot for couples—a haven of calm in a very lively city.

Hello,

We’re planning our trip for October 2017!! (Yes, it’s still far off—but planning it is already like a vacation.) We’re interested in the Ban Gioc Waterfalls, but I can’t quite make up my mind about them. Will there still be water in October? Is this stop worth it? (Even if there’s no water?) Thanks for your replies! Happy travels to everyone, Eric

An 80-Day Tour of Southern Africa

Back in South Africa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Water and shade that make life possible.

We’ll return here by the backroads.

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

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

The Colors of Cape Town

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Columbine of Brittany

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Kalahari Trails

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

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

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

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

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

Orange, Right Bank

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

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

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

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

I Love You, I Eat You

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

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

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

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

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

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

In and Out

Kgalagadi, Nossob Camp.

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

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

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

Another Morning

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

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

Reading an excerpt from "The Art of Boring People by Telling Your Travel Stories" by Matthias Debureaux first made me smile, then got me thinking… Are we "travel-bores" with our travel stories?

"Annoying is the one who, like Ulysses, had a wonderful trip. Because for every silver-tongued storyteller with marvelous tales, how many bores and nuisances… The traveler, drunk on grand images and magical encounters, has only one thing on their mind: pelting us with anecdotes, life lessons, and ideals. They’ll paint the most beautiful and distant Edens… the traveler has an endless pharmacy of stories. But nothing is designed to immunize us against travel tales. We should impose a quarantine on returning travelers. At least a dozen hours in a sobering cell. What’s the point? Months, years later, they’ll never miss an opportunity to reminisce. The evocation of their odyssey is a perpetual fireplace fire."

A provocative text, sure, but isn’t the person telling their travel story doing it mostly for themselves? Just to relive the joy of their trip? At friendly gatherings or with family, we sometimes have to endure the enthusiast… without necessarily sharing their passion for the destination!

The advantage of writing—and also of exchanges on sites like VF—is that only those who want to read a story do so… with the option to skip it anytime!

So, what do you think, authors and fans of travel stories published online?

Jean

P.S.: "The Art of Boring People by Telling Your Travel Stories" by Matthias Debureaux, Éditions Cavatines, 2005 Excerpts read in "The Taste of Travel" Éditions Mercure de France, 2008

P.S.: As a little wink… I still invite you to check out my latest travel story about a trip to the Aeolian Islands… see the story and photos by following this link: http://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=4409520;page=unread#unread

I hope I didn’t "bore" you too much with this story 😉

Visiting the islands of the South Pacific is a dream we’re trying to make come true, so we’re doing our research to make sure we don’t miss out.

We’ve been dreaming of visiting French Polynesia for a long time, but now that we might finally be able to go, we’re torn between a cruise or a traditional stay.

Our plan is to visit Tahiti, Moorea, Bora Bora, Huahine... and we’re also considering the Tuamotu Islands.

For us, the priority is to explore the islands properly, not so much to enjoy life on a boat—we do cruises closer to home for that. But sailing through those lagoons must be an extraordinary experience too.

I’m reaching out to get your help in weighing the pros and cons of each option.

I’d love to hear from travelers who’ve done this trip.

How many nights would you recommend staying on each island?

And so on...

Thanks in advance for your input!

Hi everyone,

I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences about marrying a Cuban and moving to Cuba (not the other way around!). Yes, some of us actually *want* to stay on the island! Is it possible to work there without too much hassle, or is it really complicated?

Thanks in advance!

Why bike (MTB) along the canal between the Two Seas: the lateral canal of the Garonne from Bordeaux to Toulouse, and the Midi Canal from Toulouse to the Mediterranean?

This canal was created to connect the Mediterranean to the Atlantic without going around Spain, and along its entire length, there’s an old towpath (used to pull barges). Since this path is closed to traffic (except for service vehicles from Voies Navigables de France), no cars drive on it—it’s dangerous, noisy, and polluting. The Canal between the Two Seas was built for transporting goods, so it passes through many towns you can explore without dealing with traffic. You can stock up on supplies or spend the night. You’ll discover the varied landscapes of the countryside, always in the serenity brought by the calm and slow flow of the canal’s water. Most of the time, you’ll be in the shade of trees planted to stabilize the banks with their roots. All you have to do is follow this blue—or rather green—ribbon without needing to consult a map. But the biggest advantage is that it’s flat! Of course, on the Canal du Midi, water flows from the watershed divide at Naurouze eastward to the Mediterranean and westward to Toulouse. On the lateral canal of the Garonne, water flows toward Bordeaux. But this slope is almost imperceptible, which is a huge plus when you want to travel by bike for several days with luggage.

