It's all in the title—I'm 70, and I've been traveling by bike (tent and camp stove) for five years now. Statistically, how many more years do I have left to plan my destinations and see (almost) everything?
Question is half realistic, half humorous.
To keep it simple: how old are you, fellow senior cyclists still on the road? And what are your biggest challenges?
Personally, I'm in good physical shape, though my cruising speed has dropped from 3–4 km/h over the past five years.
But arthritis (hip) is starting to make it tricky to swing my leg over the frame.
252 similar discussions in English
Hi there,
I just got back from two weeks in Fiji, and I noticed the forum discussions here are a bit outdated (the most recent ones are from 2017).
So feel free to ask if you'd like an update!
Hi there,
This travel journal is to share our trip to Myanmar in January-February 2017 and relive the experience...
Six stops:
- the economic capital, Yangon,
- the ethnic groups in the east around Kengtong,
- Inle Lake
- Mandalay
- Bagan
- the Golden Rock and Bago
A trip for two, but organized with a local agency.
Flight with Vietnam Airlines (Paris/Ho Chi Minh City/Yangon on the way out, Yangon/Hanoi/Paris on the way back)
First stop, Yangon
At last, we arrive! That moment of excitement and impatience we all know when we land in a country we don’t know but have been dreaming about for a while. Butterflies in our stomachs—not just from the long flight! It’s noon, everything goes smoothly (baggage, immigration, currency exchange, pre-booked taxi, ride to Yangon), and by 2:30 PM we check out of our hotel, tired from the journey but eager to explore the city and power through until evening to beat the jet lag. We’re driven by To-Wen. Traffic is pretty heavy, but strangely, no motorbikes or scooters... To-Wen explains that two-wheelers have been banned in Yangon for several years because they’d become too numerous and caused many injuries and fatalities. To compensate, a very developed public transport system has been put in place. Yangon, or Rangoon, isn’t Myanmar’s administrative capital. The official capital was moved to Naypyidaw in 2005 by government decision—some say to distance themselves from potential popular uprisings. Whatever the reason, it cost a fortune, and no one followed (only civil servants, who were forced to go), not even foreign embassies. This ghost capital makes all the Burmese we spoke to chuckle. Yangon is the economic, cultural, and diplomatic capital, and it’s the most populous city (4.5 million people).
What did we see? Well, first we discovered the Sule Pagoda, a funny concept of a "roundabout pagoda" since it’s right in the middle of a busy intersection! Circular, its outer wall houses many tiny stalls. Then comes the miracle: the hustle and bustle of the street contrasts with the calm inside. You leave a noisy roundabout and suddenly find yourself in another world... flowers and fruit in front of the altars, the scent of jasmine mixed with incense... Actually, this pagoda is very old—it’s said to have been founded in 230 BC to enshrine a hair of the Buddha, but it was in the 15th century that the great zedi (a slender stupa) on top reached its current height of 44 meters (see photos). It’s a symbolic site in the fight for democracy, as it was the rallying point for monk protests in 2007.

Next to the Sule Pagoda is Independence Park, which borders the colonial district (very run-down).

Then we had our first wow moment: the stunning Shwedagon Pagoda (see photos). It’s Myanmar’s most sacred Buddhist sanctuary, drawing crowds of devotees. Its stupa rises to 99 meters, surrounded by dozens of temples and zedis... It’s said that successive rulers have been embellishing and expanding it for over 1,500 years.

Believers gather in the many halls and circle the great golden stupa. Here, we encounter for the first time the incredible "quiet fervor" of the Burmese. A kind, open religiosity that doesn’t make us feel like intruders or nuisances—instead, it makes us want to understand their faith better.

If you go, make sure to be there in the late afternoon: the low rays of the setting sun bathe the site in gold and orange. The zedis glow... and everything becomes surreal.


The sun sets early, so we head back to the hotel around 6:30 PM. Lucky for us, it has a stunning view of Yangon by night from the top floor. We settle in to sip our first vacation cocktail. In the foreground, the shadow of Kandawgyi Lake, and in the background, the illuminated Shwedagon Pagoda, which serves as a landmark for the whole city. (See photo.)
Tomorrow, we fly to Kengtung. We’ll be back in Yangon at the end of our trip to explore more.
Time for bed by 10 PM—we need a restful night to adjust to Myanmar time...
Next post: Kengtung and meeting the local ethnic groups.

First stop, Yangon
At last, we arrive! That moment of excitement and impatience we all know when we land in a country we don’t know but have been dreaming about for a while. Butterflies in our stomachs—not just from the long flight! It’s noon, everything goes smoothly (baggage, immigration, currency exchange, pre-booked taxi, ride to Yangon), and by 2:30 PM we check out of our hotel, tired from the journey but eager to explore the city and power through until evening to beat the jet lag. We’re driven by To-Wen. Traffic is pretty heavy, but strangely, no motorbikes or scooters... To-Wen explains that two-wheelers have been banned in Yangon for several years because they’d become too numerous and caused many injuries and fatalities. To compensate, a very developed public transport system has been put in place. Yangon, or Rangoon, isn’t Myanmar’s administrative capital. The official capital was moved to Naypyidaw in 2005 by government decision—some say to distance themselves from potential popular uprisings. Whatever the reason, it cost a fortune, and no one followed (only civil servants, who were forced to go), not even foreign embassies. This ghost capital makes all the Burmese we spoke to chuckle. Yangon is the economic, cultural, and diplomatic capital, and it’s the most populous city (4.5 million people).
What did we see? Well, first we discovered the Sule Pagoda, a funny concept of a "roundabout pagoda" since it’s right in the middle of a busy intersection! Circular, its outer wall houses many tiny stalls. Then comes the miracle: the hustle and bustle of the street contrasts with the calm inside. You leave a noisy roundabout and suddenly find yourself in another world... flowers and fruit in front of the altars, the scent of jasmine mixed with incense... Actually, this pagoda is very old—it’s said to have been founded in 230 BC to enshrine a hair of the Buddha, but it was in the 15th century that the great zedi (a slender stupa) on top reached its current height of 44 meters (see photos). It’s a symbolic site in the fight for democracy, as it was the rallying point for monk protests in 2007.

Next to the Sule Pagoda is Independence Park, which borders the colonial district (very run-down).

Then we had our first wow moment: the stunning Shwedagon Pagoda (see photos). It’s Myanmar’s most sacred Buddhist sanctuary, drawing crowds of devotees. Its stupa rises to 99 meters, surrounded by dozens of temples and zedis... It’s said that successive rulers have been embellishing and expanding it for over 1,500 years.

Believers gather in the many halls and circle the great golden stupa. Here, we encounter for the first time the incredible "quiet fervor" of the Burmese. A kind, open religiosity that doesn’t make us feel like intruders or nuisances—instead, it makes us want to understand their faith better.

If you go, make sure to be there in the late afternoon: the low rays of the setting sun bathe the site in gold and orange. The zedis glow... and everything becomes surreal.


The sun sets early, so we head back to the hotel around 6:30 PM. Lucky for us, it has a stunning view of Yangon by night from the top floor. We settle in to sip our first vacation cocktail. In the foreground, the shadow of Kandawgyi Lake, and in the background, the illuminated Shwedagon Pagoda, which serves as a landmark for the whole city. (See photo.)
Tomorrow, we fly to Kengtung. We’ll be back in Yangon at the end of our trip to explore more.
Time for bed by 10 PM—we need a restful night to adjust to Myanmar time...
Next post: Kengtung and meeting the local ethnic groups.

Inside South Africa
The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.
* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.
* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *
You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa
What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *
Meeting in the township.

Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...
The Burst Hose. The passenger is so impatient to arrive that the coachman whips a horse that barely tolerates the mistreatment. I can tell she’s gearing up for a kick, and suddenly, at full gallop, she stops responding. If I press the spur, she cuts out but accepts a half-pressed pedal. She pulled this stunt last year, right in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and I can guess the trick: she blew a hose! An hour at a slow trot brings us to a Ford garage. A workshop manager, as sullen as he is efficient, has the necessary parts removed to reach the hose, then announces he doesn’t have the spare part and will need a week to get it. I suggest taking advantage of the access to make a temporary repair on the tear, but he refuses, arguing the pressure is so high that the patch would give way immediately—"It’s not a Testarossa, after all!" After reassembly, he refuses to charge us anything and advises us to head to the next town, 200 kilometers away—off we go for another four hours. Semi-trailers overtake us without mercy; I’m reminded of *Duel*. At the Land Rover dealership, we learn the part will take two working days to arrive, and it’s Thursday. I decide to have the hose delivered to the house without wheels—I’ll change it myself. Five hours later, climbing the pass in first gear, we reach the object of her desires. * Hide and Seek In Brittany, my neighbor is a taciturn, touchy fisherman. He’s anchored his old boat in the middle of the estuary that separates two departments and uses it as a storage space. It’s a jumble of nets, buoys, and traps. The old wooden vessel is falling apart, and the hull’s paint is nothing but a distant memory—so much so that the Maritime Affairs Directorate of his department orders him to remove it or repaint it. Asterix also runs a restaurant on the harbor, where he treats customers to his catch. One Sunday afternoon, we see him loading cooks, servers, and dishwashers armed with rollers, brushes, and paint cans into dinghies. Off they go for two hours of slapdash painting and laughter. Once the starboard side is done, everyone returns to prepare for the evening service. The port side will wait until the Maritime Affairs Directorate from the other department reacts. This story came back to me when I got home: the side visible from the road had been repainted, but the other side was left as is. * The Blonde, the Red, the White, and the Black Many workers are paid at the end of each week, but alcohol sales for takeaway are banned on Saturdays and Sundays. So, on Friday nights, the bars are packed, and liquor stores never empty—of people who are already full. Their limited means reduce them to cheap, harsh wines or bland beers. Yet, they still end up wasted.
* Seven In mainland France, you can easily raise seven sheep per hectare. In the Great Karoo, it takes seven hectares of sparse but tasty vegetation to feed just one sheep. Not to mention the energy spent moving around. Add to that the fact that a French sheep produces about one and a half lambs per year, while here, between droughts and jackals, it’s closer to 0.7, and you’ll understand why, with a 7,000-hectare farm—the local basic unit—a South African farmer’s income barely exceeds that of a farm a hundred times smaller in Brittany. This weekend, the annual agricultural show is taking place at the fairgrounds. Some come from far away, so a procession of pickups, trailers, and trucks loaded with sheep makes its way up the main street: we’re definitely in the Karoo. I expected a competition of lean, wiry ascetics, able to pass on traits useful to the environment, but I suspect these bodybuilder show animals don’t just graze on the bush and are doped with alfalfa. Besides, I caught a dealer red-handed with a bag of pellets. * They’re Not Dolls Ken is a professional hunting guide, working independently. When it’s not hunting season, he goes fishing for clients, mainly in the United States. He says Trump’s election—whom he slightly resembles, though younger—would be good for his business, but he doesn’t like Trump, nor, it seems, his clients much. He wanted to be a farmer, but in the post-apartheid context, taking over a farm was a gamble. His wife, who’s more beautiful than Barbie and Melania, silently agrees. * Neighbors That’s the problem with women: their *it girl* side. Within a year of her moving in, we got two new neighbors. One on the other side of the track, the other half an hour away (here, that’s *next door*). One only travels at the controls of his black helicopter, the other aboard his private Boeing 737. The first is a very wealthy farmer from the northeast of the country who’s expanding into the Karoo. He just bought two non-contiguous farms of 6,000 hectares each. I still don’t know what the owner of the farm in between is thinking. The newcomer plans to create a wildlife reserve for breeding purposes; our future neighbors will be giraffes, rhinos, and antelopes, including rare species like the Sable. They say he’s a man in a hurry, determined: when the municipality dragged its feet on his request to refurbish the public track that serves as our border, he just went ahead and did it himself. It was a historic farm, crossed by paths leading to other farms, home to a pond full of birds where water from the mountain ends up after the villagers have taken their share. That’s where the golf course I was about to become the 29th member of was located. Now, it’s all closed off, fenced, and lined with monumental gates. The Wild West in the Western Cape. Is it because his name ends in ‘-ski’ that rumors link him to Slavic mafias and advise against crossing him? The same rumors say he’s involved in the uranium market—well, there’s uranium in the Karoo’s subsoil. The second neighbor is a Saudi prince who just bought a modestly sized farm—3,500 hectares—but don’t think he’s a minor prince. He paid four and a half times the market price to get it! The farm had been in the same family for two centuries, and the owners refused to even consider selling. The prince’s agent—money, in this case, black gold—kept coming back every week despite repeated refusals, finally saying his client wanted this farm at any price. A price they were asked to set. And that’s how you sell your ancestors’ graves. There are plenty of huge farms for sale here, but the prince was looking for a property where he wouldn’t see any roads, tracks, or other houses or farms. He’ll come a few days a year to hunt. However, he’s annoyed: the runway at the nearest airport, two hours away, isn’t long enough for his private jet, so he’ll have to land in Cape Town, like me, and endure nearly two hours by helicopter. That’s how it goes in South Africa. I’d be curious to know what Julius Malema, leader of the EFF (Economic Freedom Fighters), who advocates the Zimbabwean model of land redistribution, thinks about it.
* Biko The autobiography of a journalist and politician of European descent, South African, is published this week. In 1977, this rookie got her editor’s permission to investigate the death in detention of black leader Steve Biko. The apartheid regime’s political police claimed he had died from a hunger strike. The bold young woman discovered that the medical examiners reported a slightly overweight corpse, and later, it was revealed that Biko had died from abuse, if not torture. Under pressure after publishing her investigation, Helen Zille, disillusioned, gave up journalism and turned to politics. She is one of the white South Africans who fought against apartheid, and it’s reassuring that some people have a conscience that transcends class or race. *
You Have the Watches... …we have the time. Anyone who’s worked with Africans knows this response they occasionally throw at us. Willem, the inconsistent gardener, couldn’t stand the observation: running around the place at top speed, even with a pitchfork over his shoulder, wasn’t getting the job done. So Jan replaced him. We share the same first name—no doubt we’ll accomplish great things. He’s known to be reliable, meaning he shows up for work, and he only speaks Afrikaans. We communicate like at the circus: thumbs up, thumbs down. Jan has the build of a bushman but the bone structure and features of a mixed-race person—multiple mixes. He’s a sprite, always moving, sometimes without purpose or destination (the journey is the path). I lose sight of him—it’s not exactly a virgin forest—and he reappears elsewhere, busy. Jan doesn’t understand wasted water—he must think the same of us trying to cultivate the desert. He’s a gardener like I’m a violinist, virtuosos of playback. After a very light lunch, he lies down on the ground in the shadow of the stables and falls asleep. If his arrival time in the morning is variable, it’s never before the agreed hour, but his departure time is unchanging: it’s 3 PM, no matter what. No point trying to fool him; he can count and shows me the fancy watch eating up his thin wrist. * Colours Veldrift, Oyster Catcher, Lobster Red, Namib, Dune, Lion's Den, Kalahari, Bush Fire, Karoo Dawn, Cape Fynbos, Safari Trail, African Pan, Bushveld Plains, African Queen, Karoo Drift. A bestiary? A herbarium? No, the colors offered by the country’s top paint manufacturer. All the shades of the continent from an armchair. * Pets She loves three mastiffs, a meter tall at the withers. Is it for their beauty? Their breed? Their deterrent power, because knowing these beasts exist, no one would dare enter her property without an invitation? A bit of all that, probably. She won’t say. She loves pets but likes other people’s less, especially the poor ones. So, she actively participates in the campaign to sterilize dogs and cats in the neighboring township. Just think, the poor things can’t afford to feed or care for them, meaning they can’t ensure them a decent life. She and others justify the pets section of the local mini-supermarket. Whether your pet is a puppy, adult, or mature, whether it likes fish or prefers beef (no one thought of a dog-based reference from the township?), you’ll find your happiness. While you order, many locals will only have access to the parking lot to beg. * Democracy in Africa
What would Tocqueville say about Democracy in America this fall? After the father, we had the son; after the husband, and by default, we might get the wife. No one else, really? Let’s not talk about France and its current vaudeville. A Ivorian academic believes African peoples aren’t ready for "Western-style" democracy (caricatured as a free T-shirt buying a vote). Does he know the same is true elsewhere, where many voters vote not for a vision, a project, or convictions, but to protect their own interests? Here in South Africa, national elections were held recently, confirming the ANC’s decline in favor of the Democratic Alliance (DA). Historically (since the end of apartheid) seen as the party of whites (who make up less than 10% of the population), it has managed to rally those disillusioned by the clientelism, incompetence, and corruption of Mandela’s unworthy heirs. The DA now governs five of the country’s six largest cities. In the neighboring township, long after the vote ended, ANC and DA T-shirt wearers cross paths courteously. Today, it’s different. The DA’s national leader is holding a rally in a vacant lot. A few hundred people are there, including a good third of children, three-quarters of them ragged. Not an ANC T-shirt in sight amid the smoke of braais and deafening music. Fewer than ten pale faces: the journalist I’m driving, a local official, and activists. A small convoy of limousines arrives—just four, fewer than any of President Zuma’s offspring’s private stables. The crowd stirs, flags wave, and ululations ring out. Mmusi Maimane is a light-skinned mixed-race man, towering over the assembly, which he gently parts, joining in the dances and posing for selfies. He’ll give his speech, half in English, half in Afrikaans, perched on a truck platform—the meeting’s cost must be bearable for taxpayers. A mediocre populist orator, no doubt, but skilled. Two hours later, in the evening, another gathering. This time in a historic town property. A hundred and fifty people, casual chic, all white except for three mixed-race individuals... and the DA President. A Rotary Club vibe: everyone the town has in terms of farmers, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs has paid their dues to honor Mmusi Maimane’s visit. His admirers see him as a new Mandela or compare him to Obama; his opponents think he’s being manipulated, and his detractors call him a traitor. He’s under forty, intelligent, and his wife is white. The chance he’ll become President of South Africa isn’t zero. * Posh Port Out, Starboard Home. Sonja, who walks the desert at dawn, calls one of her acquaintances posh, meaning snobbish. She’s got a sharp tongue. Wealthy English people (not the ones sent to Australia as convicts one-way) traveling to India would book their cabin on the port side on the way out and starboard on the way back. That way, they had a view of the coast throughout the journey instead of the ocean’s emptiness—whatever Kersauzon says. I didn’t know that by choosing my seat on the plane, depending on the route and time, so the sun lights up the landscape instead of blinding me, I was being posh. * Cosmopolitan Wine Tasting A pale lookalike of Jacob Zuma, a painter teaching his art in Europe; an Antwerp writer in South Africa; a desert gardener with a surfer look; an Irishwoman teaching yoga in the Karoo; an Afrikaner passionate about world history; another, our host, up to his neck in wine; and two French observers—observed observers. Conversations flow, then bottles, just before some hosts leave. Recurring corruption scandals involving President Zuma and his inner circle. A Chenin Blanc. Napoleon, who could have changed the course of South African history. An unwooded Chardonnay. The snake, a puff adder, one found in her garden. A Sauvignon Blanc. The kudu hit by a car at the village exit, which didn’t survive. A Pinotage. The bloody Anglo-Boer War. A Shiraz named Down to Earth. * Little Patagonia A story of pressure or depression, temperature differentials, or perhaps an age-old war between the elements—almost every day at the end of the afternoon, as if tucking in, the wind rushes down the mountain and gives a free haircut. When it falls, you don’t know where, and you hope it hurt itself and won’t get back up. I’m going to build a mast on the house, hoist the sails, trim them, and sail across the desert—it will remember the sea. *
Meeting in the township.
Since a cover is needed (in black and white)...
Hi there,
We’re planning a family road trip (kids aged 10 and 15) over 23 days between San Francisco and Portland (Northern California and Oregon). It’ll be a loop. We want to take our time with hikes but also enjoy the cities to relax a bit (Portland / SF).
Here’s our itinerary—I’d love your thoughts on the places we’ve picked, suggestions for stops along the way, and whether this route is doable given the distances (especially Tahoe Lake to Crater Lake and Crater Lake to Portland):
Day 1: Arrive in San Francisco midday, head to Yosemite (3 nights). Day 1/2: Yosemite Valley / Glacier Point, etc. Day 3: Tioga Road with a stop at Mono Lake (1 night in Bridgeport). Day 4: Bodie in the morning, then drive to North Lake Tahoe (2 nights in North Lake Tahoe). Day 5: Lake Tahoe. Day 6: Long drive to Crater Lake via Burney Falls? (2 nights in Fort Klamath). Day 7: Crater Lake. Day 8: Drive to Portland via Bend (4 nights in Portland). Days 9–11: Portland + Columbia Gorge. Day 12: Portland to Newport via Highway 101: Cannon Beach/Tillamook (1 night in Newport). Day 13: Newport to Golden Beach via Florence/Oregon Dunes (1 night in Golden Beach). Day 14: Drive to Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park (3 nights near Crescent City). Days 15–16: Redwood National Park (Fern Canyon / Avenue of the Giants, etc.). Day 17: Drive along the coast via Eureka / Fort Bragg (1 night in Willits). Day 18: Drive to San Francisco via Napa Valley (5 nights in SF). Days 19–22: San Francisco. Day 23: Departure.
Everything’s booked but still flexible, so I can adjust if needed.
Thanks in advance!
We’re planning a family road trip (kids aged 10 and 15) over 23 days between San Francisco and Portland (Northern California and Oregon). It’ll be a loop. We want to take our time with hikes but also enjoy the cities to relax a bit (Portland / SF).
Here’s our itinerary—I’d love your thoughts on the places we’ve picked, suggestions for stops along the way, and whether this route is doable given the distances (especially Tahoe Lake to Crater Lake and Crater Lake to Portland):
Day 1: Arrive in San Francisco midday, head to Yosemite (3 nights). Day 1/2: Yosemite Valley / Glacier Point, etc. Day 3: Tioga Road with a stop at Mono Lake (1 night in Bridgeport). Day 4: Bodie in the morning, then drive to North Lake Tahoe (2 nights in North Lake Tahoe). Day 5: Lake Tahoe. Day 6: Long drive to Crater Lake via Burney Falls? (2 nights in Fort Klamath). Day 7: Crater Lake. Day 8: Drive to Portland via Bend (4 nights in Portland). Days 9–11: Portland + Columbia Gorge. Day 12: Portland to Newport via Highway 101: Cannon Beach/Tillamook (1 night in Newport). Day 13: Newport to Golden Beach via Florence/Oregon Dunes (1 night in Golden Beach). Day 14: Drive to Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park (3 nights near Crescent City). Days 15–16: Redwood National Park (Fern Canyon / Avenue of the Giants, etc.). Day 17: Drive along the coast via Eureka / Fort Bragg (1 night in Willits). Day 18: Drive to San Francisco via Napa Valley (5 nights in SF). Days 19–22: San Francisco. Day 23: Departure.
Everything’s booked but still flexible, so I can adjust if needed.
Thanks in advance!
Hello everyone...
Well, here I am, back again...
By chance, a bit like Mrs. Attila, my route roughly followed the same paths I took 8 and 6 years ago... I even thought of various travel journal titles like... "Where the grass has grown back!"
And then. People who know me (and some forum members) must be wondering:
"Why come back so often, almost every year since the 2000s, to this part of the world?"
Usually, I answer:
For the people, the landscapes, the animals. Because it’s a big country, a very big one where the horizon feels even farther away.
A country with so much variety—deserts, mountains, oceans, cities...
Because it’s a country that’s quite easy for "average" Europeans to navigate in terms of hygiene, food, driving, and way of life... Because you can plan your entire trip from your living room, all by yourself.
And because there’s still a pioneer spirit in the air.
And most of all, it’s a country that has turned toward the future without forgetting its past, giving the word "forgiveness" its full meaning.
Well, all that... those are just words.
Here comes, little by little, an example of a "classic" itinerary—simple, reliable, efficient, and balanced. Three weeks of discoveries, a first taste of this country!
Hence the final title of this travel journal:
Why South Africa? A simple example!

Well, here I am, back again...
By chance, a bit like Mrs. Attila, my route roughly followed the same paths I took 8 and 6 years ago... I even thought of various travel journal titles like... "Where the grass has grown back!"
And then. People who know me (and some forum members) must be wondering:
"Why come back so often, almost every year since the 2000s, to this part of the world?"
Usually, I answer:
For the people, the landscapes, the animals. Because it’s a big country, a very big one where the horizon feels even farther away.
A country with so much variety—deserts, mountains, oceans, cities...
Because it’s a country that’s quite easy for "average" Europeans to navigate in terms of hygiene, food, driving, and way of life... Because you can plan your entire trip from your living room, all by yourself.
And because there’s still a pioneer spirit in the air.
And most of all, it’s a country that has turned toward the future without forgetting its past, giving the word "forgiveness" its full meaning.
Well, all that... those are just words.
Here comes, little by little, an example of a "classic" itinerary—simple, reliable, efficient, and balanced. Three weeks of discoveries, a first taste of this country!
Hence the final title of this travel journal:
Why South Africa? A simple example!

