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Martine and DD in Colorado and Utah
Hello everyone! 🙂 So many silent months, and now Voyage Forum is accessible again. That’s cool because we can pick up our discussions for our mutual enjoyment. I hope everyone is doing well and that you’ve been able to take some great trips, whether to the USA or elsewhere. In September 2020, we had planned a round trip to explore Colorado, but unfortunately, a nasty virus messed up our plans, closing borders and keeping us stuck at home. Luckily for us, canceling the car, flights, and accommodations didn’t cost us a thing—everything was refunded. In 2023, a loop from Las Vegas let us revisit places we’d seen in 2017 and discover new ones, this time spending more time at each stop with some lovely hikes. In 2024, we finally revisited the 2020 plan, and I’ll start with that. However, unforeseen circumstances mean I have much less time than before, so I’ll keep my trip reports shorter (ha ha ha—you’ll have less of my prose to endure). Another change: for those who remember the "Gang of Four crazy sixty-somethings," it was just DD and me this time. Our dear Mimi and Maumau left the Var to focus on raising horses and can’t leave their little green paradise to join us anymore. We were unfortunately much tamer without them. We traveled from September 11 to October 3.

The itinerary



Day 1: Flight Marseille-Paris-Denver, then Manitou Springs (133 km) Day 2: Manitou Springs (49 km) Day 3: Cripple Creek (104 km) Day 4: Salida (254 km) Day 5: Great Sand Dunes (231 km) Day 6: Durango (283 km) Day 7: Durango (Durango-Silverton train) Day 8: Ouray (121 km) Day 9: Ouray (Perimeter Trail hike) Day 10: Cortez (213 km) Day 11: Cortez (Mesa Verde National Park, 134 km) Day 12: Monticello (268 km, detour to Chesler Park) Day 13: Moab (171 km, Delicate Arch) Day 14: Moab (98 km, Fisher Towers) Day 15: Moab (171 km, Canyonlands) Day 16: Fruita (210 km, Colorado National Monument) Day 17: Crested Butte (224 km via Kebler Pass) Day 18: Crested Butte (57 km) Day 19: Glenwood Springs (150 km) Day 20: Glenwood Springs (118 km, Rifle State Park) Day 21: Georgetown (258 km via Independence Pass) Day 22: Denver (123 km), then return flight

We speak very little English. We spent 21 nights there and covered a 3,400 km loop by car and 160 km on foot (we’re still trying to hike while we’re in shape) from Denver in September 2024. We wanted this road trip to help us explore Colorado a bit more—we’d only spent 6 nights there in 2019—and to see it during the fall foliage season. We also wanted to return to Utah (we love Moab) to enjoy its red rocks, which we adore.

In the prices you see (some in euros, others in dollars), I’ve included bank fees and exchange charges. The flights, car, and parking were paid by credit card when we booked in February. Usually, we book around November, but some obligations kept us from doing it earlier. We downloaded the MPC (Mobile Passport Control) app on our phone, which saved us time at immigration.

📊 **Budget: just under 8,500 € for both of us, all included**

📊 **Flights** Marseille-Paris (CDG)-Denver: 2,152 € for both of us, with one checked bag each

📊 **ESTA and America the Beautiful Pass** The ones from our 2023 road trip were still valid

📊 **Parking at Marseille airport: 122 €**

📊 **Car: Nissan Rogue (the French X-Trail) from Hertz: 1,165 €** By booking through Air France (and earning miles), we got a 15% discount. Hertz offers a free Hertz Gold Plus Rewards program, which gives us priority counter service.

📊 **Accommodation: 3,050 €** We stayed in motels and hotels of various ranges (from 100 € to 270 € per night, depending on the city), all booked through Hotels.com or Booking. Booking sometimes offers cheaper rates if you book via the "Booking mobile" app. We also got some preferential rates thanks to our Genius 2 status. Out of 21 nights, only one place didn’t include breakfast.

📊 **Other expenses (activities booked by credit card before leaving)** Durango-Silverton train: 210 € (we booked the enclosed vintage coach in March) Mesa Verde: Balcony House: 15.15 € (booked 14 days before the visit) Timed-entry passes for Arches National Park: 6 € for 3 days (booked June 1 for September entries via http://récreation.gov/). We booked three different days to play with the weather.

📊 **Supplementary insurance with AVA: 204 €** (due to our age 😅 and the high cost of medical consultations in the USA)

📊 **Cash: 1,540 €** We left with 1,000 € exchanged before departure and made two withdrawals (500 $ and 200 $). This cash was used to pay for: - Evening restaurants and tips (between 70 $ and 95 $ for two meals and two drinks) - Two state parks: Dead Horse State Park (20 $) and Rifle State Park (10 $) - The Monarch Pass gondola (24 $) - Midday picnics - Gas (slightly cheaper with cash): 204 $ for 3,400 km - Personal souvenirs and little treats.

Like in our previous road trips, we didn’t rent a GPS. We used the offline GPS app Here We Go, for which we’d downloaded maps of Colorado and Utah from France, as well as a new offline app called Organic Maps as a backup—though we didn’t end up needing it.

❤️❤️❤️ **Highlights (there are so many!)** 📍 The stunning landscapes of Colorado, especially with the fall colors 📍 A step back in time at the old farm in Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument 📍 The prairies of Cripple Creek and the mining remnants of the Vindicator Trail 📍 The cheeky chipmunks in the ghost town of St. Elmo 📍 Great Sand Dunes and its soft sand 📍 The steam train between Durango and Silverton: we’re glad we chose the round-trip because it rained heavily on the way there, but we got to enjoy the scenery on the way back when the sun came out 📍 The unexpected meet-up with Michèle from the group outside a restaurant in Durango 📍 The hot springs in Ouray 📍 Mesa Verde and its still-vibrant past 📍 The red rocks of Moab and Delicate Arch at sunset 📍 The lace-like Fisher Towers and the view from the end of the trail 📍 The gorgeous Route 128 leading to Colorado National Monument—small, easy to visit, and so beautiful 📍 The colors of the fabulous Kebler Pass, Crested Butte, and especially the hike through the golden aspens (Lower and Upper Loop) 📍 The waterfalls at Rifle State Park 📍 The tundra of Independence Pass 📍 The Halloween decorations in Georgetown and Idaho Springs

😞😞 **Flops (there are very few!)** 📍 The viewpoints we missed because they weren’t well-marked or we didn’t see the signs 📍 The closure of some hiking trails (Hanging Lake and parts of Canyonlands) and the Sal Mountain Loop road, which kept us from accessing it 📍😢 The Chesler Park hike we had to cut short due to poor time management—180 km between our stop in Cortez meant we didn’t arrive until 10:30 AM, way too late for a 17 km hike.

Hope this helps! Have a great evening, everyone, and see you soon! 😊
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A long journey around Australia
Sunday, October 1st, 2023 Mulhouse-London We dumped our trash on our neighbors. We hugged, overflowing with emotion. Then Léa from Taxis S showed up. She knows us well. For ages, she’s been our driver. She was practically the official taxiwoman for the trips of the company where Dom and I met. She knew us when we were single! Almost teenagers! She knows everyone and fills in the biographies of people we’d forgotten. Across the street, while we loaded the luggage, S., perched in his window frame, waved a handkerchief. This wasn’t just any trip. Then things got tricky. It’s funny how fate sinks its teeth into our happy moments—there’s this whole intermediate phase where the poison seeps in unnoticed because you’re still in the dark... First, there was a delay on our flight to London. Dom immediately went on high alert, while I stayed calm. In my mind, we had two hours. I knew we had to go from Terminal 5 to Terminal 4, but two hours—come on, that’s plenty, right?

Bad calculation! Because those two hours were between the first flight’s landing and the second’s takeoff. But flights close at least half an hour before departure. Getting from one terminal to another means taking a shuttle bus. We waited for the one going to Terminal 4... until a young guy paid to direct people (who hadn’t seen us) informed us it was no longer possible to access Terminal 4 without going through Terminal 2 first for a connection! That really cranked up the pressure. We started installing a mental countdown with a programmed explosion at the end—guaranteed stress with added beads of sweat. The terminal bus was driven by a young Pakistani guy. We were *so* tense we bombarded him with our frantic, repetitive questions. “So? When are we getting there? What’s happening? Why aren’t we moving?” Our eyes were glued to our watches. The poor guy knew. Perfectly. Because it was obvious—no way around it. We weren’t going to make it. It was impossible. But Dom and I stubbornly refused to believe it. Then the kid stopped the bus. Me, hysterical: “What are you doing? What’s going on? Our plane takes off in... in... 4 minutes!!!! We’re gonna miss iiiiiit!” He wasn’t calm either. “You’ve already missed it!” He explained we had to cross a zone that required an escort car to clear a path through the runways. Impossible to do without. It’s forbidden. We had to WAIT (!!!). Then he got a radio call—he had to rush to Terminal 3 to pick up a passenger who was *super* tight on time. “Amir!!!! It’s RIGHT NOW!” they yelled in his already-red ears, thanks to the complaints of two hysterical Frenchies. Dom and I were in overdrive, hallucinating! We wanted to stop him, maybe even hit him to prevent him from turning around. He picked up the girl, whom we instantly hated like the most despicable witch. I turned on my data, searched for Malaysia Airlines’ number at Terminal 4, called, and actually got someone—quite a feat. A woman cut off my frantic rambling with a blunt “It’s over, the check-in is closed, the plane is about to take off.” I heard her but refused to accept it. I yelled, “We’re coming!” She shot back her monolithic “It’s over.” Finally at the doors of that damn Terminal 4, we ran—*really* ran—a marathon, Gate 6, security checks, pat-downs, “Take off your belts,” we asked questions, everyone seemed confident, we ran with one hand holding up our pants, the other clutching our belt, Gate 6—the room was empty. A girl was sitting there, calmly on the phone. We pounced on her. She calmed us down. Little by little, the light came back. Our brains rebooted. We finally understood it was over. We’d have to start crafting a new plan with the new reality. It started with a return to Terminal 5 to talk to British Airways, which took a good hour. With the same driver as before. We were alone with him. He took the time to apologize, to assure us it wasn’t his fault, that our problem had no solution, that nothing could’ve changed the outcome. At BA, we were exhausted. We were greeted by a handsome young man in a navy-blue uniform with gold stripes everywhere. We could’ve made a scene, but we were just relieved to find someone who’d take charge of our story. It was a minimal response, but it was *a* response. I suppose we could’ve demanded a business-class upgrade or a free trip, but we were just happy with a few vouchers for food, a hotel room with breakfast, and a little bag with plastic toys, a razor, toothbrush, hygiene products, and a T-shirt... Trinkets... But we were fine with it all—we said thank you eagerly because the essential was assured. He found us seats on flights tomorrow. *Tomorrow.* We were afraid to hope! We had the exact same flights but a day later. The same crappy times, but it was all good. We felt saved from the shipwreck, like survivors. - And what about the luggage? - .... !!!!

Monday, October 2nd, 2023 London - Kuala Lumpur

It wasn’t the Ritz, but with exhaustion on our side, we slept well. The continental breakfast was way better than we’d expected from an Ibis Budget. Still, it wasn’t enough to restore my joy for life. The course correction had turned into an arduous obstacle course. I scoured the car rental site every which way. Couldn’t reschedule the car. I’d done it before, but this time... Not to mention the laptop battery was complaining—the Brits have this quirk of making their power outlets incompatible with our chargers. Frustrated, I called them but ended up with a girl who declared herself incompetent and offered to have someone from Avis in Perth call me back—someone who’d supposedly handle rentals better. I decided to wait while taking a bath. Barely settled in, the phone rang. I was soaking wet, of course, and asked Dom to answer. Unfortunately, she’s known for disliking my phone, and in a clumsy move, she hung up. We got annoyed. She put dry towels on the edge of the bathtub, but—another false move—they fell in the water. The phone rang again... I completely redid the plans for the next two days, then transferred the files to my phone to consult them later offline. I plugged in my USB cable... *Plop!* The battery died abruptly—my PC shut down without any of the usual polite warnings! I looked around, hoping to find someone to strangle... Long story short, you can tell the day started under the worst omens. I was in a foul mood and spread my bad vibes to Dominique, who was initially in much better spirits... I called Mastercard, hoping to get a refund for the non-refundable night in Perth we’d already paid for. Same old song: “We’ll call you back”... Then... I’ll cut it short—buses, trains, lots of waiting... We rushed to reach the infamous Terminal 4.



We tried new options and convinced ourselves that a delayed departure flight is unrecoverable, no matter the scenario. We were furious that BA hadn’t bothered to tell us, leaving us to run around like rats in a burning house.