When I say "bike," I really mean MTB because, while the towpath has been replaced in some places by a paved bike path, it mostly resembles a dirt trail—sometimes smooth, sometimes rocky, and often cluttered with roots from the magnificent trees lining it. Since the canal was classified as a UNESCO World Heritage site, improvements have been underway, but it won’t be tomorrow that you’ll be able to ride from Bordeaux to Sète on a road bike. And I’m afraid the first sections of the path will be worn out before the rest is finished. You might even run into construction work for this bike path. That’s what happened to me during the spring of 2007.

Sunday, 03/11 – Valence d'Agen 08:15 to Toulouse (Rangueil) 16:30 97 km in 8h15 (6h on the bike) I started on the recently paved path along the lateral canal of the Garonne. The first locks appeared, and as I approached Moissac, the path turned into a billiard table until Castelsarrasin. After the Cousteau port, I was back on the classic dirt towpath with its rocks, roots, and nutria holes. But not for long—soon, I hit ruts left by backhoes and bulldozers, which, fortunately, were resting for the Sunday. A pile of rubble taller than me blocked the entire width of the path. I didn’t want to turn back to find the previous bridge and ride on the other bank, which was just as impassable (dense grass). It wasn’t easy to carry a bike with full panniers, so I lifted it over several mounds. I kept going, sometimes on foot, unsure how far the construction extended. Another bulldozer—luckily, the ground was dry. The work went all the way to Montech, making the path impassable. I recommend taking the N113, which runs parallel (that’s what I did on the way back). In Montech, the famous water slope was at rest, waiting for tourists. For many kilometers, I was back on the traditional towpath. The closer I got to Toulouse, the better the surface became, and the more cyclists and pedestrians I saw—until the city center, where there was nonstop bike traffic, especially students heading to Rangueil.

Monday, 03/12 – Rangueil 09:10 to Revel 16:30 86 km in 7h20 (5h30 on the bike) As soon as you reach Toulouse, you make a 90° turn to follow the connection between the lateral canal and the Canal du Midi. Heading east, you pass the barge selling the famous Toulouse violet souvenirs. A real bike path has been built for 50 km to Port Lauragais. It’s a true joy for Toulousains and travelers. Restrooms have been installed or shared with highway rest areas, allowing you to refill water (of course, bikes are banned from ASF rest areas, but cleverly placed racks let you secure your bike and walk in). At Port Lauragais, it’s another rest area shared by highway users, cyclists, and boaters. You’ll find a cafeteria, restaurant, hotel, and a shop selling regional souvenirs. But the real pleasure is reaching the watershed divide at Naurouze, where water flows toward the Mediterranean on one side and the Atlantic on the other. There, I decided to leave the Canal du Midi, which continues toward Castelnaudary with a much rougher towpath, to follow the *Rigole* that feeds the canal with water from the Saint-Ferréol basin. For me, it was like returning to the source—a bit like a pilgrimage in honor of the brilliant Pierre-Paul Riquet, the designer of this magnificent work. I followed the service trail along the *Rigole*. It’s actually a variant of the GR 653, leading to Revel alongside this artificial waterway. It’s fed by water from the Montagne Noire, and I was worried about a steep climb. But that wasn’t the case—the *Rigole* winds for 40 km, flowing gently under the trees. It was better than a dream: a smooth dirt path with the crunch of pine needles under the wheels, where I only crossed paths with a few fishermen... And to soothe sore buns, the last kilometers were on packed earth—a paradise (ATVs, stay away!). More walkers and cyclists appeared there.

Tuesday, 03/13 After a restful night in Revel, I started the morning with a walk around Lake Saint-Ferréol. A very pleasant 10 km hike, but I don’t recommend it for mountain bikers unless you’re used to mountain terrain and have strong calves. Otherwise, you can take the road—there are at least two hotels near the lake. In the afternoon, I began the return trip to Tarn-et-Garonne via the same path, with the same pleasure.

Total: 378 km of suffering and bliss, for which I must thank the departmental and regional councils for their funding, Voies Navigables de France for maintenance, and the volunteers who mark the hiking trails. And don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit with your 378 km of bliss and the paradise of the *Rigole*?

Okay, fine—it wasn’t always idyllic. Sometimes the path was downright *pierrique*... but I had great weather, and the landscapes were so beautiful (water, sun, vegetation). In the rain or mud, it would’ve been less fun. What does *pierrique* even mean?

*Pierrique* is worse than rocky. I know a Pierrick, and he’s tough. And why *Facteur4*?