Hi,
I’m planning a trip to Australia—Paris to Melbourne.
I’m flying with Etihad and have a 1-hour connection in Abu Dhabi.
Does that seem doable to you?
Thanks for your feedback and experiences!
Hi there,
I’m reaching out to find a pen pal from anywhere in the world. I’m originally from Burkina Faso.
Best regards,
W. Dieudonné OUEDRAOGO
Prologue
This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…
A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.
And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.
Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.
As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.
Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.
This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…
A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.
And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.
Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.
As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.
Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.
In some countries, the price charged to tourists is often higher than the one for locals.
Is it legal for a restaurant, for example, to have a "price for locals" and a "price for foreigners"? Do they have the right to do that? (Because it really annoys me—you can’t imagine how much money I’ve lost to this scam.)
Aren’t there any local organizations that could call out this scam?
At the same time, since this kind of scam happens often in poorer countries, the money I lose ultimately goes to those countries, so it’s like I’m donating to a humanitarian organization. So in the end, it doesn’t bother me *that* much—when I get scammed, I just tell myself I’m doing a generous act to help the poor in that country.
Is it legal for a restaurant, for example, to have a "price for locals" and a "price for foreigners"? Do they have the right to do that? (Because it really annoys me—you can’t imagine how much money I’ve lost to this scam.)
Aren’t there any local organizations that could call out this scam?
At the same time, since this kind of scam happens often in poorer countries, the money I lose ultimately goes to those countries, so it’s like I’m donating to a humanitarian organization. So in the end, it doesn’t bother me *that* much—when I get scammed, I just tell myself I’m doing a generous act to help the poor in that country.
Are you a wine lover?
Do you drink wine with your meal, and how often—every day, just on weekends, or only occasionally for special events?
What are your favorite wines, from which country, and what grape variety? I drink wine with my evening meal every day. I’m particularly fond of wines from Australia and Spain—I really like grape varieties like Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz.
Do you drink wine with your meal, and how often—every day, just on weekends, or only occasionally for special events?
What are your favorite wines, from which country, and what grape variety? I drink wine with my evening meal every day. I’m particularly fond of wines from Australia and Spain—I really like grape varieties like Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz.
I’ve never done a travel journal on VF before... so I’m giving it a go this year 😉. Just to share a bit of my 3-week trip around the West.
Since I couldn’t find anyone to share the trip with this year, I decided to go solo for 3 weeks at the last minute. So, it wasn’t a super organized or original trip—flight tickets booked last-minute, a loosely planned itinerary—but it was a choice I made.
I wanted to book zero hotels and just drive wherever I felt like. No set hikes or specific goals. Just a classic route through places I already knew for the most part, taking the time to soak in the landscapes. So, don’t expect a story about epic hikes leading to caves or hidden arches in unusual spots. It was more like a return to the roots of my first trip, with one twist: I wanted to explore some areas by mountain bike. Just to see things a little differently.
First up, instead of photos, I’ll share a little time-lapse I made during the trip.
Thursday, October 31: Left Nice early in the morning for Phoenix via London.
The trip was a bit long because I had to wait 5.5 hours in London. My flight ticket was booked kinda late, so I didn’t have much choice.
And then it hit me—when you’re prepping for a trip, you always think you’ll forget something. It was in London that I realized I’d left my driver’s license on my living room shelf. I searched everywhere, but nope, I didn’t bring it.🤪
Luckily, I had an international permit, but the rental contract clearly stated that both licenses had to be presented.
I called a friend to ask her to overnight it to my first hotel, crossing my fingers that the mail wouldn’t take two weeks to arrive.
The flight with British Airways went pretty well. Comfortable enough to watch two movies, eat, take a little nap, and boom—I was in Phoenix.
Around 8 PM local time, I got to the Alamo car rental agency, and surprise—they didn’t care about my license at all. They glanced at the international permit, told me to bring the other one when I got it (basically, they didn’t give a damn), and handed me my car! Woohoo! 😛

I headed to my hotel (the only one I’d booked for my first night), explained to the front desk that my license should arrive by mail so they’d be in the loop, and crashed for a well-deserved first night in the U.S.
Friday, November 1 (And yes! It was a holiday in France, which would complicate my mail situation later.)
I woke up super early with my first goal: find a decent mountain bike at a good price but sturdy enough to handle some national park trails.
As I mentioned earlier, I decided to switch things up this year and explore some mountain bike trails—or just ride whenever I got the chance 😉.
I checked two Walmarts before finally finding a solid bike for under $150. Some might wonder why I bought one—well, the reason’s simple. Renting a bike costs between $40 and $70 a day. My trip lasted 22 days. QED (that’s "quod erat demonstrandum" for those who didn’t get it).
I bought the bike, which fit in my Jeep Compass by folding down the back seats (not super convenient, but it worked).

Off I went on my first adventures.
I decided to head to Apache Junction.
First stop: the Apache Trail at Goldfield Ghost Town. Pretty cute, though super touristy. Some classic Western decor, a little chapel overlooking everything, a museum, a mine, a small Disneyland-style train, souvenir shops, and places to grab a snack. Nothing mind-blowing, but still a fun little visit—especially if you’ve got kids.


I got lucky and explored the ghost town with two school buses—about a hundred excited kids. Total chaos for a ghost town, but hilarious to watch from a distance 😎.
A little further down the Apache Trail, there’s Lost Dutchman State Park. I didn’t linger too long because my goal was to reach the lakes, and after my Walmart adventure and some driving, it was already almost 1 PM. I munched on a bag of chips and hit the road (lots of 20–25 mph speed limits).
I spotted N 1st Water Road along the way, planning to come back in a few days.
My plan to get to the lakes ASAP got derailed when I found a parking lot with a horse trail right in the middle of the saguaros.
I asked a ranger in the lot if I could ride the trail on my mountain bike. He said it’d probably be tough but gave me the green light.
Off I went in my padded shorts and helmet. First bike ride through the cacti with my trusty travel companion (my bike, obviously).

I started off super excited on what seemed like an easy trail, but I quickly realized horse trails don’t account for some key biking challenges 😎—like climbing rocks isn’t exactly a breeze on a mountain bike 😛. No biggie, I carried the bike a few times but got to see my first saguaros up close! A pretty cool way to explore—I don’t regret buying the bike at all!
I got back on the road after drinking 1.5 liters of water (even in November, the sun’s no joke) and headed toward Canyon Lake. With vibes like Lake Powell, I was blown away by the scenery and decided to hang out a bit—just to "soak it in" and enjoy the quiet to end my day. I didn’t see more of the Apache Trail because night falls fast, and for my first day, I figured that was plenty.


I’d decided not to stress about seeing everything at all costs since I’ve traveled a lot in the U.S. and plan to keep coming back. Whatever I missed, I’d catch next time—but I wanted to fully enjoy a few landscapes.
I drove back to Phoenix, grabbed a good burger, and spent the evening in my hotel room planning the next day. Originally, I was only supposed to stay one night in Phoenix, but with my license still MIA, I changed my plans. In the end, I was solo, no reservations anywhere, so I’d just take it day by day!
Saturday, November 2:
I decided to wake up early and head to Tucson for the day. The drive from Phoenix was pretty easy. About 2 hours later, I was at the entrance of Saguaro National Park.
And guess what? There was a little trail perfect for mountain biking. I parked my Jeep at the park entrance and hopped on my bike. I ended up biking the whole park from start to finish—about 20 kilometers, with a paved main road and a gorgeous central trail right through the saguaros! Stunning!

Even being careful, I still got a few cactus spines in my left arm from brushing too close (it stings!). Not easy to remove, so I’d advise anyone with the same idea to be more careful than I was. You’ll figure it out fast! 😉
I spent most of the day in this amazing park—it’s totally worth the detour. It feels like hundreds of chimneys all lined up at equal distances. A unique landscape you’ve gotta see.
Next, I headed to Tucson to check out the airplane boneyard. I’d seen it in a movie years ago and always wanted to see it for myself. Mission accomplished! It was pretty intense, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem possible to get to the most interesting plane alignments. There’s a museum with different types of planes and a guided tour. I settled for peeking through the fences at the planes guarded by military patrols.

I left around 6 PM and got back to Phoenix around 7:30–8 PM, super happy with my day of biking through the cacti!
Sunday, November 3:
Morning by the pool, lounging around—pure bliss. Around 11 AM, I headed to the Premium Outlets. Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I bought 5 pairs of Levi’s for the price of one in France. Just for that, I knew coming to the U.S. was worth it! After that, nothing super exciting—except a cotton field south of Phoenix that I couldn’t stop admiring for a good hour.

I drove around the city—pretty dead on a Sunday—and headed back to the Apache Trail to tackle N 1st Water Road, which I’d spotted two days earlier. A really fun trail to bike if you’ve got a mountain bike 😉. It gives access to several hikes and offers some great scenery. Highly recommend it.


Since I couldn’t find anyone to share the trip with this year, I decided to go solo for 3 weeks at the last minute. So, it wasn’t a super organized or original trip—flight tickets booked last-minute, a loosely planned itinerary—but it was a choice I made.
I wanted to book zero hotels and just drive wherever I felt like. No set hikes or specific goals. Just a classic route through places I already knew for the most part, taking the time to soak in the landscapes. So, don’t expect a story about epic hikes leading to caves or hidden arches in unusual spots. It was more like a return to the roots of my first trip, with one twist: I wanted to explore some areas by mountain bike. Just to see things a little differently.
First up, instead of photos, I’ll share a little time-lapse I made during the trip.
Thursday, October 31: Left Nice early in the morning for Phoenix via London.
The trip was a bit long because I had to wait 5.5 hours in London. My flight ticket was booked kinda late, so I didn’t have much choice.
And then it hit me—when you’re prepping for a trip, you always think you’ll forget something. It was in London that I realized I’d left my driver’s license on my living room shelf. I searched everywhere, but nope, I didn’t bring it.🤪
Luckily, I had an international permit, but the rental contract clearly stated that both licenses had to be presented.
I called a friend to ask her to overnight it to my first hotel, crossing my fingers that the mail wouldn’t take two weeks to arrive.
The flight with British Airways went pretty well. Comfortable enough to watch two movies, eat, take a little nap, and boom—I was in Phoenix.
Around 8 PM local time, I got to the Alamo car rental agency, and surprise—they didn’t care about my license at all. They glanced at the international permit, told me to bring the other one when I got it (basically, they didn’t give a damn), and handed me my car! Woohoo! 😛

I headed to my hotel (the only one I’d booked for my first night), explained to the front desk that my license should arrive by mail so they’d be in the loop, and crashed for a well-deserved first night in the U.S.
Friday, November 1 (And yes! It was a holiday in France, which would complicate my mail situation later.)
I woke up super early with my first goal: find a decent mountain bike at a good price but sturdy enough to handle some national park trails.
As I mentioned earlier, I decided to switch things up this year and explore some mountain bike trails—or just ride whenever I got the chance 😉.
I checked two Walmarts before finally finding a solid bike for under $150. Some might wonder why I bought one—well, the reason’s simple. Renting a bike costs between $40 and $70 a day. My trip lasted 22 days. QED (that’s "quod erat demonstrandum" for those who didn’t get it).
I bought the bike, which fit in my Jeep Compass by folding down the back seats (not super convenient, but it worked).

Off I went on my first adventures.
I decided to head to Apache Junction.
First stop: the Apache Trail at Goldfield Ghost Town. Pretty cute, though super touristy. Some classic Western decor, a little chapel overlooking everything, a museum, a mine, a small Disneyland-style train, souvenir shops, and places to grab a snack. Nothing mind-blowing, but still a fun little visit—especially if you’ve got kids.


I got lucky and explored the ghost town with two school buses—about a hundred excited kids. Total chaos for a ghost town, but hilarious to watch from a distance 😎.
A little further down the Apache Trail, there’s Lost Dutchman State Park. I didn’t linger too long because my goal was to reach the lakes, and after my Walmart adventure and some driving, it was already almost 1 PM. I munched on a bag of chips and hit the road (lots of 20–25 mph speed limits).
I spotted N 1st Water Road along the way, planning to come back in a few days.
My plan to get to the lakes ASAP got derailed when I found a parking lot with a horse trail right in the middle of the saguaros.
I asked a ranger in the lot if I could ride the trail on my mountain bike. He said it’d probably be tough but gave me the green light.
Off I went in my padded shorts and helmet. First bike ride through the cacti with my trusty travel companion (my bike, obviously).