Tuesday, October 3rd, 2023 Kuala Lumpur-Perth

The flight was pretty nice. 13 hours, though. Dom and I were facing each other across the aisle. We could get up easily whenever we wanted without bothering anyone and chat when we felt like it. Besides, their chicken was amazing. They were kind enough to offer Dom a truly remarkable glass of rum. Good movies too, including the excellent *Prisoners* by Denis Villeneuve. At KL, during boarding, we developed a nagging worry about our luggage. We checked with some Malaysian Airlines staff. I sensed their hesitation. They made calls. Then changed their minds, giving us smiles and thumbs up...

Wednesday, October 4th, 2023 Perth

*Happy is the man who, like Ulysses, has had a fine voyage.* Well, for us, it wasn’t that. Finally arrived, we experienced the loneliness of tourists watching the baggage carousel spin, emptying of its precious containers one by one, until only a handful of travelers were left, staring at each other in disbelief. Without luggage, you’re kinda screwed. Not even a change of socks—our feet had been swimming in the same shoes for 3 days. No adapter, so no laptop. No toiletries. We could’ve cried! The lost luggage guy played his part. If you want compensation, fill out the disclaimer on the website made for that. And then, “Don’t worry, your luggage will arrive tomorrow!” “Don’t worry?!” From the start of the trip, we’ve been jerked around, fed lies. Tomorrow is the *absolute* last chance to get them back. Beyond that, we’d have to scramble a whole new trip. And lose a lot in the process! I have no idea how to go about it. Tomorrow... OMG... Tomorrow... We landed at 1 AM. Avis, the car rental place, opens at 6:30. Luckily, we found some decent breakfast. It cheered us up and gave us a second wind. Incorrigible, we started believing again! Well, then we just killed time. What else was there to do?



In front of Avis’s little shack, we were freezing. We’d been there since dawn. The girl who showed up, a Latina, immediately saw us as a nuisance who’d ruin her hopes of a peaceful start. Her face and tone were as unwelcoming as possible. You know us—it ended with hugs. She gave us a gorgeous, brand-new car! A hybrid with ultra-sophisticated features, all buttons you shouldn’t touch if you want to drive this thing without causing irreparable damage! We’re off! Driving on the left is easy at first. You think about it constantly. It’s counterintuitive, it takes effort. It’s later, when you get used to it and confidence sets in, that it becomes dangerous—old reflexes can send you into a wall. Anyway, the car and I immediately clicked.

In Perth, underground parking next to the hotel, friendly welcome—we ended up forgetting all the morning’s mishaps. Should we go sightseeing?

https://voyageforum.com/images/posts/small/1733767537-5Nwk6t3DsBZNOzf.jpg
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Bangkok - Chiang Mai - Koh Samui in summer
Hi everyone, I’ve spent two solid months reading the Lonely Planet and pretty much every post about Thailand here, plus French and English blogs. Now I’d love to get your expert opinions on our itinerary. We’re heading off in August 2025 with our 7-year-old daughter. We only have a maximum of three weeks off, and I’m keeping an eye on flight prices before booking (1400 € per person really stings 😕). So here’s what I’ve planned—let me know if you spot any major issues or if I’ve been way too "optimistic."

D1 - Arrival in Bangkok / rest, quick visit, overnight stay D2 - More temple visits, etc. D3 - Morning flight to Chiang Mai D4 - More Chiang Mai sightseeing D5 - Day trip to Chiang Rai (guided tour to book: blue and white temple), return to Chiang Mai late in the evening D6 - More Chiang Mai visits / Elephant Nature Park in the afternoon D7 - Morning flight to Koh Samui, sightseeing D8 to D10 - More Koh Samui visits D11 to D13 - Ferry to Koh Phangan D14 to D15 - Ferry to Koh Tao D16 - Return to Koh Samui, then flight to Bangkok D17 - Day trip to Ayutthaya, return to Bangkok in the evening D18 - Flight back to France :(

I know a lot of you recommend heading straight to Chiang Mai to recover from the international flight, but my partner and I NEVER sleep on planes (personally, I’ve been flying to Taiwan since I was little and have never slept more than an hour on a 14-hour flight...), so it’s essential for us to rest upon arrival . That’s also why I opted for domestic flights instead of the sleeper train—I know we’d lose over 10 hours and wouldn’t be able to rest properly in those conditions. And I’m sure you’ll also say BKK > North > South is too much for three weeks, but I really want to see as much as possible. Given how much the flights will cost, I’m not sure when we’ll be able to come back 🏴‍☠️.

So, questions: 1. Since we’ll only be in Bangkok for a maximum of two nights and need to easily reach the airport with luggage (and a child), which neighborhood should we prioritize? We’d love to experience the evening vibe of Asian night markets, ideally within walking distance of the hotel or just a few metro stops away. I’ve looked at Chinatown, but the BTS seems far... Should we go for somewhere near BTS Saphan Taksin or BTS Krungthonburi? But is the area lively in the evening with food courts, etc.? We’d also like to treat ourselves to a hotel with a pool.

2. Have we planned too many days in the south? Should I skip Koh Tao and just do Koh Samui + Koh Phangan? My partner and daughter aren’t strong swimmers, so we’re looking for beautiful beaches without too much current. Crowded beaches don’t bother us—we just want stunning turquoise waters without killer waves . Going all the way to Koh Tao and then back to Koh Samui to catch the flight to Bangkok seems too stressful. Is it still possible these days (I haven’t seen any recent posts on this) to head to Koh Samui in August and decide on the spot how many nights to spend in Koh Phangan or Koh Tao based on how we feel, booking hotels as we go? Or is that too risky?

If you have any better suggestions for fitting all this in while reducing internal flights, I’m all ears for your great tips
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Western USA Oct 2024 - Arches and Other Delights...
Aaah, I'm so glad Voyage Forum is back up and running. For reading... and for writing...

My last travel journal was from 2019, when I went hiking and backpacking with my son, who was 15 at the time. We visited some places that were still pretty unknown back then! I was supposed to go in April 2020, still solo, with arches as the main focus. I’d spent nearly two months getting physically prepared, and had managed to snag a bunch of permits for CBS, The Needles, and so on... Of course, it all got postponed—first to October 2020, then April 2021, then October 2021, and finally it happened in April 2022. Maybe I’ll write about that in another journal. The thing is, every time, I spend at least 6 to 8 weeks getting physically ready, even though I work out all year. Huge disappointment during that trip—so much had changed because of Covid, kind of like in the mountains back home. Overcrowding, not just in the national parks (we knew about that), but also in a lot of remote, lesser-known spots. Like the French, Americans realized they had a lot of beautiful places in their own country during those travel bans. And they kept exploring... Prices for pretty much everything had already gone up a lot. Gas, restaurants, cars, but especially lodging! Then, after dealing with so much wind in April, I got a little "fed up" with that time of year. It felt like I had strong winds and sandstorms for 3 out of the 3.5 weeks I was there...

So, the next trip was October 2023, to catch the partial eclipse in New Mexico, and of course, a bunch of arches ;). So many arches. Maybe I’ll write about that one too... Then came (among others) April 2024 for the total eclipse, in Texas, but starting from L.A., with my partner Valérie. Since I’d never visited some places I wanted to see further south of my usual loops, it was the perfect opportunity... And here we are at the end of September 2024. Another trip focused on arches—I never get tired of them. Every time I check one off my list, another gets added. Often it’s a photo I’ve seen online or in the NABS (Natural Arches and Bridges Society) magazine, which I’m a member of. I also scour the WAD (World Arches Database) and make a list of arches I want to visit. Fewer and fewer "viewpoints"—I’ve done all the most famous ones, and unless the sky is amazing, the photos all look the same. Since my goal is always photography *and* hiking, I’m always on the lookout. So this time, a packed itinerary—27 days, very busy. In past trips, if I didn’t plan enough and hiked fast, I’d end up with too many "gaps" in my days. This time, I’d rather have too much than too little (like in 2023, actually).

A few stats: - 6,589 km, including +/-1,400 km of off-road trails - 323 km of hiking, 8,829 m of elevation gain - 142 new arches for my collection, including some stunning ones, some less so, and some downright ugly—but all in the WAD. - Two outings with a Navajo guide - Almost no injuries - 8 bivouacs, including 2 backpacking trips - 4 days of backpacking - 22 freeze-dried meals and 15 Subways eaten - 6 thorns in my shoes (long live the tweezers in my backpack) - 3 kg lost (plus the 5 kg lost during prep)

Almost every day, I posted a little update on Facebook for family and friends. So I’ll be copy-pasting those texts here, written "my way" as usual. Some will like it, some won’t—that’s just how it is... 😏

For months, I planned this trip—looking for info, creating GPS tracks on Google Earth, exchanging tips with NABS members and other passionate friends. I snagged permits for The Needles again (4-5 days), for Fiery Furnace, timed entries for Arches National Park (2), and booked just one campsite, a "triple tour" in Monument Valley, and the first night in a motel. This is the first time I haven’t booked 80% of the motels—I was tired of having constraints because of the weather. This time, I want to be able to adjust my plans based on the weather and what I feel like doing more or less of. Camp when the weather’s nice, hotel/motel when it’s crappy.

Here we go...

Day 1

As usual, early morning flights: BRU-AMS, then AMS-SLC. Those who follow me know I’ve been renting a Rubicon from Rugged for years, which "forces" me to land in SLC. Up at 3:30 AM, but I’d been awake since 2:00 AM—the day’s going to be long. Shuttle to the airport. In Brussels, only two check-in counters open. I get there—no cabin baggage weigh-in, while the agent next to me is weighing everyone’s, even kids’ backpacks! A bit of luck, because as usual, if they weighed my backpack *and* my cabin bag, I’d already be over 20 kg. I check two hold bags, since I’ve got a lot of camping/backpacking gear, lots of freeze-dried meals, the backpacking bag, the Bear Canister needed for The Needles, etc. First flight is 30 minutes late, so the second one is already boarding. I’ve got the SSSS mark on my ticket (extra security check), so I head straight to the front when I arrive at the same time as Zone 3, even though I’m Zone 6. I pretend the check will take a while, and it "works"—they didn’t notice! No way I want to board last and risk them making me check my cabin bag. It’s packed with photo gear, laptop, drone, etc.—unthinkable to have to put it in the hold. Always a worry... SLC: baggage claim, customs, and out in 32 minutes. The MPC app makes something that was already quick even faster at this airport. And all the bags are there. That’s always a relief too. Since I drive at least 3 hours straight after landing, losing a hold bag would really mess up the trip and force me to spend the first night closer to SLC. On the way to Rugged. A young French couple from Reims is in the shuttle with me—they discovered Rugged thanks to my post in a Facebook group! Well, the team has changed again, and they lost half the stuff I’d left last October (plastic boxes, pillow, sugar, gas cartridges, folding chair, Crocs, etc.), but at least there are gas cartridges, so I don’t have to go to REI. REI would’ve been at least an hour out of my way. But as far as I know, there are no gas cartridges in Green River. I still get my tent stake hammer back, and a folding chair—different from mine but identical.

20,000 km Rubicon 4Xe, white. I check the tires—they’re in great shape, as requested. I’ll come back to the hybrid later. I didn’t want a hybrid, but that’s all they had this year. Why? Higher fuel consumption, smaller tank, higher cargo floor.

Stop at the Walmart near Provo, whose layout I know like the back of my hand (Walmarts are often similar). Start-of-trip shopping: water, Coke, Gatorade, UHT milk for cereal (not very common in the US), Special K "Almond and Vanilla", cold meds that work well (and don’t exist back home—you never know), two plastic bins, a pillow for the tent, Trail Mix, that’s about it. On the road to Nebo Loop for the fall colors. I’d driven this route last year, in the opposite direction on my way back to SLC, but it was a bit too late. This time, I’m a little early. At the start of the road, the maples are in the sun, so I go up to 2,200 m for the bright yellow aspens, then head back down. Mostly drone shots—no time to go for a walk. After a day like this, 4.5-5 hours of driving is already a lot... Arrived in Green River at 9:00 PM. Organize all the stuff from the bags properly, then sleep.

A few photos from these first few hours.







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15-day itinerary in southern Morocco
Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads. Transport: a rented Dacia. Accommodations: small guesthouses.

Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.

Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.

Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.
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Mexico: The Magic of the Yucatán
Hello everyone,

What a pleasure to be back on VF after a few difficult years 😎 So, before diving into the topic, welcome back to VF and above all... keep going!

Well, I’m finally picking up my old habit of posting a new travel journal.

Before heading to Mexico in the summer of 2023 with my family (my partner and our two boys, aged 18 and 16), I had somehow convinced myself—though I can’t even remember why—that the Yucatán was too touristy, too cliché, too expensive, and overrated!