It’s France’s goal to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by a factor of 4 by 2050. I’m doing my part by biking to work 3 out of 4 times. And your cassoulet?

Guilty as charged. I ate the best cassoulet of my life at the Hôtel du Midi in Revel. But it was very productive in methane. My stomach hurt so much I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing my postcards between 3 and 4 AM. So many great memories!

It's all in the title: I want to convert a van for traveling far, to places like Morocco, Tunisia, and Libya (among others!)

Indeed, 4x4 vehicles are too small and too conspicuous (and too expensive)

So I need a van with a 4x4 platform; but there are very few of them: a few Mercedes, the Citroën Jumper I think, and that's about it!

What can you recommend to me, knowing I can't spend too many dollars?

Thanks for your advice

See you soon

I'm currently converting a DAF/HEULIEZ MB205 bus.

Cheaper and more spacious than a regular vehicle, the paperwork (in France) isn't too difficult for approval.

I'm ready to help anyone who wants to tackle this kind of project. Those who know, help those who want to....

March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.

I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.

At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.

At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.

March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.

When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.



Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.



Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church



, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes



—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit. I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.







Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.

Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.

I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.

Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.





We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.

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”).

Hi there, I use video and photo editing software for my "work".

A conflict has been showing up lately when I open the software. Photo attached.

Is there a specialist around who could help me out?

Thanks in advance.

Hi, I’m Franck and I’m planning to head to Asia this summer on my 410 Himalayan. No set destination—just a hankering for China, Mongolia, Laos… Now that I’m retired, I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not planning to tackle hardcore off-roading, but I’ll probably leave the tarmac every now and then. If anyone has any tips on potential administrative hassles, essential tools and spare parts, or anything else, I’d love to hear them. Thanks for sharing! Best, Franck

Calm, composed, reflective, dreamy, intuitive, joyful—I feel like (especially in winter) colors and warm seas, shared moments to savor the soul of the world. Why not also the rest of the time in Europe, France, Italy, and other regions of the world? For example, to bathe in gorges with clear waters, marvel at landscapes, taste the harmony of a village, a city (Florence…), a culture…

Currently, I’m finishing writing a novel. I’m also looking for partners for the "Human Source" project I’m developing. It’s about collecting and sharing stories of human transformations, moments of awareness, and offering tools to feel guided through these changes. I also love speaking English.

Let’s chat a bit here, then on WhatsApp or by phone, and then meet somewhere in France for 1 or 2 days. If we click, we can organize a short 4- to 5-day trip somewhere not too far, and maybe then continue on to bigger travels. Interests: - Writing, Reading, Songwriting, Awareness, Dream Symbolism, Wonder, Gentle Joy, Sense of Beauty, English, Various topics on human knowledge, Taking the time to live things fully, Sea, Sun

** I’m not into trekking or sports, but more into leisurely walks, taking my time, and peaceful discovery**

Hi there,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damaraland: https://youtu.be/DITQj8NvLZ4

Botswana: https://youtu.be/TEvDG0S62hg

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

Hi, so I’m heading off solo through China and I’d like to stay for a good while (about a year—do you think that’d be enough to pick up a bit of the language???). I’d love to know if there’s a website, or if someone can help me live, that teaches the basics: to understand the alphabet and characters. to understand how a sentence is formed. just the super simple basics, really. Thanks for your help! ^o^

PS: My goal is to speak a tiny bit—not to write or anything—but still be able to read a little too...

If you’ve already posted your three photos in the contest thread Staircases: May 2026 Photo Contest Theme and a fourth one comes to mind, you can ease your staircase obsession here.

A few examples of staircases:



Some of the 6,600 steps on the staircase leading to the summit of Jade Emperor Peak at 1,545 meters.



Emergency staircase at the Orléans library (France).



Brussels street artist Créons incorporates the staircase into the dress design of his character.



The staircase is part of the roof of Villa Malaparte (Adalberto Libera) on the island of Capri (Italy).

"I created the African Languages Universe for a proud, playful, and accessible reclaiming of our languages in homes and imaginations, from ages 7 to 77" (Diaddou Cissé, founder of Univers des Langues Africaines)

A bridge between generations, continents, and languages

Since its beginnings, Univers des Langues Africaines, an independent publishing house, has had a simple yet powerful dream: to bring African languages to life in homes, schools, games, and everyday conversations. This dream grows with every word passed on, every language rediscovered, every child who speaks their first words in Soninke, Lingala, Bambara, Wolof, Pulaar...

Today, Univers des Langues Africaines has become:

an educational, accessible, and multilingual publishing house,

a brand committed to intergenerational transmission,

a lively, playful, and reality-connected learning space.