I started off super excited on what seemed like an easy trail, but I quickly realized horse trails don’t account for some key biking challenges 😎—like climbing rocks isn’t exactly a breeze on a mountain bike 😛. No biggie, I carried the bike a few times but got to see my first saguaros up close! A pretty cool way to explore—I don’t regret buying the bike at all!
I got back on the road after drinking 1.5 liters of water (even in November, the sun’s no joke) and headed toward Canyon Lake. With vibes like Lake Powell, I was blown away by the scenery and decided to hang out a bit—just to "soak it in" and enjoy the quiet to end my day. I didn’t see more of the Apache Trail because night falls fast, and for my first day, I figured that was plenty.


I’d decided not to stress about seeing everything at all costs since I’ve traveled a lot in the U.S. and plan to keep coming back. Whatever I missed, I’d catch next time—but I wanted to fully enjoy a few landscapes.
I drove back to Phoenix, grabbed a good burger, and spent the evening in my hotel room planning the next day. Originally, I was only supposed to stay one night in Phoenix, but with my license still MIA, I changed my plans. In the end, I was solo, no reservations anywhere, so I’d just take it day by day!
Saturday, November 2:
I decided to wake up early and head to Tucson for the day. The drive from Phoenix was pretty easy. About 2 hours later, I was at the entrance of Saguaro National Park.
And guess what? There was a little trail perfect for mountain biking. I parked my Jeep at the park entrance and hopped on my bike. I ended up biking the whole park from start to finish—about 20 kilometers, with a paved main road and a gorgeous central trail right through the saguaros! Stunning!

Even being careful, I still got a few cactus spines in my left arm from brushing too close (it stings!). Not easy to remove, so I’d advise anyone with the same idea to be more careful than I was. You’ll figure it out fast! 😉
I spent most of the day in this amazing park—it’s totally worth the detour. It feels like hundreds of chimneys all lined up at equal distances. A unique landscape you’ve gotta see.
Next, I headed to Tucson to check out the airplane boneyard. I’d seen it in a movie years ago and always wanted to see it for myself. Mission accomplished! It was pretty intense, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem possible to get to the most interesting plane alignments. There’s a museum with different types of planes and a guided tour. I settled for peeking through the fences at the planes guarded by military patrols.

I left around 6 PM and got back to Phoenix around 7:30–8 PM, super happy with my day of biking through the cacti!
Sunday, November 3:
Morning by the pool, lounging around—pure bliss. Around 11 AM, I headed to the Premium Outlets. Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I bought 5 pairs of Levi’s for the price of one in France. Just for that, I knew coming to the U.S. was worth it! After that, nothing super exciting—except a cotton field south of Phoenix that I couldn’t stop admiring for a good hour.

I drove around the city—pretty dead on a Sunday—and headed back to the Apache Trail to tackle N 1st Water Road, which I’d spotted two days earlier. A really fun trail to bike if you’ve got a mountain bike 😉. It gives access to several hikes and offers some great scenery. Highly recommend it.


Hi everyone,
Since it’s a hot topic, yet rarely shown, and since there’s quite a bit of criticism and prejudice around it—and since I’ve had three in ten days—I’m going to talk about layovers at Istanbul Airport, especially with Turkish Airlines. This is a common scenario for forum members planning trips to Central Asia, the Caucasus, but also Japan, China, Australia, Africa, and more.
It all starts on a plane beginning its descent, knowing that the approach to Istanbul Airport is always quite long—about thirty minutes. Through the windows, if you’re lucky, you get a view of the city. You need to know a little to get your bearings, but here we’re on the side of Sabiha Gökçen Airport, south of Istanbul on the Asian side. You can spot the Bosphorus, the Golden Horn, and Fenerbahçe’s football stadium.

Landing over highways with three times four lanes, and then the airport tarmac for the taxi phase. This can take a while—sometimes nearly half an hour—but this morning, luck was on my side: barely more than 10 minutes. It’s rare now for Turkish Airlines planes to unload via pax buses, so we got a jet bridge. Avgeeks will immediately notice they’re not in Europe anymore but in another world: Pobeda, Belavia, and plenty of more exotic airlines. As the captain seriously put it in his final announcement after thanking the kids, it’s the “crossroads of the world.”
We suddenly step into a massive corridor, an endless, bright hall, usually deserted, and turn left or right—I think it’s always left for the flights I take, heading toward “transfers.” The walk is supposed to take a good ten minutes at worst. Watch out for airport vehicles—they come fast and don’t honk.

Here’s where it gets interesting: Istanbul has always had a bypass for short layovers, something you never hear about on forums. In the past, you had to bolt out of the jet bridge like a rocket and vaguely show your boarding pass to an attendant before sprinting. But now it’s institutionalized, and there’s signage that spares you from running all the way to the main security check. Until recently—at least the last time I did this—it even let you skip all formalities, dropping you like a wild dog into the departures area, which is spacious enough to stretch your legs!

A heads-up for the young and the not-so-young: even without the bypass, if you’re under 5 (accompanied), over 65 (alone), you get fast track. That saves you a few hundred meters and possibly some waiting time, though I’m less sure about that. The entrance honestly looks like an amusement park, though.

So, not young enough, not old enough, I keep going. I pass by dozens of passport control booths (in blue) and reach the transfer security checkpoint (in red). There’s a fast track for Business and Gold passengers—in my case, I’m both—but since it’s at the wrong end for my direction, it wouldn’t even be worth it. It’d just be a frivolous sprint. None of this is crowded at all; the wait lasted about a minute. You have to take out your laptop at this checkpoint—not all of them—but you haven’t had to take out liquids for a while in Istanbul. A hallway, an escalator, and then—bam—you’re in the Dubai-esque hall. One look says it all. Everything sparkles, everything’s expensive. *Very* expensive. Just for show, I spot a sandwich for around 12 €, and some simits for about 4 € (it’s in TL, but that’s roughly the conversion).

So, I head to the lounge—or one of the lounges—at Turkish Airlines, upstairs. Here too, there’s a priority entrance for families and people with reduced mobility, and an extra hundred meters for everyone else. A few of us seem to have had the same idea, and the twin lounges are under renovation for three months. One is for Business Class passengers, the other for Miles & Smiles and Gold members. They’re nearly identical. Needless to say, it’s packed—just as crowded in one as the other. There are *tons* of Business Class passengers on Turkish Airlines. I assume some other airlines’ passengers are mixed in, but not enough to explain the crowd. It’s as busy as Gare Montparnasse on a holiday departure day, and the 5 or 6 food counters, along with the salad and dessert buffets, are struggling to keep up. I didn’t dare ask to access the shower area, but I’ll admit the Wi-Fi works without the torturous maneuvers it required just a few months ago. Later, I’ll have to watch for the gate for my destination—Warsaw. With my usual luck, it’ll be in the F double-digits, the farthest ones, listed as 15 to 19 minutes away. That said, once you reach the end of that dead end, there’s plenty of quiet space with power outlets. Because here, there’s high demand for kilowatts.
My reporter’s conscience doesn’t go so far as to guide me here—I’ve covered the free access up to the iGA lounge, which has a good reputation but costs nearly 100 € for three hours. Maybe another time, on a promo day—I’ll keep an eye on their site. The piano starts playing “Bésame Mucho,” so I’ll pause my story here.

Michel
Since it’s a hot topic, yet rarely shown, and since there’s quite a bit of criticism and prejudice around it—and since I’ve had three in ten days—I’m going to talk about layovers at Istanbul Airport, especially with Turkish Airlines. This is a common scenario for forum members planning trips to Central Asia, the Caucasus, but also Japan, China, Australia, Africa, and more.
It all starts on a plane beginning its descent, knowing that the approach to Istanbul Airport is always quite long—about thirty minutes. Through the windows, if you’re lucky, you get a view of the city. You need to know a little to get your bearings, but here we’re on the side of Sabiha Gökçen Airport, south of Istanbul on the Asian side. You can spot the Bosphorus, the Golden Horn, and Fenerbahçe’s football stadium.

Landing over highways with three times four lanes, and then the airport tarmac for the taxi phase. This can take a while—sometimes nearly half an hour—but this morning, luck was on my side: barely more than 10 minutes. It’s rare now for Turkish Airlines planes to unload via pax buses, so we got a jet bridge. Avgeeks will immediately notice they’re not in Europe anymore but in another world: Pobeda, Belavia, and plenty of more exotic airlines. As the captain seriously put it in his final announcement after thanking the kids, it’s the “crossroads of the world.”
We suddenly step into a massive corridor, an endless, bright hall, usually deserted, and turn left or right—I think it’s always left for the flights I take, heading toward “transfers.” The walk is supposed to take a good ten minutes at worst. Watch out for airport vehicles—they come fast and don’t honk.

Here’s where it gets interesting: Istanbul has always had a bypass for short layovers, something you never hear about on forums. In the past, you had to bolt out of the jet bridge like a rocket and vaguely show your boarding pass to an attendant before sprinting. But now it’s institutionalized, and there’s signage that spares you from running all the way to the main security check. Until recently—at least the last time I did this—it even let you skip all formalities, dropping you like a wild dog into the departures area, which is spacious enough to stretch your legs!

A heads-up for the young and the not-so-young: even without the bypass, if you’re under 5 (accompanied), over 65 (alone), you get fast track. That saves you a few hundred meters and possibly some waiting time, though I’m less sure about that. The entrance honestly looks like an amusement park, though.

So, not young enough, not old enough, I keep going. I pass by dozens of passport control booths (in blue) and reach the transfer security checkpoint (in red). There’s a fast track for Business and Gold passengers—in my case, I’m both—but since it’s at the wrong end for my direction, it wouldn’t even be worth it. It’d just be a frivolous sprint. None of this is crowded at all; the wait lasted about a minute. You have to take out your laptop at this checkpoint—not all of them—but you haven’t had to take out liquids for a while in Istanbul. A hallway, an escalator, and then—bam—you’re in the Dubai-esque hall. One look says it all. Everything sparkles, everything’s expensive. *Very* expensive. Just for show, I spot a sandwich for around 12 €, and some simits for about 4 € (it’s in TL, but that’s roughly the conversion).

So, I head to the lounge—or one of the lounges—at Turkish Airlines, upstairs. Here too, there’s a priority entrance for families and people with reduced mobility, and an extra hundred meters for everyone else. A few of us seem to have had the same idea, and the twin lounges are under renovation for three months. One is for Business Class passengers, the other for Miles & Smiles and Gold members. They’re nearly identical. Needless to say, it’s packed—just as crowded in one as the other. There are *tons* of Business Class passengers on Turkish Airlines. I assume some other airlines’ passengers are mixed in, but not enough to explain the crowd. It’s as busy as Gare Montparnasse on a holiday departure day, and the 5 or 6 food counters, along with the salad and dessert buffets, are struggling to keep up. I didn’t dare ask to access the shower area, but I’ll admit the Wi-Fi works without the torturous maneuvers it required just a few months ago. Later, I’ll have to watch for the gate for my destination—Warsaw. With my usual luck, it’ll be in the F double-digits, the farthest ones, listed as 15 to 19 minutes away. That said, once you reach the end of that dead end, there’s plenty of quiet space with power outlets. Because here, there’s high demand for kilowatts.
My reporter’s conscience doesn’t go so far as to guide me here—I’ve covered the free access up to the iGA lounge, which has a good reputation but costs nearly 100 € for three hours. Maybe another time, on a promo day—I’ll keep an eye on their site. The piano starts playing “Bésame Mucho,” so I’ll pause my story here.