The country didn’t particularly appeal to me, but faced with my wife’s insistence—she’d been there years ago, before we met, and had promised to show our sons this incredible place—my arguments didn’t hold much weight.

And thank goodness, because I have to admit she was absolutely right to take us there! In the end, we encountered far fewer tourists than we’d feared (except at a few sites), and the prices, which we’d been told were geared toward American neighbors (US), turned out to be quite affordable. In short, it was pure joy on both counts. All that was left was for the trip itself to be beautiful and memorable—and it was...

1st stop: Isla Holbox and the whale sharks

Holbox (pronounced “Hol-bosh”) is a stunning island where you can relax in an enchanting setting.



Our main goal in coming to Holbox was to swim with whale sharks. So, the first thing we told our hotel, Los Arcos Holbox, upon arrival was to arrange an excursion with one of the island’s many tour operators: Glendy Tours Holbox. We set off the next morning, bright and early.

The itinerary for this outing is the same for all tour operators (and there are about thirty of them!): roughly two hours by speedboat, then snorkeling with the whale sharks, followed by another boat ride to Cabo Catoche for lunch, then more boating to a fish-filled snorkeling spot before heading back. In total, the excursion can take eight hours—or even longer.



Besides my two sons and me, there were only two other clients on board—a French couple. Our boat was one of the very first to leave, but after ten minutes, the pilot got a radio call. We turned back without any explanation, returning to the departure dock.

There, a young woman who clearly fancied herself a diva was waiting for us. She was Mexican and boarded the boat, snubbing all five of us while flirting with the pilot and guide, who were suddenly all eyes for her. We couldn’t understand how this diva had convinced our tour operator to turn the boat around just to pick her up when she hadn’t even booked and we were already far out. We left 20 minutes late.

The two-hour journey passed surprisingly quickly, and for good reason: we spotted dolphins six times! They were leaping out of the water as they moved. Pure joy. We stopped whenever they were near the boat.



The photo isn’t great—the ultra-wide-angle lens on my GoPro makes the dolphins look smaller—but at least I got a souvenir.

A few flying fish (exocets) also glided a meter or two above the water as we sped along. The false start was forgotten, and the day was off to a fantastic start in this stunning marine environment...

When we reached the area where the whale sharks were supposed to be, the guide explained that we’d now have to scan the sea until we spotted one. It could take five minutes or forty-five, he said, and if we were unlucky, we might not see any at all!

An hour and a half later—still nothing! The captain then headed toward a distant area where about twenty other boats were already gathered.

Sure enough, there was a juvenile whale shark (still a good eight meters long) there, and all the boats were lining up to approach it slowly, one by one, so as not to scare the animal. Each boat got about thirty seconds within a few meters of it, engine idling, before making way for the next. We were allowed to approach three times, but we weren’t permitted to dive in. That’s normal—such a crowd of divers around a single animal would stress it out, and here, whale sharks are protected by regulations: swimming with them is strictly controlled. There was even a coast guard boat with us at all times, monitoring everyone’s behavior.

We were torn between the luck of seeing such a magnificent animal, even from the surface, and the discomfort we felt about the absurd situation. All those boats lined up just to catch a fleeting glimpse of the shark for a few seconds—let’s be honest, it was ridiculous. In short, the whole thing was unpleasant, and probably even more so for the shark than for us, though it did keep gulping down kilos of plankton as if nothing were happening...

When it was our turn to approach, I dipped my GoPro into the water at arm’s length and framed the shot blindly, hoping for a decent image of the shark.



On the third and final approach, the sixth passenger on board—the one we’d had to turn back for ten minutes after departure—quietly spoke to the guide and captain after putting on her flippers (even though, I’ll remind you, no one was allowed to dive). She wanted them to ask the coast guard for permission to dive with the shark—just her! She whispered so we couldn’t hear what she was offering in exchange.

The two lackeys complied and shouted the request to the officials in front of all the other boats, with no shame whatsoever. With so many witnesses, the coast guard had no choice but to refuse. The diva wouldn’t let it go and asked them to insist, which they did, but the refusal was firm and final.

On the nearest boats, everyone had heard and was stunned. They openly mocked this bimbo who clearly had no shame. Hidden behind her star sunglasses, she responded with a dismissive smile. Pathetic.

The encounter with the shark ended, and we set off for Cabo Catoche, a site on Holbox Island where we were to have lunch.



We were a little disappointed not to have had the chance to see the usual school of whale sharks (they’re often dozens swimming together!), but that’s nature’s way, and we knew it.

And then, an unlikely stroke of luck: a boat ahead of us was putting divers in the water with a pair of adult whale sharks. We joined them, and while we were putting on our masks and snorkels, the guide briefed us. He said my sons and I would go first, followed by the French couple and the diva.

But Miss World, clearly unhappy with this order, quietly complained to the guide, who eventually switched the order. It didn’t bother us since we’d only get a minute in the water anyway—what’s a minute more or less?

So the three of them got in the water, and a moment later, they were done. My two sons and I, sitting on the edge of the boat with masks on and snorkels in our mouths, were ready to finally take the plunge. But instead of continuing to follow the shark, the captain was suddenly all eyes for Miss Silicone! He even let go of the wheel for a moment to help her back on board.

One of the two sharks had already left minutes earlier, and the second was swimming farther away. Other boats were arriving, and the captain went to join the queue 100 meters from the shark. Soon, even more boats showed up. There were way too many people, the shark left, and diving was no longer possible.

I was, of course, a little disappointed not to have fulfilled my long-time dream of swimming with a whale shark, even briefly. But I was mostly disgusted for my two boys, who had been so excited about it. I told the guide exactly what I thought and asked for compensation—not for missing out on swimming with the shark (you can never guarantee seeing one, nature isn’t at our beck and call), but for clearly skipping our turn to dive. He promised a refund.

At the end of the day, back on land, he dropped us all off, and as he was about to leave, I reminded him about the refund. He agreed again, calmly got back on board, and sped off as if nothing had happened—just him and the captain, two total cowards. I couldn’t believe it.

Of course, back at our hotel (which had booked this tour operator—Glendy Tours), I explained the situation and asked for my refund again. The receptionist called the manager, who arrived with the guide. Our runaway wasn’t so cocky anymore. Inside, I was fuming, but I kept my cool during the discussion that followed.

Right off the bat, I made a point of looking the so-called guide in the eyes while telling him he’d run off like a coward. I did my best to stay calm, speaking clearly, staring him down the whole time, and repeating several times that he was a coward, in front of the manager, who didn’t say a word. The guide had clearly been told by his boss to keep quiet because he didn’t utter a word during the entire twenty-minute conversation.

Anyway, I’ll spare you the details, but in the end, the manager only offered us another excursion the next day as compensation for the “inconvenience.” It was just snorkeling with fish, not another whale shark trip. He admitted their fault, but since we had to leave early the next morning and had other bookings for the rest of the trip, we couldn’t accept. And he refused to refund us.

On Tripadvisor, Glendy Tours has a mediocre rating (3 out of 5), but more importantly, it ranks 29th out of 36 nautical tour operators rated by customers. I was pretty upset with the hotel for booking such an amateur for us.



If you want to swim with whale sharks in Holbox, you might end up with Glendy Tours. And it might go well—I certainly hope so. But given the price of such an excursion (3,000 pesos per person, about 160 €!), I’d still suggest quickly checking online before you go to see which providers have the best ratings. You’ll have a much better chance of things going smoothly with the top-rated ones than with those as poorly ranked as Glendy Tours.

On the other hand, if you’re a beautiful young woman, you can choose them without worry—you’ll get better treatment than the rest of us...

To wrap up this excursion, I have to mention the “respect for nature” angle that all these tour operators highlight. They tell us they respect the whale sharks: only two or three people can dive at a time, and only for a few minutes, so as not to disturb these gentle giants...

We believed them before we left, but that’s not what we saw. When the sharks are hard to find except for one, everyone rushes it, and only the constant presence of the coast guard prevents the tour operators from putting their clients in the water.

Because for the second shark we saw, when the divers from our boat got out of the water and we left to join the queue while it was our turn to dive, other boats quickly arrived and started swarming the poor shark, which eventually left.

In other words, it’s clear these companies only respect the sharks when they’re being watched.

Boat reversing a meter away from a pelican

And for the snorkeling near Cabo Catoche, they attract fish daily by feeding them—a practice that’s normally discouraged. Afterward, these fish can’t feed naturally anymore and become dependent on Glendy Tours and its competitors.

A quick note on the rest of the excursion: Cabo Catoche (the site where we had lunch, on Holbox Island) is the northernmost point of the entire Yucatán. The place is paradise.



On the way back, we spent half an hour snorkeling at a site that turned out to be fish-filled only because the tour operators had the bad habit of feeding the fish. But this practice, which isn’t respectful of nature, is normally discouraged.



Plus, life jackets—like in many places in the Yucatán—are mandatory!!



As divers, we didn’t find the site very interesting, but objectively, it should delight those who aren’t used to putting their heads underwater in beautiful dive spots.

We hated feeling trapped in those life jackets, stuck at the surface, and for me, the highlight was swimming next to a pelican that wasn’t too shy—it was paddling right beside me in green water.

Anyway, it seems we can’t post more than 10 photos at once on VF, so I’ll come back with the rest of the journal in another message. Because after these early trip mishaps, the rest of the journey turned out to be magnificent...
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Forum is back
Great news that the forum is back—we’ve been waiting for this for ages! Now we can chat again with the die-hards like Claudio, Luc Bertand, and everyone else... Voyager à vélo
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Brazil 2020: Amazon, Northeast, Chapada, and Boipeba – a winning combo!
Hello everyone.

Preamble:

Sooner or later, you’ve got to take the plunge! I thought lockdown would be the perfect time to start this travel journal, but between working from home and gardening, I just didn’t have the time (or the motivation). Plus, long-haul trips weren’t really on the cards back then... But then I stumbled upon my photos and thought, "I’ve got to share my latest adventure in Brazil—you guessed it!"

First, a little flashback: some of you (yes, really, in DMs!) pointed out the big gaps in my travel journals—India in 2019, Vietnam in 2018, so many missed opportunities!

Truth is, for India, I traveled with a private guide and honestly didn’t have much to add to the tons of well-documented journals already out there. Plus, I still haven’t decided if I love or hate India... So, how do you share your feelings when you’re not even sure yourself? As for Vietnam, I had plenty to say—even though the itinerary was pretty classic—but I’ll admit the vibe on this part of the forum at the time kinda put me off for a while... And time flies, and memories fade... Anyway, just wanted to clear that up for my (many or few) readers. *Tudo bem*, let’s get started!!
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Costa Rica: Two Incredible Weeks
Hi everyone,

Taking advantage of the quiet days that Covid-19 has brought us, I thought it was time to share my experience in Costa Rica. Once again, I found a lot of helpful information on this forum, so if I can help in return, I’d be happy to!

Here’s some general info: - 2-week trip in a 4x4 during the dry season, from 01/27 to 02/10 - Two 27-year-old travelers, no kids And here’s our itinerary: Day 1: Arrival in San José Day 2: San José - Tortuguero Day 3: Tortuguero Day 4: Tortuguero - Arenal Day 5: Arenal Day 6: Arenal - Tenorio Day 7: Tenorio - Monteverde Day 8: Monteverde - Quepos Day 9: Quepos Day 10: Quepos - Uvita Day 11: Uvita - Sierpe - Bahía Drake Day 12 & 13: Bahía Drake Day 14: Bahía Drake - San José Day 15: Flight back to Switzerland...

Of course, we had to make choices—it’s impossible to see everything in two weeks—but honestly, we’re *really* happy with our route. We even saw more than we expected!

So, ready 😉? Here we go!

DAY 1 – Arrival in San José

After a smooth Zürich-Frankfurt-San José flight, we finally made it to San José 😎!! After months of planning and excitement, we’re here! Since we’d booked a 4x4 with the ToutCostaRica agency for the next day, we stayed at one of their hotels, the Melrost. One of their agents was there to pick us up at the airport and take us to the hotel, which is really close. It was early evening, and it was already dark, so no exploring the city tonight. We treated ourselves to a first local beer on the terrace, listening to the birds, and then headed straight to bed.

Hotel Melrost: A simple little building, but super convenient for just one night in San José (well, Alajuela) before moving on. The room was great, and breakfast was excellent!