Children of the African diaspora, regardless of their level in Soninke, Wolof, Bambara, Lingala..., all face the same issue: the lack of books in their heritage languages tailored to them. Univers des Langues Africaines was born to fill this gap by offering simple and fun books and supporting them in learning African languages. Whether you're a minor, an adult beginner, a parent wanting to pass on their language to their child, or an African language enthusiast, Univers des Langues Africaines has a program suited to your needs!

At Univers des Langues Africaines, we offer:

conversation manuals or guides (Bambara, Lingala, Soninke, Wolof, Pulaar...); the books consist of lessons accessible to everyone, with exercises, reviews, and audio to easily speak the language.

games for children; tools adapted for kids to gently discover African languages.

online language courses, tailored for adults and children, interactive and immersive; they allow you to master an African language while discovering its cultural richness.

In short: manuals, games, and online courses—everything you need to learn (or relearn) an African language, at any age and at your own pace.

LAfrican languages deserve more than just a memory: they deserve to be lived, spoken, and loved.

Hi everyone,

I couldn’t find any recent posts on this topic, so I thought I’d create a new one. We’ve just started planning our family trip to Vietnam this coming August. We’d like to travel from North to South, starting in Hanoi and ending in Ho Chi Minh.

Usually, we rent a car when we arrive and manage on our own. But I get the feeling that in Vietnam, it’s more complicated... It seems like the only option we have is to rent a car with a driver? Is that really the case?

I’m thinking of starting with a cruise in Halong Bay since we arrive on my partner’s birthday, and I wanted a beautiful setting to celebrate it. So, is the option of having a driver wait for 2 days while we’re on the cruise really feasible?

The rest of the itinerary isn’t planned at all yet. I’d love to hear your tips. We’re traveling from August 8th (morning) to the 26th (afternoon).

Thanks for your advice.

I would wish never to go to bed where I had woken up, to wander my tent from the shores of Egypt to those of the Persian Gulf; to have no goal for the evening other than the evening itself; to traverse on foot, with my eyes and my heart, all these unknown lands, all these races of people so different from my own; to contemplate humanity, God’s finest creation, in all its forms. Lamartine in Fatalla Sayeghir’s Account (1861)

As soon as it’s about flying, I lose all willpower. Being reasonable and thoughtful, I still lose all my composure at the mere possibility of a flight—especially if it’s piloted by F.—and even more so if that flight can take me to unexplored lands. I’ve long wanted to unravel the mystery of animal tourism, and why not in Tanzania, following up on my trip from four years ago, when I was already questioning the glaring inequalities in Zanzibar: the coastal strip sacrificed to capitalism, and the inland areas, just a hundred meters from the waves, where you find—though a bit more peaceful than elsewhere on the continent—the chaos of Africa.

I’m an adventurer at heart. When it comes to the terrain, though, it’s a whole different story. I see people setting off for months at a time; I know my endurance doesn’t last beyond three days. It’s not that I’m afraid of this unfamiliar environment when it comes to embracing different realities. I’m mostly afraid of myself—of this heightened sensitivity that makes me see things I’d rather not see and understand others that sometimes overwhelm me.

After an absolutely fantastic daytime flight, I land in Zanzibar and have to resign myself—this is the whole point of the trip—to what feels like a real spacewalk. I’m alone. My lucky star, backed up by my phone, will serve as my lifeline. I step out of the airport and breathe in the scent of Africa full-on: a mix of exotic perfumes, baked earth, and poorly refined fuel, inevitably mingled with the smell of wood smoke. So many images come flooding back. So many stories. Another world.

I head to Arusha the very next day. The gateway to the country’s northern national parks, this city of half a million offers one of those rare breath-holding dives that Africa keeps secret. As the only white person walking the streets, I know I’m visible and vulnerable, yet I move forward confidently, barely bothered. But where are all my fellow Westerners? While this city draws countless tourists, I only cross paths with one white couple in nearly three hours of walking. Because you have to hold on tight to wander here. You have to stay alert. The traffic is dense and erratic—don’t even trust the fact that in Tanzania, people drive on the left. That can change from one minute to the next, especially with motorbikes. With barely centimeters between vehicles, I weave my way through the urban jungle, trying not to stumble into the huge ditch on my left or get sideswiped by cars brushing past me on the right. Speakers blare music, ads, or political speeches at will—the explosion of yellow and green tells us we’re on the eve of the presidential election—but they barely compete with the calls to prayer, nearly nonstop on this holy Friday. The vital space is as saturated as the sound. Imagine an unbroken line of shops and stalls of every kind—supermarkets haven’t made it here yet—where you can find just about anything: phones, copper pipes, Chinese-made hardware, shoes, clothes, basins, and professional tools… The luckiest own a big store; others spend their lives trying to survive on the profits from selling toothbrushes one at a time on the streets. But maybe it’s more lucrative than spending the day slumped on the sidewalk, preferably missing a limb, trusting your survival to the mercy of passersby.