Michel
Hi everyone,
Your thoughts on SIM cards and eSIMs for Rajasthan?
I have a Free mobile plan for 19.99 € that includes internet but not calls.
Can I use WhatsApp to contact people in France without extra charges?
Or should I buy a local SIM?
What about eSIMs?
Your opinions, recommendations, warnings... Thanks
Fellow travelers,
Don’t they say "never two without three"? It seems so. Here I am again on the forum to share—and let’s be honest, indulge a bit of selfish pleasure—by recounting the story of this third installment in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Where? It’s all in the title. On the island of Kyushu in southern Japan, more precisely in the northwest between Fukuoka and Nagasaki. I hope to take you along with me for 19 nights and 18 full days this autumn of 2024. On the itinerary: gastronomy, crafts, festivals, waterfalls, encounters, and leisurely strolls in all simplicity.
A last-minute flight booked just 7 days before departure, and the route evolved regularly based on whims and accommodation availability, eventually settling on this:
- 5 nights in Fukuoka: Fukuoka city, Ukiha, Itoshima, Dazaifu, Yanagawa - 4 nights in Hasami, Nagasaki Prefecture: Okawachiyama, Arita, Takeo, Kashima, Yobuko, Karatsu, Kabeshima - 6 nights in Nagasaki: Ureshino, Higashi-Sonogi, Nagasaki city, Unzen, Sotome - 4 nights in Fukuoka: Karatsu, Fukuoka city
Most of the trip was done by car for practical reasons—easier access to certain places and freedom of movement—but also for the sheer joy of it. Despite slow traffic at times, driving in rural Japan is a delight.
If the program interests you, see you soon for the start of the journey.
Don’t they say "never two without three"? It seems so. Here I am again on the forum to share—and let’s be honest, indulge a bit of selfish pleasure—by recounting the story of this third installment in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Where? It’s all in the title. On the island of Kyushu in southern Japan, more precisely in the northwest between Fukuoka and Nagasaki. I hope to take you along with me for 19 nights and 18 full days this autumn of 2024. On the itinerary: gastronomy, crafts, festivals, waterfalls, encounters, and leisurely strolls in all simplicity.
A last-minute flight booked just 7 days before departure, and the route evolved regularly based on whims and accommodation availability, eventually settling on this:
- 5 nights in Fukuoka: Fukuoka city, Ukiha, Itoshima, Dazaifu, Yanagawa - 4 nights in Hasami, Nagasaki Prefecture: Okawachiyama, Arita, Takeo, Kashima, Yobuko, Karatsu, Kabeshima - 6 nights in Nagasaki: Ureshino, Higashi-Sonogi, Nagasaki city, Unzen, Sotome - 4 nights in Fukuoka: Karatsu, Fukuoka city
Most of the trip was done by car for practical reasons—easier access to certain places and freedom of movement—but also for the sheer joy of it. Despite slow traffic at times, driving in rural Japan is a delight.
If the program interests you, see you soon for the start of the journey.
As soon as I return to France, I catch myself thinking, "it’s better elsewhere."
Wherever we’ve been, I feel this lightness of living—less restriction, less pressure, less sadness—and I start dreaming of somewhere else, of living somewhere else, a simpler life, more authentic, with colors everywhere: markets, clothes, homes...!!! Meeting kindred spirits, genuine people, gentle and kind, and letting go of all this modernism, this technological rat race, the indifference toward others, the confinement, the racism against the elderly in France, against the poor, the weak, the beautiful... fleeing the news, politics, jealousy, meanness, stupidity, greed... And in my moments of clarity, I tell myself that every country, every city has its pros and cons, and that maybe the best of all worlds isn’t down here. But I also remind myself that you have to know how to COME BACK in order to LEAVE again... yet still...!!! IS IT REALLY BETTER ELSEWHERE?😏😏😏
Autumn 2025 marks my 11th trip to Japan. I’ve neglected the south for too long, so like last year, it’s my main destination again.
We’ll revisit some familiar spots, but of course, we’ll also try plenty of new things. This trip feels a bit strange—no more of that initial magic, but on the other hand, we’ve really explored some off-the-beaten-path and private locations. The variety of regions, landscapes, and vehicles I’ve photographed is pretty remarkable. In search of vintage trains and threatened lines, I think my future trips will follow the same vibe.
After the 2017 and 2024 travel journals, it’s time to dive into Japan’s lesser-known side—all by public transport, of course. Day 1, arrival in Tokyo
The timing won’t be like other years since we arrive at Narita in the mid-afternoon after a layover in Hong Kong.
The only real mission for this afternoon is picking up tickets for the next day. And already, the first travel stress: I’ll have to rewrite the entire day because the Revaty Kinu 109 to Kinugawaonsen is fully booked, just like all the morning trains. So instead of a relaxed start exploring Ueno, I’m back to scrutinizing schedules. I manage to snag something last-minute after struggling for hours. Then, I wait for a message from Seiichi to meet up for dinner. Meeting friends on the first day and staying up late with jet lag—like I said, this trip isn’t like the others.
A great evening at a place I love.




We’ll revisit some familiar spots, but of course, we’ll also try plenty of new things. This trip feels a bit strange—no more of that initial magic, but on the other hand, we’ve really explored some off-the-beaten-path and private locations. The variety of regions, landscapes, and vehicles I’ve photographed is pretty remarkable. In search of vintage trains and threatened lines, I think my future trips will follow the same vibe.
After the 2017 and 2024 travel journals, it’s time to dive into Japan’s lesser-known side—all by public transport, of course. Day 1, arrival in Tokyo
The timing won’t be like other years since we arrive at Narita in the mid-afternoon after a layover in Hong Kong.
The only real mission for this afternoon is picking up tickets for the next day. And already, the first travel stress: I’ll have to rewrite the entire day because the Revaty Kinu 109 to Kinugawaonsen is fully booked, just like all the morning trains. So instead of a relaxed start exploring Ueno, I’m back to scrutinizing schedules. I manage to snag something last-minute after struggling for hours. Then, I wait for a message from Seiichi to meet up for dinner. Meeting friends on the first day and staying up late with jet lag—like I said, this trip isn’t like the others.
A great evening at a place I love.





Hi there,
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected. Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel. I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability. So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog: From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
Happy reading, and safe travels!
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected. Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel. I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability. So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog: From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
Happy reading, and safe travels!
Hi there, I’ve been traveling for 18 years now, at least 6 months a year, and as the years go by, I actually enjoy coming back to France more and more—a feeling I struggled with at first. I mean, we always think the grass is greener elsewhere.
But in the end, I find meaning in that saying about how there’s no place like home. I still love traveling just as much, but now my trips are shorter, and I enjoy spending more time in our beautiful country, even though I don’t hesitate to criticize it.
How about you? How do you handle coming back from your travels?
Hi there,
I just booked a round-trip flight from Brussels to Da Nang on eDreams, with a layover in Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific. Does anyone know the check-in procedure for these flights?
1) For flight CX294 BXL-HKG, I’ll need to check in on the Cathay Pacific website,
2) For the next flight CX5552 HKG-DAD, what should I do? I only have a 2h25 layover. Will I need to collect my luggage, go through immigration, and then recheck in at the airport counter, etc.?
I’m pretty worried about this layover—I thought check-in could be done on the airline’s website and that my luggage would be transferred automatically during the layover, like with most other airlines...
Thanks so much for any help from those who’ve been in this situation!
Hello fellow travelers!
I’m adding my small contribution to the reopening celebration by posting this travel journal from India, made in January 2024. We’re 4 friends (2 couples), and we did a 3-week loop in Rajasthan, stopping by Delhi and Agra (which, as everyone knows, aren’t in Rajasthan 😛). Delhi - Agra - Jaipur - Bundi - Udaipur - Jodhpur - Jaisalmer - Delhi
We rented a car with a driver from Agra to Jaisalmer, 550 € for 14 days. https://chauffeurpriveeninde.com/fr/
We took the train from Delhi to Agra and the plane (Spicejet) from Jaisalmer to Delhi.
Most of the accommodations were booked on Booking before we left.
I’m sharing this story written by Richard and illustrated by me. We dedicate it to Nathalie and Bruno, our amazing travel companions.

I’m adding my small contribution to the reopening celebration by posting this travel journal from India, made in January 2024. We’re 4 friends (2 couples), and we did a 3-week loop in Rajasthan, stopping by Delhi and Agra (which, as everyone knows, aren’t in Rajasthan 😛). Delhi - Agra - Jaipur - Bundi - Udaipur - Jodhpur - Jaisalmer - Delhi
We rented a car with a driver from Agra to Jaisalmer, 550 € for 14 days. https://chauffeurpriveeninde.com/fr/
We took the train from Delhi to Agra and the plane (Spicejet) from Jaisalmer to Delhi.
Most of the accommodations were booked on Booking before we left.
I’m sharing this story written by Richard and illustrated by me. We dedicate it to Nathalie and Bruno, our amazing travel companions.

Valérie (Alexval2) convinced me to publish this travel journal about our trip to Rajasthan, so here I go, sharing what will be my first travel journal! 🙂
But first, why India? This question has already been discussed on the forum. For me, I had these idealized images in mind: maharajahs, palaces, elephants, and friends who gave me glowing reviews. We’ve already been to Asia and wanted to do something different. We weren’t disappointed.
So, after spending what felt like hundreds of hours 😛 researching forums, blogs, and various guides, the Rajasthan region stood out as the perfect choice for a first discovery.
We managed to plan this itinerary, which is quite classic but structured around a must-see: the Pushkar Camel Fair. I’d read reviews and watched videos about it, all very enticing. We’ll see later how it turned out.

As usual, I had everything booked in advance because I don’t like wasting time looking for solutions once we’re there.
Our Air France flight arrived on time at 11:15 PM. We’d read the recommendations, and after collecting our luggage, we headed to the prepaid taxi booth. We got the receipt, and two charming guys took our suitcases to the taxi. When we arrived at the taxi, they asked for 500 INR for the porter service. Of course, I resisted, and with the driver’s help, we settled on 200 INR. Welcome to India.
We agreed with the friendly driver that he’d pick us up from the hotel (Ibis, great breakfast) for our flight to Jaisalmer. It was 2 AM, we collapsed into bed, but the night was short since we had to wake up at 5 AM.
But first, why India? This question has already been discussed on the forum. For me, I had these idealized images in mind: maharajahs, palaces, elephants, and friends who gave me glowing reviews. We’ve already been to Asia and wanted to do something different. We weren’t disappointed.
So, after spending what felt like hundreds of hours 😛 researching forums, blogs, and various guides, the Rajasthan region stood out as the perfect choice for a first discovery.
We managed to plan this itinerary, which is quite classic but structured around a must-see: the Pushkar Camel Fair. I’d read reviews and watched videos about it, all very enticing. We’ll see later how it turned out.