DAY 2 – Off to Tortuguero

This morning, we had a meet-up at the hotel with ToutCostaRica, where we’d rented our 4x4. They held a briefing in small groups for all the car renters to discuss our routes, tips, the country, and other advice. We found it interesting, but *way* too long! They could’ve kept it shorter—reminding us to wear sunscreen in the sun and not to leave valuables in the car seems pretty obvious... Anyway, after a while, we thanked them for all the advice and set off in our brand-new Toyota Rav4! The rental went perfectly with TCR—everything was great. After leaving the traffic jams of San José behind, we hit some pretty little roads (some in better shape than others) until we reached La Pavona. There, we left our car in a guarded parking lot and took a boat (departure at 3:00 PM) to Tortuguero on the Caribbean coast. Just the boat ride was amazing—we were lucky enough to spot a basilisk, iguanas, and tons of birds. After 40 minutes, we docked right at the pier of our hotel, Casa Marbella. After dropping off our stuff in the room, we headed out to explore the village via its one main street. Lively, colorful, and hot! Since we didn’t have anything else planned for the day, we went back to the hotel terrace to enjoy a juice by the canals. Then, a quick dinner and off to bed to be fresh for tomorrow morning!

Casa Marbella: Really nice, with a convenient pier/terrace for arriving and leaving by boat. Breakfast was absolutely delicious! The room was good, though the AC wasn’t working.





More to come soon!
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In the Land of Mountain Gorillas: The Story of an "Epic" Trip
Passionate about travel, animals (furry, feathered, scaly), and my partner’s love for photography, it was in 2014, after encountering orangutans in Gunung Leuser National Park in Sumatra, that I felt the urge to see other great apes in their natural habitat and in the wild. For my 40th birthday, I dreamed of only one thing... seeing gorillas. I still had four years to wait and four years to save up.

At the time, I had only heard of the Virunga Mountains, particularly the part in Rwanda. To be honest, Uganda had never really struck me as a destination I’d ever set foot in, and the DRC, for security reasons, didn’t particularly appeal to me.

But then, one day, I heard that Rwanda was going to increase the price of gorilla permits to USD 1,500 per person. Ouch... that seemed way overpriced, especially since we were going as a couple and I really wanted to see them twice. $6,000 for two days... Okay, it’s for my 40th birthday, but still...

At the end of 2017, I started looking more closely into our trip planned for December 2018. A stroke of luck in my schedule meant my former English teacher sent me a link to an article she’d written for her travel agency about her encounter with gorillas in Uganda. Hmm, Uganda? It was the first time I’d read about the country. Why not?

I scoured various forums in French and English and re-discovered voyageforum.com. And most importantly, I came across Ticapi’s travel journal, which I devoured in one evening, and a few months later, Muriel18’s, whose release I eagerly awaited. Wow!!! Not only can you see gorillas in Uganda, but also chimpanzees and the shoebill, not to mention the savannah and the chance to go on more classic safaris.

All that’s left is to convince my better half that Uganda is a safe country...

Usually, and now more than ever, we prefer independent travel and self-drive trips in particular. But given the proximity to the DRC border, the potentially impassable roads after rain, and rental cars that aren’t always in the best condition, we hired a guide for two weeks in December 2018. The months passed, and the excitement grew.

Three weeks before departure, I fell ill after a work trip to Asia. Darn! This time, I didn’t waste any time—I quickly saw a doctor and got rid of that virus. That was the plan! Flu or malaria? (I’d been to the Amazon six months earlier.) The doctor didn’t know; the cough only appeared a few days later. We did blood tests two days in a row to rule out malaria. So it was the flu or... pneumonia :-( ...?

The X-rays spoke for themselves—it was pneumonia, and it was already quite advanced. No big deal, I still had two weeks to recover! I religiously took my antibiotics, downed loads of vitamin C, but nothing worked—the antibiotics didn’t seem to be doing anything. I was coughing so hard I thought my lungs would come up, I was short of breath, exhausted. I’d dreamed of this trip for so long... it seemed unthinkable not to go. Five days before departure, my doctor hospitalized me—the pneumonia had worsened, and my blood oxygen levels were dangerously low. I was in tears but still in denial about what was happening to me. Besides, I’d still taken my anti-malarial, because I was determined to leave.

I spent the first day in the emergency room on oxygen 24/7. The germ causing my pneumonia was unknown to the infectious disease and pulmonary specialists. They tried a combination of antibiotics. No big deal, in four days, I’d be leaving. I harassed the doctor, who must have thought I was crazy, to find out when I could be discharged—"because, you see, doctor, I have a flight to Uganda on Saturday." On Thursday, the doctor was firm: I’d still be hospitalized on Saturday... deep down, I knew it but didn’t want to admit it. My partner handled canceling the flights, contacted our travel insurance (thankfully we had some), and I wrote to our guide (who, in the meantime, had become our tour operator) who could hardly believe it. And neither could I! We told ourselves it was just postponed and that we’d take this long-awaited trip at the end of 2019!

March 2019, the tour operator reached out to us: "Didn’t you say you wanted to go to Uganda this year? You’d better hurry and book the gorilla permits before they run out."

Oh yes, we wanted to see the gorillas. But we hesitated about rebooking. I still hoped to do this trip as a self-drive. The thing is, this year, we managed to take three weeks off, and we also wanted to spend a week in Rwanda. My partner still didn’t feel comfortable driving there. Yet, he’s driven all over the world. I respected his feelings, especially since he’s the only one who drives.

Anyway, we went back and forth but neither of us really said what we were thinking: "What if we used someone else to organize our trip?" In the end, we went with him again, made a first deposit for four gorilla permits (two days each) (not the best idea we’ve ever had), and looked into adding Rwanda to our itinerary. We’d have a guide/driver for the whole trip with mid-range accommodations.

After several back-and-forths, the itinerary was supposed to look something like this. To be honest, I got fed up after a while.

Day 1: Arrival in Kigali in the evening Day 2: Transfer from Kigali to Akagera NP Day 3: Safari in Akagera NP Day 4: Akagera NP and night in Nyagatare Day 5: Transfer from Nyagatare to Nyungwe Forest Day 6: Nyungwe Day 7: Nyungwe Day 8: Transfer from Nyungwe to Lake Kivu, Rubavu/Gisenyi Day 9: Transfer from Rubavu/Gisenyi to Kisoro/Uganda via the Cyanika border Day 10: Gorilla tracking in Mgahinga NP Day 11: Golden Monkey tracking in Mgahinga NP, night at Lake Mutanda Day 12: Gorilla tracking in Bwindi, Ruhija (later changed to Rushaga) Day 13: Queen Elizabeth NP, Ishasha sector in the morning and Kazinga Channel in the afternoon Day 14: No clear answer on activities for that day. After three attempts, I gave up. I shouldn’t have... Day 15: Chimpanzee tracking in Kyambura Gorge, night at Lake Nkuruba Day 16: Lake Nkuruba, morning activities around the lake and Bigodi Swamps in the afternoon Day 17: Transfer from Lake Nkuruba to Murchison Falls Day 18: Murchison Falls Day 19: Murchison Falls Day 20: Transfer from Murchison Falls via Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary, night in Entebbe Day 21: Entebbe – Mabamba Swamps Day 22: Mabamba Swamps in the morning, Botanical Garden in Entebbe in the afternoon, and transfer to the airport for the overnight return flight.

In April, he asked us for a substantial deposit for the accommodations and some park activities, as one of his colleagues was doing the same tour in May and it would be good if he could secure the already-made reservations by paying the bill.

A week before departure, just like in 2018, we paid the remaining balance of the agreed amount. Three days later, since I hadn’t heard from him (the TO is based in Germany), I sent him a message to confirm he’d received the payment.

My partner joked, "And that’s when he tells us he closed the account we sent the money to." I forced a laugh... and even more so when the TO asked me which account I’d sent the balance to... "Uh, the same one as before." And then he told me he’d closed that account and maybe should’ve mentioned it earlier... uh, you think?! And of course, he needed the money sent again quickly. "Well, buddy, you’ll have to wait until I get it back!!!

It was already late, and my bank had been closed for hours. The next morning, first thing, I called my bank and explained the situation.

"Unfortunately, we can’t do anything for you; you’ll have to wait for the money to be returned." "But how long will that take?" "A few days or weeks, depending on the banks, and you should expect transfer fees."

Brilliant! :-(

After nearly 10 years of traveling almost exclusively without traditional travel agencies, had we just been scammed? I went back to the forums to reread posts about this TO from other travelers. They were all positive; no one mentioned a scam.

The next day, I searched online for the contact details of his bank in Germany. I wrote to the generic email address in English, explaining that I’d made a transfer without knowing that this gentleman had closed his bank account. The employee replied in impeccable English that the bank only responded to emails written in German. Grrr! I used a well-known translator since my German is, let’s say, rusty, and resent my email in German. The same agent replied in German that unfortunately, they couldn’t do anything for me—that if the account had been closed, an automatic rule would return the money to the sender... period, end of story!

Well, our money is lost somewhere in the "cloud," or so we hope! Wait and see!

No news from our TO, and we didn’t reach out either—we were too annoyed by the whole situation.
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From Ol Pejeta to Tsavo West (Kenya)
Hello everyone,

Here’s the story of our two-week trip—13 nights, actually—in the national parks of northern and southeastern Kenya, which we took last September at the end of summer. My wife and I planned this trip with a French agency (Bel Africa, Paris), which worked with a local operator in Nairobi (Nadhy Travels & Tours). The latter provided a driver-guide and vouchers, but no aperitif🙁! Our all-inclusive package included animal safaris exclusively in a customized 4x4 vehicle (with a pop-up roof) and accommodations in high-quality lodges that we selected ourselves. It’s great for comfort, but not so much for the wallet. The cost was obviously astronomical for the services provided. But that’s just my usual take on lodging in East and Southern Africa! Our itinerary was a loop starting and ending in Nairobi, passing through Ol Pejeta, Buffalo Springs-Samburu, Meru NP, Amboseli, and Tsavo West.

Trip breakdown:

Day 1 to 3: Ol Pejeta Day 3 to 7: Buffalo Springs Day 7 to 8: Meru NP-Nairobi Day 9 to 11: Nairobi-Amboseli Day 11 to 14: Tsavo West

Photo gear we brought:

- 1 bridge camera - 2 DSLR bodies - 2 telephoto lenses: 70-200mm f/2.8 and 200-500mm f/5.6 - 2 pairs of 10x42 binoculars

What motivated this trip? We wanted to recharge and were looking for a certain tranquility that would be ideal for wildlife observation and photography—our hobbies. That immediately ruled out the parks in the southwest, which are too crowded. Plus, those would have likely been a repeat of what we experienced in Tanzania a few years earlier (see my travel journal "The Great Migration"). Buffalo Springs particularly appealed to us because of the unique animal species it’s home to. It was really their existence that drove our choices. We wanted to see animals we’d never seen before in their natural habitats.

So, on a beautiful late-summer evening, we took off from Paris-CDG for Nairobi. The overnight flight was uneventful, and we landed early in the morning at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (NBO). But our driver-guide wasn’t waiting for us. Judging by the number of signs being held up, we must have been the only travelers in that situation. Good grief, why wasn’t he there like all the others?
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Mimi and Maumau, Martine and DD Return! Or the Denver-Denver Loop of the 4 Friends
Hello! 🙂

In 2017, struck by western addiction, our first road trip gave us an irresistible urge to return, which we did from September 2nd to 24th, 2019, on a loop from Denver to Denver via Yellowstone. The westernmost point of this journey, which took us through the geographical center of the USA, brought us within about a hundred kilometers of Moab, which had been the easternmost point of our last trip.

We’ve been back for over a month now, and I realize I’m starting to forget some details—it’s high time I started my travel journal before my brain turns into Swiss cheese and lets everything slip away. As I mentioned in my last story, it’ll take me quite a while to finish, so if any travelers have specific questions, don’t hesitate to message me privately. Once again, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me (and there were many!) prepare our road trip, with a special shout-out to Disneydiddl, Hiacinthe, and Titou (ladies first) as well as Fred and Itat, whom I bombarded with questions for months and who always kindly and patiently gave me tons of great tips. It’s thanks to all of you that this trip was such a success. I was a little worried I wouldn’t recapture the emotion and enthusiasm of our 2017 trip, but this one was just as "Wow" as the last.

For those who don’t know us, let me introduce our little group. We’re four friends in our sixties (this time, everyone made it, which let us score some "senior" discounts...). We live in the Var region, have known each other for over 20 years, and this was our second trip together to this magical West.

Mimi (Michèle): always the smallest and the funniest. Thank goodness she was there to speak English! Maumau (Maurice): her husband, always with his white hair, his Gallic mustache, his humor, and his Southern accent. He drove every other day. DD (André): the one with the beard, with whom I celebrated our 41st wedding anniversary at Yellowstone. Our second driver appreciated having a peaceful mind since he’s been retired since July. Marcalamar (Martine): that’s me—still blonde with glasses, still talking a lot, and still terrified of messing up the organization of this trip despite all the hours spent on the forum.