I think I’ll escape the street by slipping into the narrow alleys of the central market. Here, I know I won’t run into anyone like me! The vendors’ stalls start at waist height; the sellers, perched higher up, haggle or not while discussing prices. Here, colorful fruits and vegetables; there, huge piles of dried fish. Spices, seeds, roots. Smells. Noises. Africa. Life. Further on, the fresh fish aisle makes a right angle with the butchers’. Everywhere, flies—everywhere, the same gesture from vendors swatting blindly at these relentless pests. Aware that I’ll be eating this same meat within the hour, displayed with total disregard for basic hygiene, I reassure myself that Arusha sits at 1400m altitude. Yes, we can probably do without a fridge.

*

It’s time to leave the city and go wildlife spotting in the surrounding parks. To that end, I’ve negotiated a package deal with a local agency that prides itself on grouping solo travelers into a vehicle meant for seven. We leave behind the imposing masses of Mount Meru and Kilimanjaro, peaking at 4565m and 5895m respectively, and head west to conquer Tarangire and Ngorongoro parks. I’ve been promised a spectacle; I remain cautious. I’ve read rave reviews; I know how to temper my expectations. Above all, I know what I came for—and paradoxically, my hopes are less about animals than strictly anthropological. So I’m sure I won’t go home disappointed.

I’m in the thick of it. Since 2021, tourism has been booming: I’m one of the two million tourists who come here every year seeking thrills. I also contribute, in a small way, to the 20% of the country’s GDP generated by tourism revenue. Around 3 billion € annually… Tanzania has 16 national parks, twice as many reserves; it charges meticulously for every entry, every night, every activity, to the tune of several dozen euros. I calculated that Tarangire Park alone rakes in around 15 million € a year. Mind-boggling. Yet to get there, a dusty, rickety old track is used daily by hundreds of vehicles that literally saturate the surrounding area with white dust and exhaust fumes. At the park entrance, we wait a good hour while the driver pays the entry fees. Then it’s a free-for-all: dozens of 4x4s try to enter at the same time through the single access point, to the left of the building, while the three barriers are stuck due to a computer glitch. It’s pure chaos: no way to buy your ticket in advance—the QR code revolution hasn’t arrived; no smart layout before the barriers; nothing smooth, nothing practical, everything improvised.

So, the animals? Given the time and money involved, I’d be tempted to say it’s not worth the hassle and there’s really no need to break five legs off one of the too-many zebras we pass. Hours and hours of travel to get to Tanzania, specifically Arusha; hours and hours on the road—up to 12 hours a day—to spend barely three in the parks; at least 200 € per day for the most basic option, so 400 € in my case, and up to several thousand for those wealthy couples opting for the luxury package with a private vehicle. Sure, I saw zebras and elephants in their natural habitat, wildebeest, buffalo, and a few hippos, but I didn’t feel the thrill touted in the articles or even by my two-day trip organizer. Would I have been more satisfied if I’d seen the lion, the leopard, and the rhino? Maybe. But the story won’t be rewritten in light of those assumptions.

Yet I’m not disappointed. As I said earlier: I know what I came for. I wanted to see the world as it is with my own eyes. And the safari world fascinates me more for its anthropological aspect than for what it offers. Yes, the fact that people from all over the world come here, juggling hotels and big 4x4s—while notably avoiding the streets of cities and villages—truly fascinates me. Two worlds coexist on either side of a barely porous border. As soon as the tourist sets foot in the airport, they’re whisked away, sight unseen, into a tourist vehicle. Dropped off at the hotel, they rest there, shielded from view, until the 4x4 departs. Then they speed through those same cities and villages they scorn out of fear or disdain, leaving on the roadside the Maasai herding their flocks and all those poignant or mundane scenes that make up daily African life. In the evening, in their lodge, far from the city’s pulse, they fall asleep thinking about the images they’ve collected, those long hours on the road, the wait for the animals. And the days go by… Maybe the term *luxury*, whether for food or accommodation, refers to what we experience as utterly ordinary in the West? Forgetting that you’re there, in Africa, just steps away from poverty and a certain arbitrariness. And at the end of the journey: back to the airport, back to normal life.