As usual, I had everything booked in advance because I don’t like wasting time looking for solutions once we’re there.
Our Air France flight arrived on time at 11:15 PM. We’d read the recommendations, and after collecting our luggage, we headed to the prepaid taxi booth. We got the receipt, and two charming guys took our suitcases to the taxi. When we arrived at the taxi, they asked for 500 INR for the porter service. Of course, I resisted, and with the driver’s help, we settled on 200 INR. Welcome to India.
We agreed with the friendly driver that he’d pick us up from the hotel (Ibis, great breakfast) for our flight to Jaisalmer. It was 2 AM, we collapsed into bed, but the night was short since we had to wake up at 5 AM.
Here are some tips from our 6-week trip (summer 2026) to China, Vietnam, and Cambodia. We traveled as a family of four with two kids aged 15 and 12.
I hope these notes help other travelers!
CHINA General You’ll need to download and set up a few apps: - Alipay and WeChat for payments (I didn’t withdraw a single bill the entire trip) - Didi for taxis - Amap = Chinese Maps (works great, especially for subways) - A translation app (we used Papago, but it sometimes gave weird results) - Google Lens for translating menus or signs—super handy. - HelloRide for bikes - Gemini and ChatGPT for everything: understanding daily life, enhancing visits, checking the weather, finding things. - HomeExchange if you want to lower travel costs (few listings in Asia except in big cities, often expats) - Trip.com is very useful, even essential, for trains, domestic flights, and hotels. Like Booking.com, the more you book with them, the more perks you get. So I’d even suggest checking flight tickets on this site, even if it’s a bit pricier. However, buying train tickets is complicated because (1) they only open 15 days in advance, and (2) they sell out fast. Trip.com just promises to buy them as soon as they’re available but doesn’t always succeed. It’s stressful and might force you to change your plans, especially if you’re aiming for a sleeper car and there are no seats left. Watch out for station names—many cities have multiple stations, including a high-speed rail one outside the city. For internet, we got the Asia plan from Holafly. It worked but seemed much slower than Chinese internet. I regretted not buying a Chinese SIM card because without internet in China, everything is VERY complicated (money, transport, etc.).
For the firewall, we used ExpressVPN, but it wasn’t always reliable. A bit disappointing. Ask ChatGPT for tips with screenshots to improve the settings.
Since we only had one SIM card with internet, we couldn’t rent shared bikes. If I were to do it again, I’d get a SIM for each person, even the kids, because distances in cities are huge. We walked *a lot*. Same goes for buses—it’s tricky with just one internet connection. Better to have a phone per person with internet. Book your visits as far in advance as possible—they often sell out. Watch out for power banks: if they don’t explicitly say "3C," they’ll confiscate it. Even if there’s a little airplane logo.
Shanghai In the evening, the streets leading to the Bund from the metro were so crowded that police were out in force blocking roads. Arrive early. We went around the north side.
Suzhou Be careful—there are two stations (common in China), and the high-speed rail one is 45–50 minutes from the old town. The Humble Administrator’s Garden was *packed*—we don’t recommend it. It turned into a marathon day from Shanghai (almost 4 hours from our hotel to the garden).
Beijing Forbidden City: Don’t go—I know it’s a shame, but it’s too crowded. I couldn’t buy tickets on the official site because of the kids’ passports. We ended up with a guided tour, the only way to get in (tickets sell out fast). The visit was disappointing—bad guide *and* massive crowds. You’ll queue a lot to enter and see certain areas. You’ll be checked often, so pack your bags carefully. Great Wall at Mutianyu: Crowded. Two hours by bus, and even though we arrived early, people were already leaving! I really think the best option is to leave your big bags in Beijing and stay overnight near the Wall. That way, you’ll have it to yourself a bit more. For transport: get off at Tiananmen Square metro and look for buses with official guides in bright yellow-green vests. No need to buy tickets online—they made me cancel mine to rebook on the spot. Buses leave when full. Note: the cable car and chairlift are separate—if you want to go up one side and down the other, you’ll need different tickets. The endless queue for the toboggan ride put us off. Quick tip: Incredible swimming spot in Beijing—on the north shore of Houhai Lake, you can swim by crossing the barrier. We did it twice with about ten other people. Bring a swimsuit!
Shapotou Desert Amazing, but it gets *very* hot in the afternoon. We had a tent (not an air-conditioned bungalow), which was unbearable during the day. We hung out in the restaurant. The paid activities are fun, except the camels—they look sad. The real highlight is the evening and sunset. The only downside: you can’t explore the desert alone or far—they don’t rent 4x4s, for example. We stayed at "The Desert Camping Hotel of the Proprietress of Shapotou." They were lovely.
Zhongwei Gaomiao Temple and its underground: Fun and short—you’ll see quirky Buddhist hell paintings.
Xi’an Terracotta Army: We took a Didi because for four people, a car was almost the same price as four shuttle tickets. It was packed—chaotic to see properly. We visited the halls in order: 3, 2, then 1—a good choice. Hua Shan Mountains: Left before sunrise to arrive when the ticket office opened (7 AM, I think). We were shocked to see so many people already coming down. 45 minutes by bus to the west cable car, then 15 minutes up. We did the west, south, east, central, then north peaks (in that order) before taking the other cable car down (you can buy the ticket at the top). A beautiful day. In the city, check out...
Chengdu Panda Research Center: Like Hua Shan, plan to arrive when the ticket office opens. Already *tons* of people, and it moves fast to see the big pandas before their nap. Have them drop you at the west entrance (not south), or you’ll have to walk uphill. Leshan Giant Buddha: Interesting. The trip is a bit long (metro, then train, then city bus, then shuttle on-site). We didn’t take the boat option but walked. In the end, you only spend a few minutes at the Buddha’s feet, but it’s a nice day out. Hotel tip: Panda Enjoy Home Hotel Apartments (Chengdu East Railway Station Dongda Road Branch). The view is insane, and the neighborhood is super convenient and nice. 646 CNY for 2 nights. Swimming: The municipal pool is an interesting experience, but don’t expect to swim—no one does. Everyone just splashes around where they can stand. The hours are a bit odd, with a break in the late afternoon.
Kunming The bike path along Dian Lake is pretty and often well-protected from cars. But like everywhere in China, it’s *packed*. Not much to say about visits—the flower market is a wholesale market, not very interesting. The ethnic minorities museum closed right in front of us. All the big malls are good for shopping.
Dali We thought we could bike around the lake in two days. Wrong on two counts: First, the lake’s edge is blocked to traffic and reserved for bikes (or tourist mini-buses). So you’re stuck on the main road, which never gives you a view of the lake, with all the trucks and cars. Doing 120 km like that wouldn’t make sense, in our opinion. The rice fields around are nice but not as impressive as elsewhere, so Dali isn’t worth it for that. The old town, all restored, is pretty but *packed*—thousands of people, especially in the evening.
Hekou (Vietnam border) Comfortable train from Kunming. In the parking lot, a bus (not well-marked, but Didi is an option) takes you to the border in 15–20 minutes. Short wait at both border posts. Fun to see the two lampposts near the border line: the Chinese one is new, modern, with a surveillance camera (of course), while the Vietnamese one is old and a bit rusty.
VIETNAM General: - You’ll need the Grab app for taxis - Very disappointed with 12Go—it doesn’t show all buses, never connects you with the company, and refuses refunds. Try booking directly with companies like FUTA Bus instead. - Credit cards are often accepted (supermarkets and modern stores), otherwise, you’ll need cash
Lao Cai 2 km between the border and the train station. The sleeper bus to Hanoi with Sao Viet is well-organized—it works.
Hanoi Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum closes early (10:30 AM, I think). Women’s Museum: Very good, not too long Temple of Literature: Beautiful, fairly quick This is where you should buy souvenirs, clothes, and knockoffs—the prices are reasonable, and the sellers are nicer than elsewhere. We recommend Cho Dong Xuan.
Tu Long Bay We did 2 days, 1 night (so really 24 hours on the boat) with Parfum d’Automne (French-speaking agency), which put us on a Cycad Cruise boat. Cost: 300 € per person—expensive, but it was amazing, super luxurious, and the buffet meals were delicious. We don’t regret the splurge. The only downside: no swimming in the bay (but there’s a pool on the boat). To swim, you’d need a 3-day, 2-night trip to an area not protected by the maritime park.
Phong Nha If you didn’t do the northern mountains due to time or weather (like us), Phong Nha is a great stop for a motorbike ride. It’s beautiful, especially the mountains west of the city toward the caves. There are two (small) swimming spots at the Botanic Garden—a pleasant 45-minute walk without stops. Hotel tip: Sunbeam Village (very friendly, pool, breakfast by the river, motorbike rentals)
Da Nang Hotel tip: Meridians by Hsuite—you’ll have the beach almost to yourself. You’ll still need to walk 15–20 minutes to the hyper-touristy area if you want to rent surfboards (150–200k VND per hour). The beach is beautiful, and the water is 30°C—great for a break on a long trip, especially since all transport goes through Da Nang.
Hoi An 45 minutes from Da Nang, so it’s easy to visit in a day, especially since the city isn’t that big and it’s *very* hot. Cooking class: MS Hanh cooking class—great (the market tour is a bit useless). We don’t recommend the "basket boat" tour—it’s a bit sad on a big brown pond with elderly guides.
Ho Chi Minh City Ben Thanh Market is a nightmare: starting prices are exorbitant, and the vendors are aggressive. Don’t go. The War Remnants Museum can be really tough for kids.
Can Tho Avoid this city. We made the mistake of going to see the floating market—don’t.
Chau Doc No Grab in the city, but regular taxis. One day is enough if you go early to the forest and the mountain in the late afternoon. 250k VND per person for the forest and its canals (45 minutes by motorbike) The sunset at Victoria Nui Sam can be magnificent if the clouds cooperate. Cheap and good restaurant: Quan Nem Nuong Sau Hiep Hotel tip: Homestay Khoa (2,250,000 VND for 3 nights)—adorable hostess, full of tips, clean rooms.
The speedboat to Cambodia is more comfortable than a bus. Book with Hangchau a few days in advance—payment in cash on the day (1,640,000 đ).
CAMBODIA General: - Issues with the "Bakong Tourists" app—we had to go to a big bank to load money onto it. We barely used it afterward.
Phnom Penh For us, a day and a half is enough if you want to spend more time elsewhere. Markets close early (around 6 PM) and are less interesting than in Hanoi, for example. The Royal Palace has a break from 11 AM to 2 PM, but there aren’t many people in the afternoon.
Siem Reap Trip with Capitol company—the bus is basic but cheap. Departs at 10:15 AM, 7-hour ride. Angkor entrance fee: 62 USD per person for a 3-day pass. Tickets are picked up at Angkor Enterprise. Renting two 125cc motorbikes: 10 USD each, plus 7 USD for gas. By bike, it took me 25 minutes to reach Angkor Wat’s pools. A basic city bike rental was 1 USD per hour. Short circuit by motorbike (in reverse): 7 hours with stops everywhere. Grand tour by tuk-tuk: Only 5 temples, 4.5 hours. If you want to see lots of monkeys, they’re grouped west of Bayon. For the temples, we asked Gemini (AI) at each stop to point out details that might interest kids (who can get bored with the repetition). It gave fun facts and things to look for—great for the little ones. Hotel tip: The Five Senses, run by a Frenchman, Bruno, who knows Cambodia inside out and organizes tours. Restaurant tip: Wild (only spring rolls, but *so* many varieties—delicious and cheap) Watch out: 1 hour to the airport, 50 km from the city. Show tip: The Phare Circus
CHINA General You’ll need to download and set up a few apps: - Alipay and WeChat for payments (I didn’t withdraw a single bill the entire trip) - Didi for taxis - Amap = Chinese Maps (works great, especially for subways) - A translation app (we used Papago, but it sometimes gave weird results) - Google Lens for translating menus or signs—super handy. - HelloRide for bikes - Gemini and ChatGPT for everything: understanding daily life, enhancing visits, checking the weather, finding things. - HomeExchange if you want to lower travel costs (few listings in Asia except in big cities, often expats) - Trip.com is very useful, even essential, for trains, domestic flights, and hotels. Like Booking.com, the more you book with them, the more perks you get. So I’d even suggest checking flight tickets on this site, even if it’s a bit pricier. However, buying train tickets is complicated because (1) they only open 15 days in advance, and (2) they sell out fast. Trip.com just promises to buy them as soon as they’re available but doesn’t always succeed. It’s stressful and might force you to change your plans, especially if you’re aiming for a sleeper car and there are no seats left. Watch out for station names—many cities have multiple stations, including a high-speed rail one outside the city. For internet, we got the Asia plan from Holafly. It worked but seemed much slower than Chinese internet. I regretted not buying a Chinese SIM card because without internet in China, everything is VERY complicated (money, transport, etc.).
For the firewall, we used ExpressVPN, but it wasn’t always reliable. A bit disappointing. Ask ChatGPT for tips with screenshots to improve the settings.
Since we only had one SIM card with internet, we couldn’t rent shared bikes. If I were to do it again, I’d get a SIM for each person, even the kids, because distances in cities are huge. We walked *a lot*. Same goes for buses—it’s tricky with just one internet connection. Better to have a phone per person with internet. Book your visits as far in advance as possible—they often sell out. Watch out for power banks: if they don’t explicitly say "3C," they’ll confiscate it. Even if there’s a little airplane logo.
Shanghai In the evening, the streets leading to the Bund from the metro were so crowded that police were out in force blocking roads. Arrive early. We went around the north side.
Suzhou Be careful—there are two stations (common in China), and the high-speed rail one is 45–50 minutes from the old town. The Humble Administrator’s Garden was *packed*—we don’t recommend it. It turned into a marathon day from Shanghai (almost 4 hours from our hotel to the garden).
Beijing Forbidden City: Don’t go—I know it’s a shame, but it’s too crowded. I couldn’t buy tickets on the official site because of the kids’ passports. We ended up with a guided tour, the only way to get in (tickets sell out fast). The visit was disappointing—bad guide *and* massive crowds. You’ll queue a lot to enter and see certain areas. You’ll be checked often, so pack your bags carefully. Great Wall at Mutianyu: Crowded. Two hours by bus, and even though we arrived early, people were already leaving! I really think the best option is to leave your big bags in Beijing and stay overnight near the Wall. That way, you’ll have it to yourself a bit more. For transport: get off at Tiananmen Square metro and look for buses with official guides in bright yellow-green vests. No need to buy tickets online—they made me cancel mine to rebook on the spot. Buses leave when full. Note: the cable car and chairlift are separate—if you want to go up one side and down the other, you’ll need different tickets. The endless queue for the toboggan ride put us off. Quick tip: Incredible swimming spot in Beijing—on the north shore of Houhai Lake, you can swim by crossing the barrier. We did it twice with about ten other people. Bring a swimsuit!
Shapotou Desert Amazing, but it gets *very* hot in the afternoon. We had a tent (not an air-conditioned bungalow), which was unbearable during the day. We hung out in the restaurant. The paid activities are fun, except the camels—they look sad. The real highlight is the evening and sunset. The only downside: you can’t explore the desert alone or far—they don’t rent 4x4s, for example. We stayed at "The Desert Camping Hotel of the Proprietress of Shapotou." They were lovely.
Zhongwei Gaomiao Temple and its underground: Fun and short—you’ll see quirky Buddhist hell paintings.
Xi’an Terracotta Army: We took a Didi because for four people, a car was almost the same price as four shuttle tickets. It was packed—chaotic to see properly. We visited the halls in order: 3, 2, then 1—a good choice. Hua Shan Mountains: Left before sunrise to arrive when the ticket office opened (7 AM, I think). We were shocked to see so many people already coming down. 45 minutes by bus to the west cable car, then 15 minutes up. We did the west, south, east, central, then north peaks (in that order) before taking the other cable car down (you can buy the ticket at the top). A beautiful day. In the city, check out...
Chengdu Panda Research Center: Like Hua Shan, plan to arrive when the ticket office opens. Already *tons* of people, and it moves fast to see the big pandas before their nap. Have them drop you at the west entrance (not south), or you’ll have to walk uphill. Leshan Giant Buddha: Interesting. The trip is a bit long (metro, then train, then city bus, then shuttle on-site). We didn’t take the boat option but walked. In the end, you only spend a few minutes at the Buddha’s feet, but it’s a nice day out. Hotel tip: Panda Enjoy Home Hotel Apartments (Chengdu East Railway Station Dongda Road Branch). The view is insane, and the neighborhood is super convenient and nice. 646 CNY for 2 nights. Swimming: The municipal pool is an interesting experience, but don’t expect to swim—no one does. Everyone just splashes around where they can stand. The hours are a bit odd, with a break in the late afternoon.