Recognize us? Ha ha ha!!!! No, just kidding!!!! That’s us!!!

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Between Réunion and Nosy Bé
Saturday, September 28, 2019

On the Orly-Saint-Denis flight, under the pretext that Air France had paired their delicious chicken with mushrooms meal with a little bottle of rum, Dom noticed that some passengers hadn’t even opened theirs. So he bribed a flight attendant to bring him the abandoned mini bottles! Needless to say, the guy slept like a baby!



Sunday, September 29, 2019 Saint-Pierre

A flawless journey (well, except for a minor distraction in the massive Hertz queue that led me to cut in front of a few young couples, who weren’t too happy about it—though I joked with the agent about it: *"It happens!"*). We ended up at Hôtel Le Battant des Lames in Saint-Pierre, a gorgeous combo of an infinity pool and the Indian Ocean. We rushed straight into the pool—after over ten hours of sitting on a plane, it felt *amazing*!



We didn’t waste any time—you know Dom—exploring the city on foot. It’s lovely: the seaside is well-developed, it’s tropical, but with the budget of a wealthy country.



Réunion is also famous for its killer sharks…



A Creole music group was playing at a seaside bar, so we settled in.



Night fell, and with it, swarms of insects suddenly invaded the city!



One of the few signs of the tropics here! Insects, geckos, and cockroaches...



Monday, September 30, 2019

Saint-Pierre



We were disappointed, of course! We could’ve gotten a photo of our *aura* and missed the chance by just a week! In tears, we decided to tackle the island’s most famous site.

Excursion to Piton de la Fournaise. The plan was to head to one of the nearby parking lots and take a relaxed stroll. But it quickly turned into… something else.

First, I realized the built-in GPS operates on a pretty basic algorithm—like the earliest models. If there’s a bumpy road that even the toughest Mitsubishi 4x4 struggles with, a path through a junkyard, or any shortcut to save a few meters, it’ll proudly suggest it. So instead of taking the main road—the royal route to the famous volcano—we ended up on charming little mountain roads…



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Our Trip to the Philippines (February 2019)
Hello everyone,

We (3 adults: 68, 65, and 25 years old) are just back from a short trip to the Philippines, and I’d like to share a little summary of our journey. First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who contributes to this forum about this destination and answers the questions of those who aren’t familiar with it. I should also mention that my comments are personal and don’t reflect anyone else’s opinions. Since I don’t have any literary or photographic talent, I’ll stick to the facts and share a few details about the sights, hotels, and restaurants.

Preparations: We chose this destination in December and quickly booked our flight tickets (540 € with Turkish Airlines) for a departure on February 16 and return on March 5, 2019. We then contacted two French-speaking tour operators based in Manila, asking them to put together an itinerary based on our wishes (places to visit, type of accommodation) and our budget. We wanted to see the rice terraces in northern Luzon, the hanging coffins in Sagada, before flying to the Visayas (Bohol, Siquijor, etc.), and the Taal Volcano, while limiting our nights in Manila as much as possible. In the end, we opted for Alize, whose itinerary and quote matched our request almost perfectly. Our exchanges helped us refine our circuit.

International flights: The round-trip flights went smoothly. Turkish Airlines, while not at the level of Asian or Gulf airlines, does the job just fine.

Day 1: We landed on time (6:15 PM) on Monday, February 16, at Terminal 3. We exchanged our euros (near the car rental counters), and I can confirm the exchange rate was very good. On the way to the St. Giles Hotel (decent and affordable for a transit night), we got our first glimpse of Manila’s dense traffic. The Makati district, where our hotel was located, offers a wide choice of restaurants, so we grabbed a quick bite to recover from the trip.

Day 2: This day was dedicated to transferring to Banaue. Fortunately, we had a comfortable van and an excellent driver for this journey, which took all day (8 to 9 hours with stops). We got a taste of driving in the Philippines—and it’s terrifying. You wouldn’t want to drive on these roads. The first thing that struck us was the relatively good condition of the roads and the cleanliness (a change from other Southeast Asian countries). This impression lasted throughout our trip. Around 6 PM, we checked into our room at the Banaue Hotel (large, charm-free, but with a beautiful view of the rice terraces).

Day 3: With the help of a local guide, we took a jeepney to Batad. And then—wow! The rice terraces form an amphitheater overlooking the small village. Under the sun, it’s simply spectacular and breathtaking! Even though we’re familiar with rice terraces (Sapa, Bali, Thailand, etc.), we were dazzled by so much beauty. We spent the day walking along the terrace walls. This place is timeless and fully deserves its UNESCO World Heritage status. However, we returned to the hotel exhausted (due to our ages and lack of exercise). We had dinner with our driver at the Las Vegas restaurant in the center of Banaue. The meal was decent, cheap, and the Filipino owner played the guitar to accompany our dinner.

Day 4: Today, our driver took us to Sagada. The mountain road offered spectacular landscapes (about 1.5 to 2 hours). Along the way, we stopped in Bontoc to visit the small but interesting anthropological museum. It features old photos and various objects from the Ifugao tribes, as well as a reconstruction of primitive dwellings. We then went on a short hike in Sagada with a very friendly local guide who explained the region’s funeral rites. The walk started at the communal cemetery before reaching “Echo Valley,” where we saw the first coffins hanging on the cliff. We continued to the “Underground River” and a small waterfall, ending our journey in the “Lumiang Cave” burial cave. All in all, this day was very interesting. On the way back, we made a few photo stops. In the evening, on our driver’s recommendation, we ate at the “Bistro,” a French enclave in the center of Banaue (good pizza, roasted quail, homemade fries).

Day 5: Today was a transfer day. To limit fatigue and nights in Manila, our tour operator arranged a flight from Clark to Tagbilaran (Bohol), saving us 2 to 3 hours of driving. But to catch our flight, we had to leave very early: 5:30 AM. Our kind driver dropped us off on time at the airport. To use it, we had to pay a 150 PHP tax per person. The Philippine Airlines flight (15 minutes) left early and was far from full. Upon arrival, we were taken to the Loboc River Hotel, on the banks of the river of the same name. A very charming lodge lost in a tropical garden. We stayed in a stilt cottage overlooking the river. We relaxed a bit in the lovely pool. This place is really great—the staff is charming, and the food is excellent for a reasonable price.

Day 6: This day was dedicated to exploring Bohol. The program was classic, starting with the tarsier sanctuary. We saw a few specimens in a small garden, each pointed out by a staff member. It was both good and disappointing because the animals were in pseudo-freedom in a small enclosure. Then we went to the “Chocolate Hills” and climbed 240 steps to admire the panoramic view of the hills—but by 10 AM, it was crowded. On the way back, we stopped at the butterfly garden, which was uninteresting: tiny, with few butterflies. We consoled ourselves by photographing beautiful flowers. To please our teen, we stopped at the Loboc Eco Tourism Adventure Park and crossed the river lying down, suspended from a steel cable (300 PHP). Finally, we had the traditional lunch-cruise on the Loboc River. It was a factory-like experience, and the meal was unremarkable. The only good thing was the singer on each boat and the lush vegetation. Afterward, we visited colonial churches and the cathedral, remnants of the Spanish presence, before returning to the hotel for a well-deserved dip in the pool. Note that for those interested, there’s an arena near the hotel where cockfights are held every Sunday—something Filipinos are passionate (if not obsessed) about.

Day 8: Very early departure for the port. We boarded a *banca* in search of dolphins. After about an hour of sailing, we were lucky enough to spot around a hundred dolphins. Our boat then headed to the small and charming island of Pamilacan. After a walk through the little village, we came across locals traditionally building a boat. They told us it takes about a month to finish their outrigger boat. Then we had to choose our snorkeling spot between the coral garden, the fish park, and the turtle enclosure. Note that a fee is charged for each spot: 150 PHP per place and per person. It felt a bit like we were being ripped off, especially since the spots weren’t amazing—we’d see much better on Apo for much less. We had lunch on the island at one of the many small eateries (350 PHP per person).

Days 9 and 10: On our return, we were taken to the Bohol Sea Resort on Panglao Island, where we stayed for 2 nights. It’s a small, recent establishment in a quiet corner of the island. It’s relaxing—maybe a bit too much. It has a nice pool and access to Danao Beach, but the view is blocked by a flotilla of boats. We didn’t try their diving school. The meals were good. If we had to do it again, we’d skip this stop to spend more time in Negros.

Days 11 and 12: We took a fast ferry (Ocean Jet) from Tagbilaran port to Dumaguete and were taken to the Thalatta Resort, about 20 km away near Zamboanguita. We stayed there for 2 nights. Let’s just say it was our favorite. It’s a small place facing Apo Island. The rooms are simple, and the pool, nestled in a magnificent tropical garden, is fantastic. The staff is friendly, and the meals are very good. The hotel has its own diving center (snorkeling gear provided) and its own boats. We booked the Apo Island excursion: 1,350 PHP per person, including lunch. It was incredible: magnificent corals, colorful fish, and turtles of all sizes. The crew was endlessly kind and didn’t hesitate to dive to guide us to the best spots. In short, a perfect day. This site is ranked among the top 5 diving spots in the Philippines. Since we were lucky enough to be there on a Wednesday morning, we explored the surprising Malapay Market, a 10-minute walk from our hotel. You’ll find numerous stalls selling vegetables, fruits, live or dried fish, and handicrafts. Enclosures are set up for selling livestock (calves, zebu, pigs). There are also restaurants. We were lucky to see two pigs roasted traditionally on a spit. There are few Europeans, and the people are warm. A great moment. We left this beautiful place with regret because we didn’t have time to visit the island or go swimming with whale sharks.

Days 12 to 15: From Dumaguete port, we took a short crossing (1 hour with Ocean Jet) to Siquijor Island to reach the Coco Grove Beach Resort. A beautiful hotel nestled in a spacious tropical garden. Several restaurants and bars, 4 pools. Despite the size of the place, it remains intimate. You can snorkel (corals and fish) right in front of the beautiful beach. We stayed in a very pleasant duplex suite. For those interested, there’s a spa and a diving center. You can also take the Apo Island excursion (offered at 1,950 PHP). We spent our days relaxing between the pool and the beach. In the evening, the sunsets over Negros and Apo were stunning. We booked an island tour with a comfortable tricycle from the hotel (1,500 PHP). The circuit was classic and allowed us to go around the island. We discovered beaches, the famous 400-year-old ficus tree with its enormous roots, and its equally famous foot bath with its cleaning fish. Then we visited the St. Isidore Convent before heading to the Cambugahay waterfalls and their four pools. The setting is idyllic, and the water is surprisingly good—we had a lot of fun swimming. We had dinner at a restaurant overlooking the island, where you can see Apo, Cebu, and Negros. In the end, Siquijor turned out to be a real little tropical paradise. Since the hotel restaurants were expensive, we dined at nearby establishments: Fuego (clean, good—excellent raw fish—and quiet), Chekesch (louder), and the very pleasant Baha Bar, which brews its own beer and offers more refined cuisine.

Days 15 to 16: We left at dawn to return to Dumaguete and its airport by ferry. We had breakfast at the Coco Grande Hotel, an annex of the previous one. The Philippine Airlines flight went smoothly. A driver took us to the town of Taal. We stayed at Paradores Del Castillo, right in the heart of the old town. It’s a charming old house with only 6 rooms. The various rooms are decorated with antiques—a real little museum. The garden is pleasant and opens onto the town. It’s an old early 19th-century house converted into a hotel, beautifully arranged with 6 rooms in the heart of the city. The restaurant in the garden is very pleasant and offers a panoramic view. We visited an old Spanish house before heading to the beautiful Basilica of St. Martin of Tours, one of the most beautiful religious buildings in the Philippines. A mass was in progress, allowing us to gauge the Filipinos’ fervor before we could visit. When we left, it was dark, and we could admire the illuminated building. We ended our evening by exploring the night market with its many fruit and skewer stalls. A nice surprise. In the morning, we were taken to the shores of Taal Lake, an ancient caldera where a second volcano has formed in the middle of the lake, which in turn contains another lake. We boarded a *banca* to reach the island in the middle of the lake. This was followed by an uphill walk, made difficult by the high temperature (36°C) and the dust on the path. The dust was worsened by the many horses carrying (or bringing back) the less courageous. To illustrate the difficulty of the climb, the trail is marked by the Stations of the Cross and its 14 stations. We were panting while our guide trotted far ahead. Our effort was rewarded when we reached the summit and its viewpoints over the inner lake and the surroundings. The wisps of smoke seen here and there confirmed we were on an active volcano. Inside the lake, there are supposedly 45 small volcanoes, one of which emerged during its last eruption in 1911. On the way back, we had lunch by the lake before returning to Manila and the Bayleaf Hotel, whose main merit is its location in the Intramuros district. In the late afternoon, we walked along the walls of the old city. We had dinner on the hotel’s panoramic terrace overlooking the city and the bay.