Maybe we need to take a broader view. All that money seems invisible, yet it must serve the population at some point, right? The main roads are passable, the power grid seems well-maintained—I can tell by the excellent condition of the high-voltage transmission towers. Is it really too expensive to significantly improve all the infrastructure? I hoped this windfall would truly serve the people’s interests. The driver taking me back to the airport on the last evening dashes my sweet illusions: « All this is bad. Africa is bad. But you have no choice. The hospitals don’t work, the schools don’t work, the roads don’t work (just as he says this, roadworks force us onto a terrible detour for several kilometers—a rutted track, in fact), and if you say anything, if you speak up too much, they come for you and then you disappear. » That’s just one opinion. Nothing empirical. But I don’t need to be a West Point graduate to realize how rampant corruption is in these regions: while the muezzin bellows the greatness of Allah, I consider the dilapidated equipment and the energy expended by the masses just to survive here. But maybe all that money keeps the country afloat by paying civil servants’ salaries? Meanwhile, one thing is certain: regardless of where the profits go, tourism supports millions of people, and I’m in no position to judge this system too harshly. Maybe I’m too much of an aesthete to appreciate the almost exclusive use of corrugated iron at its true value…

*

I’ll give this system credit for one thing: the chance to set foot in spaces impossible to visit otherwise. At one point, in the heart of the Ngorongoro Crater—a vast 20km-wide plain topped by a 600m-high caldera—I was simply happy to be there. Barely bothered by the constant ballet of 4x4s—the space is vast—I contemplate the simple life of the local animals. Buffalo, wildebeest, zebras as numerous as the flamingos patiently standing on one leg, waiting for the day to pass. Over there, you can make out a few hyenas with vultures circling above. Finally, in a large body of water, hippos surface at regular intervals. I’m aware of my luck. I’m especially aware that, unlike all the people I’ve met there, a lot of money and a little resourcefulness greatly favor the luck factor.

I’m heading home. I soak up the last images of this improbable Africa as night falls quickly over the countryside. I’m fascinated by the number of Maasai herding their livestock along the main road. Some pass the time, globalization obliges, on an old phone; others, sometimes as young as my eldest—barely 10 years old—watch us pass, indifferent. We overtake or are overtaken; the two-lane road is the stage for a majestic ballet of semi-trailers, *dalas-dalas*, and other 4x4s, as numerous as the names of their companies: Leopard Tours, Climbing Kilimanjaro, Smiling Zebra, Nomad Life Enhanced, Elephant Roaming, Mountain Warrior, Master of the Ambush… They drop me off at the hotel, where I have an hour to shower and change into clean clothes before my return flight. Already, I’m slipping back into my own world without really seeing it, leaving behind the hotel’s glass window that African life to which nothing truly binds me. Then that chaotic, suffocating nighttime drive to the airport. Check-in; the stupid questions (« Where are you going? »); the slow police officer who, in the end, stamps my passport anywhere; the idiocy of the security agent (my empty 33cl bottle is forbidden); the rather shabby lounge at Kilimanjaro Airport. Then the return to the vessel—to the Air France plane that left Zanzibar an hour earlier—after this 72-hour spacewalk without a real lifeline. I’ve never been so happy to see F. again.

Hi everyone,

My wife and I are planning our very first 4x4 trip. We recently bought a used Toyota Land Cruiser 150, still completely stock but in great condition. This is a big first for us—until now, our travels have been more hiking-focused, but the idea of trying out a 4x4 has been itching at me for a few years.

We’re thinking of heading to Morocco for a few weeks, probably in the spring. The plan is to mix the Atlas Mountains, southern valleys, and some easy trails between Merzouga, Tata, Foum Zguid, or the Draa Valley. Nothing extreme—we’re total beginners.

I’m in the middle of outfitting the vehicle and could really use your input, especially from those who know the country or have prepped a 4x4 for this kind of itinerary.

For a trip like this, is a stock Land Cruiser 150 enough, or should we consider a few upgrades (AT tires, sand ladders, compressor) to feel more confident on the southern trails?

For a first off-road adventure: would you recommend bringing a kit of wear-and-tear parts (filters, belts, hoses), or is a good pre-trip inspection with just the bare essentials enough in Morocco?

Finally, I’m torn between three roof tent brands: James Baroud, Autohome, and Roof Space. For heavy use in Morocco (heat, wind, daily setup), which brand do you think is best in terms of ventilation and mechanism durability? Are there any key criteria to consider when choosing?

Thanks in advance for your advice! We’re finalizing the budget and gearing up the vehicle, so all real-world feedback is welcome.