Kunming The bike path along Dian Lake is pretty and often well-protected from cars. But like everywhere in China, it’s *packed*. Not much to say about visits—the flower market is a wholesale market, not very interesting. The ethnic minorities museum closed right in front of us. All the big malls are good for shopping.
Dali We thought we could bike around the lake in two days. Wrong on two counts: First, the lake’s edge is blocked to traffic and reserved for bikes (or tourist mini-buses). So you’re stuck on the main road, which never gives you a view of the lake, with all the trucks and cars. Doing 120 km like that wouldn’t make sense, in our opinion. The rice fields around are nice but not as impressive as elsewhere, so Dali isn’t worth it for that. The old town, all restored, is pretty but *packed*—thousands of people, especially in the evening.
Hekou (Vietnam border) Comfortable train from Kunming. In the parking lot, a bus (not well-marked, but Didi is an option) takes you to the border in 15–20 minutes. Short wait at both border posts. Fun to see the two lampposts near the border line: the Chinese one is new, modern, with a surveillance camera (of course), while the Vietnamese one is old and a bit rusty.
VIETNAM General: - You’ll need the Grab app for taxis - Very disappointed with 12Go—it doesn’t show all buses, never connects you with the company, and refuses refunds. Try booking directly with companies like FUTA Bus instead. - Credit cards are often accepted (supermarkets and modern stores), otherwise, you’ll need cash
Lao Cai 2 km between the border and the train station. The sleeper bus to Hanoi with Sao Viet is well-organized—it works.
Hanoi Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum closes early (10:30 AM, I think). Women’s Museum: Very good, not too long Temple of Literature: Beautiful, fairly quick This is where you should buy souvenirs, clothes, and knockoffs—the prices are reasonable, and the sellers are nicer than elsewhere. We recommend Cho Dong Xuan.
Tu Long Bay We did 2 days, 1 night (so really 24 hours on the boat) with Parfum d’Automne (French-speaking agency), which put us on a Cycad Cruise boat. Cost: 300 € per person—expensive, but it was amazing, super luxurious, and the buffet meals were delicious. We don’t regret the splurge. The only downside: no swimming in the bay (but there’s a pool on the boat). To swim, you’d need a 3-day, 2-night trip to an area not protected by the maritime park.
Phong Nha If you didn’t do the northern mountains due to time or weather (like us), Phong Nha is a great stop for a motorbike ride. It’s beautiful, especially the mountains west of the city toward the caves. There are two (small) swimming spots at the Botanic Garden—a pleasant 45-minute walk without stops. Hotel tip: Sunbeam Village (very friendly, pool, breakfast by the river, motorbike rentals)
Da Nang Hotel tip: Meridians by Hsuite—you’ll have the beach almost to yourself. You’ll still need to walk 15–20 minutes to the hyper-touristy area if you want to rent surfboards (150–200k VND per hour). The beach is beautiful, and the water is 30°C—great for a break on a long trip, especially since all transport goes through Da Nang.
Hoi An 45 minutes from Da Nang, so it’s easy to visit in a day, especially since the city isn’t that big and it’s *very* hot. Cooking class: MS Hanh cooking class—great (the market tour is a bit useless). We don’t recommend the "basket boat" tour—it’s a bit sad on a big brown pond with elderly guides.
Ho Chi Minh City Ben Thanh Market is a nightmare: starting prices are exorbitant, and the vendors are aggressive. Don’t go. The War Remnants Museum can be really tough for kids.
Can Tho Avoid this city. We made the mistake of going to see the floating market—don’t.
Chau Doc No Grab in the city, but regular taxis. One day is enough if you go early to the forest and the mountain in the late afternoon. 250k VND per person for the forest and its canals (45 minutes by motorbike) The sunset at Victoria Nui Sam can be magnificent if the clouds cooperate. Cheap and good restaurant: Quan Nem Nuong Sau Hiep Hotel tip: Homestay Khoa (2,250,000 VND for 3 nights)—adorable hostess, full of tips, clean rooms.
The speedboat to Cambodia is more comfortable than a bus. Book with Hangchau a few days in advance—payment in cash on the day (1,640,000 đ).
CAMBODIA General: - Issues with the "Bakong Tourists" app—we had to go to a big bank to load money onto it. We barely used it afterward.
Phnom Penh For us, a day and a half is enough if you want to spend more time elsewhere. Markets close early (around 6 PM) and are less interesting than in Hanoi, for example. The Royal Palace has a break from 11 AM to 2 PM, but there aren’t many people in the afternoon.
Siem Reap Trip with Capitol company—the bus is basic but cheap. Departs at 10:15 AM, 7-hour ride. Angkor entrance fee: 62 USD per person for a 3-day pass. Tickets are picked up at Angkor Enterprise. Renting two 125cc motorbikes: 10 USD each, plus 7 USD for gas. By bike, it took me 25 minutes to reach Angkor Wat’s pools. A basic city bike rental was 1 USD per hour. Short circuit by motorbike (in reverse): 7 hours with stops everywhere. Grand tour by tuk-tuk: Only 5 temples, 4.5 hours. If you want to see lots of monkeys, they’re grouped west of Bayon. For the temples, we asked Gemini (AI) at each stop to point out details that might interest kids (who can get bored with the repetition). It gave fun facts and things to look for—great for the little ones. Hotel tip: The Five Senses, run by a Frenchman, Bruno, who knows Cambodia inside out and organizes tours. Restaurant tip: Wild (only spring rolls, but *so* many varieties—delicious and cheap) Watch out: 1 hour to the airport, 50 km from the city. Show tip: The Phare Circus
Introduction:
For years, I’ve heard about Costa Rica, which seems like a country "made for me"—nature, not cities.
I almost went in 2019, but a family issue made me cancel.
Initially, I wanted to spend at least three weeks there, planning to go in our summer despite it being the rainy season. Then I realized what I wanted to do could fit into two weeks, so I ended up going in February.
Plus, January’s weather was so awful that some sunshine should do me good.
I found a flight at a decent price, but with two downsides.
The first is that it leaves from Paris CDG, and the second is that it’s with Air France—a airline I’d sworn off after my misadventures with them back in 2008. We’ll see how it goes!
This adventure began during Covid... Yep, Covid turned a lot of things upside down, but most of all, it kept us cooped up for a few months and stopped us from traveling for a while—even longer for a die-hard fan of the American West like me.
While borders were closed, I started imagining what an ideal itinerary might look like—one that would string together all the Southwest must-sees in just two weeks, during the best time of year: September and October. When the U.S. announced in September 2021 that borders would reopen in the coming weeks, I regained hope and began scouting flight tickets for a departure in September 2022.
But here’s the thing: tackling solo hikes, each one tougher than the last, right in the heart of the Wilderness, could be a risky—even reckless—endeavor for a father of three. After a quick chat with some virtual friends who are just as passionate about the Southwest as I am, with good physical condition and nearly the same list of must-visit spots, Franck and his brother Sullivan were in! 🙂
In November, we snagged flight tickets from Nice to San Francisco for the modest sum of 400 €, and a few days later, I booked a Toyota Tacoma pickup for 840 € !
It’s not cheap for just 15 days, and a pickup isn’t exactly ideal for luggage, but the prices for full-size 4x4s have become totally outrageous! Due to border closures, rental companies had to offload a lot of these big 4x4s, which tourists love. Then, supply and demand did the rest !
Franck and I spent the winter and spring trying to cram the equivalent of three weeks of hikes into two. But even with physical limits, we had to stay reasonable! Three to four months before departure, we entered the lotteries for different must-see spots: The Subway, Coyote Buttes North (home to the famous Wave), and Coyote Buttes South (CBS).
The Wave is the holy grail for any Southwest enthusiast. Since 2015, we’ve tried our luck with the online and on-site lotteries about ten times, but the spots are unfortunately limited: just 20 per day. A glimmer of hope, though—since early 2022, that number has increased to 64 people allowed per day, with 48 spots awarded via the online lottery.
After all three of us tried our luck for The Wave, on June 1st at exactly 5 PM, I got an email that started with, "Congratulations! You were successful in the Coyote Buttes North (The Wave) September 2022 Permit Lottery at Coyote Buttes North (The Wave)...". At 5:01 PM, I called Franck, whose dream it’s been for over 20 years—ever since the first photos were published in a travel magazine! He didn’t believe me when I told him, and I had to forward the email for him to finally accept the unbelievable: we were going to The Wave and all the incredible spots scattered across the protected area of Coyote Buttes North.
I’ve already been to Coyote Buttes South twice, but there are areas I couldn’t explore in the middle of summer because they were too remote. So, I had no trouble letting my buddies convince me to go back for a third time. Plus, given how hard it is to access, we had no trouble securing a permit online as long as we logged in at exactly 8 PM on the dot!
For The Subway, all three of us struck out. No big deal—we won at CBN and CBS!
Among the sites to visit, there are two that I’m particularly attached to because I know my chances of wanting to see them again are slim. The first is Angel Arch, one of the most legendary arches in the Southwest, due to its remoteness from any trace of civilization. To get there, the recommended hike is Upper Salt Creek, and you’re looking at a 50 km round-trip in an area with no water (in September) and populated by bears.
The second site is the Hopi Salt Trail, in Navajo land, which, after a very tough hike, lets you marvel at the turquoise-blue waters of the Little Colorado before it meets the Colorado River. The Hopi Salt Trail is, like The Wave, the holy grail for any Southwest enthusiast, and the windows of opportunity to see the water in that magical color are very short each year. For this, you have to monitor the Little Colorado’s gauges downstream from Cameron: if the level stays at its lowest for 10 consecutive days—meaning no rain—you can hope for turquoise water. The ideal period rarely exceeds 30 days a year, and it’s usually in June that all the stars align.
But unfortunately, one month before departure, while the flow rate at Cameron looked promising, several storms in September dashed our hopes of doing the Hopi Salt Trail, even at the end of the road trip.
We still had two consolation prizes, though:
After a last-minute cancellation, while keeping an eye out for available spots for The Subway, it turned out that three spots opened up exactly on the day we’d planned to go—so we rushed to grab them!! Regarding the 4x4 rental, the prices for full-size models dropped by several hundred dollars, and we ended up finding a Chevrolet Tahoe for less than $1000. A steal and a serious boost in comfort, so we could store all our gear and food without worry!
Here’s the initial plan in a perfect world: D1 The White Domes - Camping D2 Sunrise at The White Domes - The Subway D3 Coyote Buttes North D4 Coyote Buttes South - White Pocket D5 Wahweap Hoodoos - Sidestep Canyon - Colourful Canyon - White Rocks - Sunset at Yellow Rock D6 Broken Bow Arch - Reflection Canyon D7 Coyote Gulch D8 The Volcano (or The Oasis - Zebra Slot Canyon if the weather’s good) - North Caineville Mesa D9 The Needles: Squaw Canyon - Lost Canyon combo - Druid Arch - Chesler Park D10 Upper Salt Creek Day 1 - Camping D11 Upper Salt Creek Day 2 D12 Hopi-Navajo Territory: Ha Ho No Geh Canyon, Coal Mine Canyon, Bends of the Little Colorado D13 Grand Canyon: South Kaibab Trail and Bright Angel Trail D14 Upper East Zion: East Temple Loop, Jughandle Arch, Center of the Universe, and Checkerboard Mesa Summit And several backup options in case of bad weather, including Spencer Trail, West Cove, and Buffington Pockets.
Enough talking—time for action!
While borders were closed, I started imagining what an ideal itinerary might look like—one that would string together all the Southwest must-sees in just two weeks, during the best time of year: September and October. When the U.S. announced in September 2021 that borders would reopen in the coming weeks, I regained hope and began scouting flight tickets for a departure in September 2022.
But here’s the thing: tackling solo hikes, each one tougher than the last, right in the heart of the Wilderness, could be a risky—even reckless—endeavor for a father of three. After a quick chat with some virtual friends who are just as passionate about the Southwest as I am, with good physical condition and nearly the same list of must-visit spots, Franck and his brother Sullivan were in! 🙂
In November, we snagged flight tickets from Nice to San Francisco for the modest sum of 400 €, and a few days later, I booked a Toyota Tacoma pickup for 840 € !
It’s not cheap for just 15 days, and a pickup isn’t exactly ideal for luggage, but the prices for full-size 4x4s have become totally outrageous! Due to border closures, rental companies had to offload a lot of these big 4x4s, which tourists love. Then, supply and demand did the rest !
Franck and I spent the winter and spring trying to cram the equivalent of three weeks of hikes into two. But even with physical limits, we had to stay reasonable! Three to four months before departure, we entered the lotteries for different must-see spots: The Subway, Coyote Buttes North (home to the famous Wave), and Coyote Buttes South (CBS).
The Wave is the holy grail for any Southwest enthusiast. Since 2015, we’ve tried our luck with the online and on-site lotteries about ten times, but the spots are unfortunately limited: just 20 per day. A glimmer of hope, though—since early 2022, that number has increased to 64 people allowed per day, with 48 spots awarded via the online lottery.
After all three of us tried our luck for The Wave, on June 1st at exactly 5 PM, I got an email that started with, "Congratulations! You were successful in the Coyote Buttes North (The Wave) September 2022 Permit Lottery at Coyote Buttes North (The Wave)...". At 5:01 PM, I called Franck, whose dream it’s been for over 20 years—ever since the first photos were published in a travel magazine! He didn’t believe me when I told him, and I had to forward the email for him to finally accept the unbelievable: we were going to The Wave and all the incredible spots scattered across the protected area of Coyote Buttes North.
I’ve already been to Coyote Buttes South twice, but there are areas I couldn’t explore in the middle of summer because they were too remote. So, I had no trouble letting my buddies convince me to go back for a third time. Plus, given how hard it is to access, we had no trouble securing a permit online as long as we logged in at exactly 8 PM on the dot!
For The Subway, all three of us struck out. No big deal—we won at CBN and CBS!
Among the sites to visit, there are two that I’m particularly attached to because I know my chances of wanting to see them again are slim. The first is Angel Arch, one of the most legendary arches in the Southwest, due to its remoteness from any trace of civilization. To get there, the recommended hike is Upper Salt Creek, and you’re looking at a 50 km round-trip in an area with no water (in September) and populated by bears.
The second site is the Hopi Salt Trail, in Navajo land, which, after a very tough hike, lets you marvel at the turquoise-blue waters of the Little Colorado before it meets the Colorado River. The Hopi Salt Trail is, like The Wave, the holy grail for any Southwest enthusiast, and the windows of opportunity to see the water in that magical color are very short each year. For this, you have to monitor the Little Colorado’s gauges downstream from Cameron: if the level stays at its lowest for 10 consecutive days—meaning no rain—you can hope for turquoise water. The ideal period rarely exceeds 30 days a year, and it’s usually in June that all the stars align.
But unfortunately, one month before departure, while the flow rate at Cameron looked promising, several storms in September dashed our hopes of doing the Hopi Salt Trail, even at the end of the road trip.
We still had two consolation prizes, though:
After a last-minute cancellation, while keeping an eye out for available spots for The Subway, it turned out that three spots opened up exactly on the day we’d planned to go—so we rushed to grab them!! Regarding the 4x4 rental, the prices for full-size models dropped by several hundred dollars, and we ended up finding a Chevrolet Tahoe for less than $1000. A steal and a serious boost in comfort, so we could store all our gear and food without worry!
Here’s the initial plan in a perfect world: D1 The White Domes - Camping D2 Sunrise at The White Domes - The Subway D3 Coyote Buttes North D4 Coyote Buttes South - White Pocket D5 Wahweap Hoodoos - Sidestep Canyon - Colourful Canyon - White Rocks - Sunset at Yellow Rock D6 Broken Bow Arch - Reflection Canyon D7 Coyote Gulch D8 The Volcano (or The Oasis - Zebra Slot Canyon if the weather’s good) - North Caineville Mesa D9 The Needles: Squaw Canyon - Lost Canyon combo - Druid Arch - Chesler Park D10 Upper Salt Creek Day 1 - Camping D11 Upper Salt Creek Day 2 D12 Hopi-Navajo Territory: Ha Ho No Geh Canyon, Coal Mine Canyon, Bends of the Little Colorado D13 Grand Canyon: South Kaibab Trail and Bright Angel Trail D14 Upper East Zion: East Temple Loop, Jughandle Arch, Center of the Universe, and Checkerboard Mesa Summit And several backup options in case of bad weather, including Spencer Trail, West Cove, and Buffington Pockets.
Enough talking—time for action!
The prime minister has just announced the death of the King of Thailand.
RIP
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima. The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night). For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person). We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express). Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives. After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport. It turned out to be super useful! After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening. Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory). Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:

We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima. The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night). For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person). We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express). Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives. After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport. It turned out to be super useful! After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening. Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory). Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).

It all started last December, after another price alert from Gilou for United/Lufthansa flights at 250 € from Paris to San Francisco. Meanwhile, I was planning to spend a week alone with our three kids (Maxime, 14, Rachel, 12, and Timéo, 8) somewhere in France for the February break.
But this time, Gilou really outdid himself—way too tempting! 😮 His great tip worked for both the February and Easter breaks. I know April is the ideal month, especially if you love hiking! But for family reasons, only February would work for us.
Isn’t February a month to avoid for the Southwest? To keep our summer trip budget intact, I was thinking of camping as much as possible. After checking weather sites for temperature histories in key spots (Furnace Creek, Saint George, Page, Sedona), nighttime temps over the past two years ranged from +5 to -2°C. So, it seemed doable...
I started discussing (aka negotiating, even begging) with my better half. The kids caught on fast that there was a chance we’d go, and they were thrilled! She finally gave her consent to make the kids happy 😎. I quickly checked that our ESTAs were still valid, and 48 hours later, I had the tickets in hand 😎😎. But five days later, Laetitia changed her mind—her "Yes" turned back into a "No." No way were we going without her to her favorite country!!
Damn it 🤪! I had to tell her I’d already bought the four tickets (without bringing it up again, of course—a "Yes" is a "Yes," right?). And since the tickets were non-refundable, there was no going back... Apparently, with women, some "Yeses" mean *really* yes, but others mean, "I said yes in principle, but I wasn’t actually on board—and I never thought you’d have the nerve to buy the tickets without telling me!!" I had no idea 🤪!
Us guys? We’re way more straightforward—binary, even monetary... Yes means yes! And no can mean yes too 😏!! Anyway, in a lovely family atmosphere, I opened a thread to start planning and thanked Trois14 and Bluemesa for their help. On Trois14’s advice, I booked 5 nights in motels around St. George-Page at super tempting rates—around $35-40 a night...
On that note, Christmas cost me an arm and a leg... Gotta try to make up for it 😛!
Here’s the theoretical itinerary:
Death Valley (2 days) Valley of Fire The White Dome (hike up and down via Squirrel Canyon) 4 nights in the Kanab-Page area Sedona (2 days) Route 66 Alabama Hills / Trona Pinnacles Drive back to SFO via Highway 1
That’s the plan, at least...
In reality, it turned into a whole different story. I learned that in February, you’ve got to be flexible—*very* flexible sometimes—to dodge the weather. Halfway through, a cold snap made our second week (planned 100% camping) impossible, completely upending the itinerary.
So, a huge thanks to PapJ59, Noyellebis, and especially Caribou44 and Simonic. 🙂 A thousand thanks for your quick responses, availability, and sound advice, which let us have an original and unforgettable second week—Organ Pipe Cactus NM, Yuma, Salvation Mountain, Anza Borrego SP, a palm grove in Joshua Tree, then back to SFO!! Without you, we’d have been miserable on the spot, but instead... 😇
A big shout-out to Thibaut and his famous blog (rightfully praised on VF—it’s one of the few that details Organ Pipe), to travel journal writers for inspiration in general, and to those who helped me prep or during the trip (journals by Pong, Hiacinthe, Zitounet, and Laetitia).
Now, for the story...
But this time, Gilou really outdid himself—way too tempting! 😮 His great tip worked for both the February and Easter breaks. I know April is the ideal month, especially if you love hiking! But for family reasons, only February would work for us.
Isn’t February a month to avoid for the Southwest? To keep our summer trip budget intact, I was thinking of camping as much as possible. After checking weather sites for temperature histories in key spots (Furnace Creek, Saint George, Page, Sedona), nighttime temps over the past two years ranged from +5 to -2°C. So, it seemed doable...
I started discussing (aka negotiating, even begging) with my better half. The kids caught on fast that there was a chance we’d go, and they were thrilled! She finally gave her consent to make the kids happy 😎. I quickly checked that our ESTAs were still valid, and 48 hours later, I had the tickets in hand 😎😎. But five days later, Laetitia changed her mind—her "Yes" turned back into a "No." No way were we going without her to her favorite country!!
Damn it 🤪! I had to tell her I’d already bought the four tickets (without bringing it up again, of course—a "Yes" is a "Yes," right?). And since the tickets were non-refundable, there was no going back... Apparently, with women, some "Yeses" mean *really* yes, but others mean, "I said yes in principle, but I wasn’t actually on board—and I never thought you’d have the nerve to buy the tickets without telling me!!" I had no idea 🤪!
Us guys? We’re way more straightforward—binary, even monetary... Yes means yes! And no can mean yes too 😏!! Anyway, in a lovely family atmosphere, I opened a thread to start planning and thanked Trois14 and Bluemesa for their help. On Trois14’s advice, I booked 5 nights in motels around St. George-Page at super tempting rates—around $35-40 a night...
On that note, Christmas cost me an arm and a leg... Gotta try to make up for it 😛!
Here’s the theoretical itinerary:
Death Valley (2 days) Valley of Fire The White Dome (hike up and down via Squirrel Canyon) 4 nights in the Kanab-Page area Sedona (2 days) Route 66 Alabama Hills / Trona Pinnacles Drive back to SFO via Highway 1
That’s the plan, at least...
In reality, it turned into a whole different story. I learned that in February, you’ve got to be flexible—*very* flexible sometimes—to dodge the weather. Halfway through, a cold snap made our second week (planned 100% camping) impossible, completely upending the itinerary.
So, a huge thanks to PapJ59, Noyellebis, and especially Caribou44 and Simonic. 🙂 A thousand thanks for your quick responses, availability, and sound advice, which let us have an original and unforgettable second week—Organ Pipe Cactus NM, Yuma, Salvation Mountain, Anza Borrego SP, a palm grove in Joshua Tree, then back to SFO!! Without you, we’d have been miserable on the spot, but instead... 😇
A big shout-out to Thibaut and his famous blog (rightfully praised on VF—it’s one of the few that details Organ Pipe), to travel journal writers for inspiration in general, and to those who helped me prep or during the trip (journals by Pong, Hiacinthe, Zitounet, and Laetitia).
Now, for the story...
Hi everyone,
I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed... Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.

It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.

We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂

At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.
We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.
We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.
August 2–3
Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!
We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.
We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.
We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed... Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.

It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.

We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂

At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.
We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.
After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!
Hello,
My name is Armel. I live in Burkina Faso. I work in the transit field (import-export), and I’d love to meet good-willed people, friends, business partners, or fellow entrepreneurs to exchange ideas and achieve great things together.
I hope you’ll write to me, and that our meeting will be excellent.
You’re welcome to join my circle of friends here in Burkina Faso.
I’d be happy to have you as a friend or partner.
PS I’m open to connecting with anyone interested in starting a project or doing good business in Burkina Faso. All the best to everyone.
PS I’m open to connecting with anyone interested in starting a project or doing good business in Burkina Faso. All the best to everyone.