Day 17: Last day! Our tour operator joined us for a tour of the Intramuros district. He enriched the visit with comments on the history, geopolitics, and economy of the Philippines. We visited the Manila Cathedral, destroyed 7 times in the past (6 earthquakes and the 1945 bombing). It’s beautiful, and its stained glass is magnificent. We couldn’t enter the San Agustin Church, the oldest Catholic building in Manila. We passed by the memorial to the Battle of Manila, which claimed over 100,000 lives. We visited the area around Casa Manila, which was closed on Monday, and had a drink at Barbara’s cabaret, located in a historic house. A very enriching morning. Then we went to the Mall of Asia, the world’s largest shopping mall, to buy some souvenirs (Kultura store) before being taken to the airport. We exchanged our last pesos at the buying rate right after check-in. The return flight went smoothly. We regretted not being able to use the facilities of Istanbul’s new airport, as its opening was delayed by another month.

Finances: In the end, we spent 1,640 € for the international flights, 4,200 € for the stay (hotels, visits, various transports) with the agency (whose professionalism we can only praise), and about 700 € for meals, tips, and souvenirs.

Summary: Luckily, we had beautiful weather throughout our stay, with temperatures between 26 and 35°C. Discovering the Philippines was a wonderful experience. The diversity of the landscapes, the kindness of the Filipinos, the cleanliness, and the truly delicious fruits (especially pineapples and mangoes). We were never harassed, unlike in many touristy countries. On the other hand, the food, though generally cheap, wasn’t exceptional. Since this country is so vast, we might return in the near future.

Though I’m not a specialist on this destination, I’m happy to answer your questions based on my experience.
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In Search of Warmth in California, Utah, and Arizona in February
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...
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The Moluccas: Splendors (and Struggles) of an Archipelago Unknown to Tourists
Hello everyone!

This travel journal aims to help future travelers (well, I hope so!), since there’s so little information available about this remote archipelago. Big thanks to Lolodesiles and Ayis for answering my questions while I planned this trip!



Context This is our fourth trip to Indonesia as a couple—after Java-Bali in 2011, Flores-Komodo in 2013, and Sulawesi in 2016—each time for three weeks. It’s also our tenth trip to Southeast Asia overall.

We’re traveling like we have in previous years: with a rough itinerary that often changes based on who we meet, tips from other travelers, how tired we are, or what we’re feeling in the moment. In the Moluccas, it’ll change constantly, mostly depending on transportation.

Our only accommodation booking: the first few nights in Ambon when we arrive.

Planned route (to be refined on the spot): Ambon - Banda Islands - Lease Islands - Ternate - Tidore - Halmahera (between Sofifi and Tobelo) - Morotai and the neighboring unnamed archipelago.

Flights: Lyon-Paris-Singapore on Air France (428 € round-trip), with good meals, champagne, and wine (we like our little comforts when going on vacation 😏). Then Singapore-Jakarta-Ambon on Air Asia and Garuda. Return flight: Ternate-Jakarta-Singapore on Lion Air, with a 3-day stopover in Singapore before heading home.

Episode 1: Ambon to Banda Our guesthouse, booked two days before departure, is 45 minutes from Ambon Airport, near Natsepa Beach (northeast of Leihitu). It’s a pretty average beach—quiet on weekdays but packed on Sundays (we saw the difference). It’s lined with warungs. This rainy day helps us readjust to the atmosphere of this country we love so much.

Our “Solim Guesthouse” is a lovely house with a living/dining room and garden, costing 15 € per night for two, including a hearty breakfast. Dinner is at Gaba Gaba, a great restaurant just a short walk away, right by the water, recommended by our host. Fun fact: it’s in the Lonely Planet, and it might be the only LP-listed spot in the Moluccas that actually matches the description (the others either don’t exist or have nothing to do with what’s advertised 😠).

For the next two days, the super-friendly owner lends us his scooter. We set off to explore the coastal villages in northern Leihitu (the western part of Ambon Island, which has a weird shape). Laundry and trucks washed in the same stream.

Liang Beach, described as the island’s most beautiful, is almost gone (climate change or something else?), but the colors are magical.

We continue 25 km toward a snorkeling spot our host recommended, taking a gorgeous, deserted little road through tiny villages in clove plantations (oh, those unforgettable scents!), stunning coves, and dense forest.



We’re greeted dozens of times with “Hello Mister”—a daily routine in the Moluccas. Every time we stop, we pose for photos to be saved on locals’ smartphones. They don’t see tourists often.



We ask for directions to the snorkeling spot (not easy—we only know basic Indonesian like *Selamat pagi*, *siang*, *sore*, and other polite phrases). Not many people know where it is (especially since we never know which village we’re in), but we eventually reach a small village that seems to be the right place. 🙂



We ask a local to take us there by boat (it’s not reachable by land).



The spot is at most 100 meters long, but the coral is in good condition (apparently not dynamited by fishermen, unlike in other parts of this beautiful country where fishing methods are destructive and nature pays the price 😠). The fish are plentiful and diverse. It’s a great start before heading to Banda. We’re happy to have the place to ourselves… though we don’t yet realize we won’t see a single tourist for the rest of the trip!

After two days of rest, we head to Tulehu Port in the morning, aiming for the Banda Islands. We know the journey is often tricky: the Pelni ferry runs twice a month but doesn’t match our dates, the 10-seat Suzi Air plane is always full (you can’t book—you have to show up on Mondays and Fridays), and it’s often canceled due to weather. So we opt for the Tuesday speedboat (which also gets canceled if there are waves or wind), with the next one on Saturday. We’re used to Indonesian ports—crowded, rusty boats, no English speakers—but we still feel lost. When I ask about the speedboat to Bandaneira, people gesture wildly, someone takes me to the “harbor office,” then tells me there’s no boat, others try to sell me tickets, and some just say, “No boat.”



Luckily, an English-speaking local approaches us and confirms the speedboat is broken. The next one will be Saturday *if* it’s fixed—otherwise, even later. 🤪 😠 We’re crushed. We came here for the Banda Islands… 🙁 We decide waiting five days for a maybe-boat isn’t an option, so we decide to head straight to North Moluccas, which was planned for later. We’re so disappointed we don’t even want to stay in the area. The Lease Islands don’t appeal to us despite what we’ve read, and Seram would deserve its own trip with its remote mountain tribes. Huge disappointment—we’d been dreaming of Banda for months, with its incredible drop-offs like Bunaken, its islands covered in nutmeg trees, etc. I’d read that Banda is in the world’s top 5, alongside Bunaken (amazing—we went in 2016), Komodo (incredible—we went in 2013), Sipadan, and another spot I’ve forgotten.

We take a taxi back to Ambon (45 minutes) to a travel agency to buy plane tickets to Ternate. There’s a daily ATR72 flight at noon—perfect timing. Ambon is the capital of South Moluccas (or Central, depending on who you ask!) with 300,000 people. The city doesn’t seem unpleasant, but we don’t stop. On the plane, there are only about ten passengers for 72 seats. The flight attendants are stunning, as always with Wings Air—clearly, they’re hired for their looks. 😊



Stopover in Bacan—a runway in the middle of coconut trees serving a tiny town—then we fly over countless volcanoes, the last one towering over Ternate.

Next episode coming soon: Ternate.
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Our family trip from Denver to Yellowstone – a recap
Hi there,

I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.

First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!

We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning. And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.

For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.

Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.

With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
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Byzantine Escape... 4 Days in Istanbul
Byzantium... Constantinople... Istanbul... Three names that were bound to be synonymous with wonderful promises... Three names for a single city... and what a city!!!



It promised things to see, to admire, a dive into the past, culture, the wonders of the 1001 Nights... AND IT DELIVERED!!! And honestly, 4 days is already great but far from enough!!! For those who might be hesitant (rightfully so) to go to Istanbul given the current climate, I’d say they’re wrong... I felt safer there than in my own city!! I went with my husband and kids and I’d do it again without a second thought!! I’d start by saying that 4 days gives a good overview—we almost did everything on foot (I made enemies in my own family...), noses in the air, 20 km a day... BUT 4 DAYS IS NOT ENOUGH AT ALL!!! That’s settled!

We flew with Turkish Airlines, Lyon to Istanbul direct—very good, nothing to complain about. We rented an apartment via Airbnb in Balat for 5 nights / 400 €—a completely renovated apartment in a typical wooden house in the neighborhood, like a dacha. The owner was super nice and let us have two apartments (since nothing was booked)—one for us parents, one for the teens!!! So, the Balat neighborhood was a deliberate choice on my part—I didn’t want to stay where the tourists were, so we sort of exiled ourselves to the old Orthodox quarter, very much in its own juice, and we loved it!!! But I’m not sure I’d recommend it... wooden houses, many still in ruins, winding cobbled streets, cats, kids playing in the street, cats, the bread vendor in the morning pushing his cart and shouting, cats, old men lined up outside on their chairs drinking coffee (the famous Turkish coffee—don’t stir it... if you like it...!), grandmas in black, dogs, chickens... it felt surreal, timeless, like we’d stepped into 1920s post-war... so opposite from the modern Istanbul waking up. Here, it was a real movie set... So disorienting and timeless that when we gave the address to a taxi driver at 11 PM, he said, "Oh no, I’m not taking you there—every time I go, I get lost..." Well, that’s what it *seemed* like he said. The second driver wasn’t any better... we don’t speak Turkish, but it was pretty clear!! My kids found it very encouraging: "Where are you taking us??? It must be super sketchy... but hey, dying in Istanbul is way more exotic than in Lyon!!" So when the third driver said "OK," we didn’t negotiate at all!! And we said thank you!! He got lost once, twice, grumbling and sighing, asked an old man out for a nighttime stroll, and we found it!!



Exploring the neighborhood the next morning while shopping for breakfast, I was really glad I’d made that choice—the area was perfect!! A mix of past and present where Orthodox and Muslims coexist without issue (at least from our Western tourist perspective). A colorful neighborhood between ruins and rebirth, between two centuries. So we wandered the area, got lost... found our way, got lost again... Our host had explained where to buy a bus pass and how it worked, so we did that, but to start, we decided to walk to the center along the Golden Horn. Well, I sold the idea to the whole tribe... they fell for it once, not twice!! We took (still on foot) Atatürk Bridge, crossed the Bosphorus, and wandered through the little streets up to Galata Tower. We had a great view from the bridge, and also from the tower, which I highly recommend. And since it was Friday at noon, we got to hear the call to prayer from all the mosques—total culture shock! The view is magical: mosques, minarets, the Bosphorus, and on the other side, Asia. Instant love for this city!!



It’s a very lively, touristy neighborhood too. They say it’s the modern side of Istanbul, but it’s kept its soul. We were immediately struck by the cultural and religious contrasts, and it was buzzing in a great atmosphere. Veiled women sitting on terraces with their friends, made-up and in miniskirts—everything seemed to coexist harmoniously. The whole trip, we felt completely safe and never oppressed. We saw a dynamic, free-spirited youth, but maybe that’s just the tourist perspective, and we’re well aware the situation could change... We wandered through the Beyoğlu and Galatasaray districts up to Taksim Square, between churches and mosques, little streets, alleys, covered markets where Zara rubs shoulders with century-old shops. My only regret is not spending two days there—it’ll be an excuse to come back... We devoured three pieces of Turkish delight and kept going, descending this time (BECAUSE ISTANBUL ISN’T FLAT!!) down to the Kabataş ferry terminal on the Bosphorus. I hadn’t planned a cruise, but given the price and the need to rest our feet, we opted for the boat. We took a 1.5-hour cruise and didn’t regret it—it was amazing! The view of the Bosphorus shores, stunning houses, palaces, wooden dachas—vestiges of the bourgeoisie. We passed 200-meter container ships, sailboats, speedboats, and dozens of dolphins—so exotic!!