Julien

We’ve just returned from a 30-day trip to China, 20 years after our last visit to this vast country. What a transformation! So many new highways, high-speed trains, clean public restrooms, very comfortable and affordable hotels, and queues before boarding public transport… Has China really changed this much?

Language Technology has helped overcome—on a very small scale, of course—the language barrier thanks to translation apps on our phones. Unfortunately, very few Chinese people speak English, even in international hotels, which we find baffling, even frustrating, but that’s just how it is, and it’s up to us to adapt. It’s a shame, too, because no one makes an effort to communicate any other way than through their phone, which wasn’t the case when we were there 20 years ago. In restaurants, hotels, and some shops, they’ll show you a voice translation—usually in English—on a phone, and all you have to do is respond.

Payments We never withdrew cash in China. It’s possible to do so, but we never looked for an ATM. On the other hand, we tried to exchange 100 € as soon as we arrived in Xi’an, and it was a real ordeal. We had to do it at a specific bank, The Bank of China, and the administrative process took… an hour! So, no cash. Like everyone else, we used Alipay, one of the most popular online payment systems, and it’s super easy to use. WeChat also works well but is a bit more complicated to set up. It’s so convenient and used absolutely everywhere, even for purchases of 5 yuan, which is roughly the equivalent of about 55 euro cents. 10 yuan equals 1.22 €.

Phone As for the internet, I had installed a VPN before leaving—Let’s VPN—but it was completely useless since we had subscribed to an international plan with our carrier before the trip, which gave us 35 GB of data. No need to ask hotels for Wi-Fi; we only used roaming. It worked perfectly, no matter where we were. So, no VPN or SIM card for us.

TWO ESSENTIAL TOOLS FOR TRAVELING: your passport and your phone Traveling to China is much simpler than you might think. And let’s add that the Chinese, despite the language barrier, are very open and always ready to help.

The itinerary After carefully planning our route and considering the length of our stay (I had initially thought about applying for a visa longer than 30 days to stay for 6 weeks in China), we decided to take advantage of the recent option to stay for 30 days. Of course, we had to make some choices. I booked a one-way ticket from Paris to Xi’an and a return from Kunming to Paris once the itinerary was set: 9 days in northern Gansu 4 days in Hunan, specifically the well-known Zhangjiajie 15 days in Yunnan

Organization, transport, hotels This wasn’t a "backpacker" trip, as the hotels we booked were generally comfortable. I had arranged a car with a driver for the Yunnan portion through the Ciel Yunnan agency. Excellent choice—it allowed us to optimize our route. For the Gansu and Hunan portions, after much deliberation, we decided against hiring a driver. All our travel was by train and taxi. Taxis are available near train stations, airports, and some hotels in big cities. We also used "Didi," the Chinese equivalent of Uber. The app is available through Alipay. Getting around China by train is extremely easy. You just need to book your tickets on a travel site. I used trip.com and travelchina. Since we weren’t traveling during peak season, it was easy to get the tickets we wanted. You can buy train tickets up to 15 days before departure. You can book earlier, but there’s no guarantee you’ll get the time you want, especially during tourist seasons (usually the first week of October or May). Once at the station, you only need to show your passport, and you’ll need it again when leaving the station. Taxis are easy to find and not expensive. For day trips, we usually went through the hotel. Like everyone else, I had checked the prices of online tour agencies beforehand, and they were all overpriced. It’s better to wait until the last minute or, if possible, contact the hotel and ask them. I did this twice. We took domestic flights three times: Xi’an to Dunhuang Lanzhou to Changsha Changsha to Lijiang It’s best to buy flights shortly before departure, as prices are quite low then. There’s no point in booking months in advance. Often, flights only appear 2 months before departure. All hotel reservations were made on trip.com, except for three booked on Booking. Almost all exceeded our expectations in terms of comfort. Rooms were usually spacious, and new technology even makes its way into the rooms with "smart" toilets and automatic curtains… All for a very reasonable price.

The "attractions" That’s the term used on travel sites like trip.com for visits and activities, and it fits perfectly! Don’t expect to move freely around a natural tourist site. Cars aren’t allowed. The process is more or less the same everywhere: you arrive at the visitor center, pay the entrance fee, then, with your ticket or passport (always keep them on you!), you board a bus that takes you to the various viewpoints. The duration of the "tour" is usually indicated. It might seem confusing or even unnatural, but no one can avoid it unless you go to very remote, non-touristy places. Generally, the further west you go, the less this type of visit exists. The upside is that these places are better preserved since access is only by electric shuttle. On the downside, you sometimes have to deal with noisy tourist groups, their guides’ loudspeakers, and their non-stop chatter. But if you move a little further away, you’ll often find yourself alone.