We could’ve made stops (get off, visit, get back on the next boat), but we just let ourselves drift to the sound of seagulls, wondering which way we’d go back... So at the dock, we took a bus... a bit randomly, but we’d decided we needed to cross a bridge—lucky us, we did! We walked to the Spice Bazaar, ate in a little place—something spicy but not too much, with rice... for next to nothing. And on the way back, by sheer luck, I pulled out my guidebook, which mentioned not to miss Rüstem Pasha Mosque, a small mosque on the roof of the bazaar—it’s almost a stroke of luck to find it. We had it all to ourselves, with its beautiful carpet... my big crush. Nothing grandiose, but almost magical, and we were alone—it had the charm of the first time. I love Italian churches... but Istanbul’s mosques really don’t have anything to envy them! After that encounter, I added a bunch more to my itinerary—knowing there are nearly 2,800 mosques in Istanbul, we weren’t going home anytime soon!! And my son said, "I’m gonna end this trip in socks if I have to take off my shoes every time!!!"



The next day, still wandering blindly in our neighborhood, we went on foot to visit Chora Church (Kariye Museum), a Catholic church that was at the center of a monastery dating back to Roman times, with the first vestiges from the 6th century. It’s now a museum, and the magnificent golden mosaics are really worth the detour—a true little gem, just like the neighborhood, still a bit in its own juice but in full renaissance.





We reached the historic center via the grand boulevards, where shops selling tacky dresses line up one after another... not to mention the dozens of bridal shops (confirming the youth of the population... or that they get married often...). We visited Fatih Mosque, again all to ourselves—very beautiful, completely renovated.



Then Şehzade Mosque, and not far away, Laleli Mosque. My husband would say, "Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all..." That’s one point of view, but I never got tired of them. These are places with such serenity, so bright, white, vast, calm—I could’ve spent the whole day there. Pure architectural and spiritual masterpieces... but other mosques were waiting!! We arrived in the historic center of Sultanahmet, with the tourist buses... but that’s what we’re here for, right?! SO, Hagia Sophia... AYASOFYA... Byzantine jewel. I’ll spare you the history—everyone goes to Istanbul to see it. It’s a must: the star of Istanbul! I recommend the audio guides. From the outside, it’s a bit massive, not very pretty—to be honest, you’re lenient because the old lady isn’t exactly young. She started her journey in the 6th century. The inside is a bit disorienting—you immediately feel all the eras that have succeeded one another. So you’re not quite sure what you’ve come to see—a church, a mosque... it’s a museum!! But all the eras have, despite everything, respected the place, and the whole thing is very impressive and quite harmonious. I was expecting a tourist trap, but not at all—there was almost no one, and we wandered around, letting the place inspire us.





Since we were there, we moved on to the Blue Mosque: Sultan Ahmed Mosque... all the tourists were there... we waited in line, headscarves on, shoes in hand... all those people took away its charm and soul. 21,000 tiles, not so blue after all. It’s very beautiful, but not our favorite... though from the outside, it’s stunning and very photogenic.





But apparently, "Little Hagia Sophia," a bit further away, is really worth it and much less crowded. We didn’t go to the Basilica Cistern either, which tempted me so much, but there were too many people... Sultanahmet is full of ancestral treasures that make Istanbul’s charm and reputation, bearing witness to the past grandeur of this sublime city.

We headed back toward the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul... Aladdin, Scheherazade, sultans, favorites, and the 1001 Nights... it’s magical!! You can happily get lost in a maze of colors and scents, inside and out (less touristy and cheaper!!). Of course, there’s plenty to empty tourists’ wallets, but after doing the Moroccan souks several times—quite oppressive in my opinion—here, no pressure at all. We really felt great, surrounded by polite, kind, and smiling people. We found our happiness in magnets and other souvenirs... my daughter got two scarves, bracelets, and four husbands!!! At noon, it was packed; at 5 PM, no one... BUT personally, I preferred the Spice Market, located just behind Yeni Camii (oh, we didn’t visit that one...), the New Mosque on the Bosphorus. It’s smaller but better quality. We brought back jewelry, spices, bath towels (they don’t take up much space in a suitcase... but they’re so beautiful...). In short, we found what we were looking for... but that’s just our opinion....



Little walks on Galata Bridge with its fishermen, and we ended up eating a real kebab at the foot of the New Mosque—super good (and the spicy one is *really* spicy; the non-spicy one is too!!). We sat on the docks, watching the bustling city!

We took bus 99 back to Balat (because we’re *persona non grata* with the taxis!!)... And what’s great about Istanbul with the Turks is that, of course, they spotted us as loud French people. First, they saved us because we were going the wrong way, then on the bus, we were looking at the stops like: "Do you think we get off at this stop or the next one??" And every time, kind people approached us: "Ohh, you’re French! My brother-in-law works in Besançon—do you know Besançon?" "No..." "It’s nice, but it’s cold... I worked there for 3 years and then came back..." And just like that, every evening we made new friends!! They all have family in France... The first night, one even got off at the same stop as us and walked us back for fear we’d get lost "because tourists get lost in this area... taxis too, by the way!"... Don’t even get me started, my good man!!!

Day 3... After a good Turkish breakfast in our movie-set Balat-Fener, where cats, dogs, and grandpas wander (I love it +++), off we went on bus 99 toward Topkapı Palace... The 1001 Nights palace of the Ottoman sultan from the 15th to the 19th century... and its harem!!!! And we weren’t alone!! But it’s very well organized, and the audio guides are very useful. We all four loved it. We couldn’t help comparing it to the Alhambra in Andalusia... it’s less grandiose but still very beautiful. Very blue, very green, very beautiful! And very big... we spent 4 hours there dreaming of another time...



After a good meal on a terrace to rest our feet and digest the Turkish delight... we wandered the streets: headed to the hills to visit Süleymaniye Mosque: the mosque of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent!! You can’t miss it—perched on its hill, you see it from wherever you are in Istanbul!! We put our shoes in little lockers, put on our headscarves, stopped talking, and sat on the beautiful red carpet, enjoying the ambient tranquility... My daughter thought it was the prettiest. Huge, graceful, luminous, harmonious—a true jewel (of course, if you like mosques and haven’t overdosed!!)





We walked back down quietly through the surrounding little streets, thinking we’d enjoy it more next time...



We stopped by the Spice Bazaar again, just in case we’d forgotten something... And we got back at 6:30 PM to eat pastrami and local cheese in our dollhouse wooden home...

Last day... it’s raining... bummer... We took our bus again, and big day—we took the Marmarail metro to go TO ASIA!!! For teens and adults alike, it’s too fun!!! We’re easily amused! In one metro station, we changed continents... magical! It’s very modern, clean, and there was no one... We didn’t explore the entire Asian side, which deserves much more time than we gave it, but we made do with what we had... We toured Kadıköy—very nice, lively, very commercial. You can feel it waking up, lots of cool little shops. Given the weather, there were very few tourists—a very nice surprise. We had lunch at Ciya, famous for its Turkish specialties—it was delicious.

There’s a magnificent view of the Bosphorus and Sultanahmet—at sunset, it must be magical. We came back by boat to enjoy the view—no more rain, but a good wind in return... between tankers, seagulls, and dolphins!!



We crossed another beautiful maze of little commercial streets, bustling and full of history, reached the Grand Bazaar again—just in case we’d forgotten something... and because it was raining again... so a little tea in the warmth was always welcome. We bought baklava and Turkish delight from Afiz Mustafa for the grandparents who were looking after the dog... ate one last kebab, and went back to pack, stuffing our bath towels into bags that were too small... Tomorrow, the taxi comes to pick us up at 6 AM... if he finds the address!!!



I loved it... Actually, everyone loved Istanbul... I found it such a contrasted city—between modernity and tradition, past and present, so young, dynamic, optimistic, and smiling. Sure, it’s sometimes messy, ugly, not well-maintained, but that’s its charm—so authentic. And long may it last....
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Come discover Ireland with us
IRELAND - INTRODUCTION

We planned our 15-day trip to Ireland several months in advance to create an itinerary that would let us see a multitude of tourist attractions across various regions of the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.

We researched the main attractions in each region and noted their GPS coordinates.

After that, we used Google Maps to create a packed but realistic daily route. We printed all the itineraries, and they proved extremely useful since some attractions weren’t listed on the GPS a friend lent us, and some roads aren’t clearly marked.

This way, we were able to stick to our daily schedule.

Three months before our departure, we rented a car directly from Autoescape’s website for 136.44 € over 14 days. The rental was with BUDGET, and the car we got was a ŠKODA Citigo.

This rate includes unlimited mileage, collision damage waiver (CDW), theft protection (TP) with a 1,500 € excess, and unlimited third-party liability coverage.

Some roads in Ireland are very narrow, so a compact car is much appreciated. Don’t forget that driving is on the left, and there are plenty of roundabouts.

Luckily, my partner finds driving this way easy, and our travels went smoothly.

It’s worth mentioning how courteous and patient Irish drivers are—it’s truly phenomenal.

Two weeks before our trip, we booked our accommodations at various places like B&Bs, hotels, and university campuses through Hotels.com. We’ll talk more about each of them later.

When we arrived at Dublin Airport, going through customs was quite tedious. There are two lines: one for EU citizens and another for other foreigners. The wait for non-EU travelers is significantly longer.

The car rental isn’t directly at the terminal. You have to take a shuttle to the rental center. Once there, a company representative finalizes the contract and hands over the keys to our rental car.

And off we went on our adventure!

It’s also important to note that some roads have tolls. For most of them, you pay directly at a toll booth, and the fees are usually under 2 €.

However, the M50 motorway around Dublin works differently—it’s a prepaid toll. You’re charged when you drive between Junction 6 (N3 Blanchardstown) and Junction 7 (N4 Lucan). A large purple sign warns you as you approach one of these junctions.

Cameras automatically record your license plate, and fees are applied based on your vehicle category. For a standard car, the fee is 3.10 €.

You have until 8:00 PM the next day to pay at an authorized retailer or online at https://www.eflow.ie/.

We prepaid these fees directly on the site mentioned above.

If you don’t pay within the required time, you’ll be charged substantial penalties.

For dining, most grocery stores and gas stations offer a great selection of hot and cold meals at very reasonable prices. That’s why we mostly bought our food at places like SuperValu, Lidl, Spar, and Centra.

We invite you to keep reading about our adventure in the next section.
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Peru-Bolivia 2017: A Month in the Andes
Here we go...

It’s been almost a month since we got back, and my head is still over there... Just like every time... For my own sake, I know travel journals are useful for travelers planning a trip to a country. But selfishly, they’re also helpful for me—to put the final stone on each journey and revisit it from time to time, just for the memories...

So, this trip won’t be any different, and I invite you to follow along on our Andean adventure, from Lima to the Southern Lipez, from December 16, 2016, to January 14, 2017. It’s a chronological journal because I don’t know how to approach it any other way. It doesn’t hold any absolute truths—just my experiences and feelings, which are obviously personal and not objective!

But if it inspires you to visit these magical countries (and I assume you’re already interested if you’re here) or gives you a couple of tips, then I’ll consider it a win!

So, let’s hit the road for the land of wide-open spaces!

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Ecuador itinerary with a 16-month-old baby
Hi there!

After scouring the forum, reading several guides, and browsing websites, here are a few questions about our upcoming trip to Ecuador this summer.

We’re planning to travel with our 16-month-old son (he’s already been to Russia, Argentina, and Uruguay in his first three months), and here are some questions we have.

The big question: What type of baby carrier would you recommend? (We have a JPMBB, but I’ve never really been able to use it—it digs into my shoulders and isn’t comfortable. For short walks or strolls with the baby, we need something solid!)

Roughly, we’d arrive in Quito and return from Guayaquil (with the end of the trip in the Galápagos). The route would be something like this: Quito, Quilotoa, Papallacta, Cotopaxi, Baños, Riobamba, Chimborazo, Cuenca, Guayaquil, and the Galápagos.

For the Galápagos, we were thinking of 8 days—does that seem reasonable?

Regarding transportation, what are the buses like in Ecuador? (More like Argentina/Chile or more like Bolivia/Nicaragua?) How manageable is it with a baby?

Does the itinerary seem doable, and how much time would you roughly spend in each place? It’s clear we won’t be doing any major ascents, but we enjoy walking—a 2-3 hour hike to see the wildlife and flora at the foot of Chimborazo doesn’t scare us.

Without a baby, what do you think of the Baños-Puyo route? Some recommend the Chimborazo descent instead. With a baby, is the Baños-Puyo route doable? Is it possible to have a baby carrier on the bike?

Thanks so much! :)
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Inside South Africa
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)...
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8-Day Trip to the Marquesas Islands from Papeete
This trip is a more budget-friendly—and shorter—alternative to the 14-day Aranui 5 cruise, which includes a few days at sea and a detour to Bora Bora in the Leeward Islands on the way back. The advantage of the cruise is that it lets you see and visit (though far too quickly) the two islands of Tahuata and Fatu Hiva, which don’t have airports. By plane, you’ll only be able to land on 4 of the 6 islands. However, Tahuata is accessible from Hiva Oa via a day trip (or two-day trip) shuttle. Plan for two extra days in your total time dedicated to the Marquesas Islands (called *Fenua Enata* in Marquesan language).