Highlights of this trip:🙂 A 2-day escape to the Badan Jaran Desert—absolutely stunning. The colorful mountains near Zhangye. The Buddhist caves in Gansu. The breathtaking Hani and Yi rice terraces in Yuanyang. The architecture of the old towns, even if they sometimes feel a bit overdone. The warm welcome from the locals.

A little disappointed by: Zhangjiajie, despite its beauty. It was way too crowded, even though we were there in the off-season. And that’s nothing compared to the Stone Forest near Kunming… I also struggled with the food after a while. 😕

A few photos to come…

Hi there! I’m heading out in August for a two-day trek in the Vale do Pati. Do I need proper hiking boots, or will trail-running shoes do the job? Thanks in advance for your feedback! 😊😃

January 26th marks my first steps in Africa. I usually organize my trips without any assistance. But for Tanzania-Kenya, I need some advice. There will be 4 adults looking for authenticity over a month. How do we visit southern Kenya and northern Tanzania? Do we need guides? A driver-guide? What are the must-see spots? How do we get around? Rent a car? The cost of safaris seems exorbitant—is it justified? Isn’t there a way to do it with a local guide on foot? Can we improvise once we’re there? Thanks for your insights. Looking forward to reading your replies. Franz

Hi everyone,

This month’s contest theme is WOOD. Wood as a plant material—roots, trunks, branches that make up a tree. Dead or alive, splinters and knots. Sawdust too. Firewood, from the woodshed to the hearth. Wood as a crafting material and all the things it can become: from a spoon to a violin, a boat to a stave church, and so much more—way too long to list! 😉

Technical details:

1. Each of you can post up to 3 photos. One photo per message, numbered 1 to 3. Along with the shot, feel free to share a few written details—location, context, anecdote, or photography technique. Photos can be submitted until Tuesday, July 22 at midnight, Milan time.

2. Voting will take place from Wednesday, July 23 at 00:00 until Tuesday, July 29 at midnight. All forum members can vote for their 3 favorite photos, listing the photographer’s name and the photo number in order of preference: 3 points for first place, 2 for second, and 1 for third.

3. Results will be announced on Wednesday, July 30 during the day. In case of a tie, the number of first-place votes will decide. Photos already featured on a podium are not eligible to compete.

The winner will have the special privilege of organizing August’s contest.

This thread is reserved for contest photos. For other wood-themed photos and general discussions, head here.











Alright, your turn! 😛

Catherine

Hi everyone.

My family and I have decided to do a little 10-day road trip through Germany, Austria, Italy, Slovenia, and Croatia. Practically all European countries require a vignette to drive on highways or in certain zones. For Germany, an Eco vignette is required to drive in certain areas, like downtown Munich. Would anyone know if this site: https://vignette-allemagne.fr/ is legit? It seems easy to use and quick, but it’s not referenced or mentioned anywhere.

Genuine site or scam? Thanks for your feedback. Best regards,

Stéphane.

Hi everyone, I’m sharing the following itinerary for your experienced eyes 😏—I’m finalizing it for Kruger Park and two camps outside the park. We’re starting in the north, entering through Phalabowa Gate to head to Shingwedzi:

Shingwedzi Camp: 2 nights, sunrise drive Mopani Camp: 2 nights, morning walk and night drive Olifants Camp: 2 nights, morning walk Satara: 1 night, sunset drive Manyeleti Game Reserve: 1 night at Buffelshoek Lions Rock Luxury Tented Camp: 2 nights

Did I pick the right sunrise and sunset drives? Thanks in advance for your feedback and experiences! 😎

Hi there, I’d planned to visit Cathedral Valley, Goblin Valley, the Burr Trail/Northom loop, Factory Butte, and Moonscape Overlook, as well as the Capitol Reef scenic route over three days. The scenic Highway 12 would be for the following days.

Since I rented an AWD SUV, I was planning to contact an outfitter for Cathedral Valley, but they suggested that instead of doing Cathedral Valley with them and the rest solo, they could take me to the four most relevant sites mentioned in the title. Their plan is to start at sunrise at either Temples of the Sun/Moon or Moonscape Overlook and then hit the other three afterward. What do you think? Thanks! Louis

Hello,

I’m Bruno, and I need some advice for planning a long, amazing trip (at least 1 month) to the United States. I want to show my kids the incredible places I visited nearly 30 years ago! 🤪

How do I travel with 3 teens, who should I call, and what do you recommend?

Things have changed so much since then, and it’s way easier to travel at 20 with just a backpack! ^^

Thanks in advance! 😏