Our itinerary is perfect for those who aren’t excited by cruises and prefer to get closer to the local communities. This 9-day trip cost us around 2500 € all-inclusive. For a 14-day cruise on the Aranui, expect to pay 2300 € per person for a basic cabin for four, or 3800 € per person for a superior double cabin.

Air Tahiti offers a 4-island Marquesas Pass (Nuku Hiva, Ua Pou, Ua Huka, and Hiva Oa) for 86,000 XPF (about 700 €). The journey is made on an ATR 72 from Tahiti to Nuku Hiva or Hiva Oa, and on a 19-seat Twin Otter between the islands (often only 13 or 15 seats are available due to cargo, so book well in advance). We’re traveling as a couple. We booked our family-run guesthouse stays at the Tourism Fair in early February, where you can meet the owners and make your choice. Stays are almost always half-board or breakfast-only. Transfers are usually included, but you can always book a car or taxi.

**NUKU HIVA**

**A LITTLE GEOGRAPHY** Nuku Hiva (NH) is located about 1,500 km from Tahiti, in the north of French Polynesia. At 387 km², it’s the second-largest island in French Polynesia after Tahiti. It was formed by incredible volcanic phenomena and cataclysms between 1 and 6 million years ago, which lifted the island thousands of meters above the sea. Even after millennia of slow erosion, collapses, and settling, NH remains the most majestic of the Marquesas, with its sheer cliffs, deep valleys featuring immense waterfalls, and black walls that were once the inner walls of enormous volcanoes.

**A LITTLE HISTORY** The first contact between NH’s inhabitants and Europeans was in 1595 with Spanish navigators who only stayed briefly. It wasn’t until the late 18th century that Europeans arrived in greater numbers on NH (and the other Marquesas Islands), disrupting a very fragile social and cultural balance. It’s believed that nearly 100,000 people lived on Nuku Hiva at that time—a population decimated over the decades by epidemics, diseases brought by Europeans, and alcohol used for barter. The disastrous result: by the 1930s, only 2,500 people remained, having largely lost their identity and living in poverty. Today, the island has about 2,600 inhabitants spread across several villages, with Taiohae as the main one.

**NUKU HIVA IN LITERATURE**

1 / One of the famous writers who visited NH and stayed there was Herman Melville, who arrived in July 1842, the author of *Moby Dick*. The island had just come under French protectorate. Seduced by the enchanting *vahinés* and dazzled by his paradisiacal vision of the place, Melville deserted his ship. He ended up a prisoner of a local tribe, the Taipi, in Taipivai, where he stayed for a month and a half until an Australian ship captain secured his release in exchange for a musket and a roll of cotton fabric! Melville wrote a novel about this tumultuous episode in his life, considered a classic of travel literature. The book, *Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life*, published in 1846 in the United States, was a huge success.

2 / Another famous Scottish writer, Robert Louis Stevenson, arrived in NH aboard a yacht that anchored in Anaho Bay, the island’s most beautiful, in July 1888. Stevenson was already known for two magnificent novels that marked their era: *Treasure Island* and *Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde*. Stevenson, too, was captivated by the island’s natural beauty, though he also noted the devastating decline in identity, socio-cultural life, and physical health of a population ravaged by disease and alcohol. His account of his stay, *In the South Seas: An Account of Experiences and Observations in the Marquesas, Paumotus, and Gilbert Islands During Two Cruises on the Yacht Casco (1888) and the Schooner Equator (1889)*, was published in 1896 in New York, four years after his death in Apia, Western Samoa, where he had settled. It was also published in London in 1900.

3 / In August 1903, Victor Segalen, a French naval doctor, ethnologist, and archaeologist, landed in NH from the ship *La Durance*, sent to Polynesia to recover the possessions of the painter Paul Gauguin, who had died in April of that year. He, too, was enthralled by the Marquesas but lamented the loss of identity, dignity, and pride of the Māori, alienated by a Christianization that destroyed their culture and customs, denied their gods, and erased their past. He wrote about his experience, doubts, and fears in *Les Immémoriaux*.

4 / In December 1907, Jack London arrived in NH aboard the sailboat *Stark*, following in the footsteps of his illustrious predecessor, Herman Melville. London was in poor physical condition, exhausted from his relentless travels that had taken him from the Klondike in Canada to Japan, Australia, and London in Europe. He was appalled and shocked by Nuku Hiva’s degraded health situation: where Melville had encountered over 2,000 vigorous and healthy Marquesan warriors, London found only 12 suffering from various diseases—the rest had been wiped out by tuberculosis! His approach remained humanistic, and he maintained a sharp geopolitical awareness of these traditional Polynesian cultures, weakened by the inexorable advance of modernity in the early 20th century. He continued his journey to the Tuamotu Islands and Tahiti, publishing *Martin Eden*, the moving account of his initiatory voyage in the South Pacific, in 1911.

5 / Finally, Alain Gerbault, a writer, linguist, ethnologist, and tireless traveler, arrived in the Marquesas via the Panama Canal in December 1933. He was completely exhausted after an endless crossing on a small sailboat, the *Firecrest*. Enthralled by his stay in the Marquesas, he continued to the Tuamotu Islands in 1934, then Tahiti in 1935. Gerbault fought for the preservation of traditions, as well as the songs and dances banned by the Churches and the French Administration (these bans lasted over 50 years, mind you...!!!). Bora Bora remained his favorite island. A staunch Pétainist during World War II, he was forced to flee Bora Bora for Samoa, then Tonga, and finally Timor, a half-Portuguese island and thus neutral during the war. His travel accounts, *In Pursuit of the Sun: Logbook from New York to Tahiti* and *A Paradise Is Dying*, were published in the late 1940s. He died in Timor in 1941, and his ashes were repatriated to Bora Bora.

Back to our trip and stay.

**Day 1: April 27**

Departure from Papeete at 6:30 AM—we had to wake up two hours earlier and reach the airport in the dark. Takeoff at dawn, good weather en route, flight duration: 4 hours.

Arrival around 10:30 AM in Nuku Hiva, the first stop of this trip. We booked two nights in half-board at Pension Koku’u, transfers included. Maybe not such a great idea, those included transfers, especially on this unique island where the airport is located on *Terre Déserte*, on the other side of the mountain, opposite and about 45 km from the main village of Taiohae. They’re charged at a steep price. Expect 6,000 XPF round-trip by taxi, but 15,000 XPF charged by guesthouses or hotels. The difference is notable. It wasn’t the best idea, but we can’t go back. Even for residents like us who know how to travel in Polynesia, the Air Tahiti employee who sold me the Pass couldn’t give any useful advice about the stay itself—probably because he’d never been to the Marquesas. It’s really annoying! In short, the good idea to remember is renting a car (like a Suzuki) to be free to manage your time and stop at leisure. The road signage is a bit basic, but you’ll manage just fine. Our host Alvane waits for us—without a sign (sic!)—and after searching for each other for 5 minutes, we’re off on a journey of over an hour (with photo stops) in a Land Rover with smooth tires (luckily, it’s not raining!). The recently paved and marked mountain road is impeccable. No time to catch our breath at the guesthouse; we leave immediately (not a great idea after waking up at dawn plus 4 hours on a plane) for a half-day hike that was also included in the prepaid stay. A sandwich was provided (really pathetic for the physical effort required), we have water, and we fill a few bottles at the spring near the ceremonial site of Taipivai, our first stop. Then the hike begins in the Hanaheu Valley, descending toward Anaho Bay and its namesake beach. A magnificent and wild spot, a few sailboats anchored, we swim—the water is really warm, over 30°C at the shore. That warm is rare and not necessarily pleasant. We then have to climb a very steep slope; this hike is actually quite tough. The air is still, humid, and stifling under the foliage, there’s a bit of mud, and tiny ants (which don’t bite, I’ll have you know), locally called *fofolles*, running over shoes, ankles, and calves. Not very pleasant...! On top of that, there are mosquitoes to protect against! In hindsight, it seems wise to bring energy bars from Papeete if you plan to hike on the afternoon of your arrival day. We weren’t careful... Result: a moment of weakness for me and a hyperventilation attack climbing back up from Anaho Bay!!! We return to the guesthouse at night. There we find Claudine and her four children—Marquesan-style atmosphere, friendly and casual. We share family life. Very simple room with a bathroom, no mosquitoes, we can sleep with the window open, but the night will be noisy, as is often the case in Polynesia. Roosters are everywhere and don’t sleep, dogs bark or whine. So we end up waking up early... like everyone else.

**Day 2: April 28**

We booked a full-day excursion with Thierry: it starts with a 45-minute boat ride to reach Hakatea Beach, hidden in a small secret bay like many along Nuku Hiva’s coasts. From there, the hike lasts all day—11 km round-trip on flat but also rugged terrain (ancient paved and elevated paths over 1,000 years old)—and river crossings. Bring the right shoes (like plastic Crocs with high socks—not very stylish but practical). We cross the former village of Hakaui, walk along the foundations of dwellings, and there are still weathered tikis in the lush vegetation. The ultimate goal of this hike is to reach the tall Vaipo waterfall. The place is magical, with openings in the vegetation and immense trees allowing photos of the treetops and caves where funeral canoes containing the bones of chiefs or great warriors were once placed. We return the same way to the beach and take another boat ride to reach Taihoae’s port. Back at the guesthouse after a glimpse of Taihoae’s waterfront.







**UA POU**

**Day 3: April 29**

Back to the airport in the late morning for the second flight of the trip to Ua Pou. 20-minute crossing in a Twin Otter (18 seats but only 13 occupied due to cargo between the islands). Beautiful weather, blue sea, nice photos to take upon departure from NH and arrival in UP. We’re greeted by Jérôme, a former military man turned tourism professional, who runs Pension Pukue’e with his wife Elisa, a native of UP. We’re in for two exceptional days. The guesthouse is comfortable, Jérôme and Elisa are very professional and pleasant. Jérôme is also a professional hiker, and Elisa is an excellent cook. We leave quickly for a half-day excursion to Hohoi, after a stop at the archaeological, cultural, and religious site of Maui’a, the Tavaka tribe’s territory. Jérôme is there to explain how Marquesan society functioned at the time and the events that took place on a site still largely buried under vegetation. Then we visit a flower-stone sculptor he knows—the only place in the Marquesas where you’ll find these stones. They’re collected in the river flowing into the sea at Hohoi, sometimes on the beach itself. Back to the guesthouse.

**Day 4: April 30**

A nature hike in the mountains—moderately difficult—toward the Vaiea waterfall is on our program for a good 4 hours. It’s hot, there are mosquitoes, and the dip in the pool under the waterfall (24°C water) is a rare pleasure. Lunch at a friend of Jérôme’s, a former chef for French minister François Fillon, who prepares delicious food. Elisa picks us up by car to return to the guesthouse. Ua Pou is a beautiful and elegant island with its sharp peaks and wild nature. Our favorite, thanks to Jérôme and his wife.





**UA HUKA**

**Day 4: May 1**

Departure for Ua Huka, the smallest inhabited island in the northern group of the Marquesas, located about 1,300 km northeast of Tahiti. Landing is at the oldest airfield in the Marquesas, built in 1972, between the villages of Vaipaee and Hane. Ua Huka has about 680 inhabitants, according to the last census, spread across 3 villages (since the 1870s): Vaipaee, Hane, and Hokatu. The island peaks at Mount Hitikau at only 884 meters. Its origin: a Hawaiian-type shield volcano that—over a few million years—collapsed to become a caldera (or elliptical depression) in which two small volcanoes appeared, the craters of Tahoatikiau and Teepoepo, now part of the Vaikivi Park. The island is rugged and wild, lower than the others, so less cloud-covered and drier. The bays are jagged, the coastline in ochre tones above the intense blue of the sea, and the beaches are constantly disturbed by the powerful surf. The village of Hokatu is only a few kilometers away (just 14 km of road on the island), but Maurice, our host, drives slowly, and it takes time to go up and down. The road is entirely paved or concreted, which isn’t the case on Ua Pou, for example. The guesthouse is disappointing, perched above the village and thus isolated. Beautiful view of the famous Hane motu and the sparkling sea under the bright sun. Apart from that, there are mosquitoes and cockroaches, the bungalow isn’t clean. Meals are taken with Maurice and Delphine in the village—fine dining isn’t on the menu! Ouch!!! We didn’t luck out...

**Day 5: May 2**

Early in the morning, after breakfast, Delphine takes us to the craft center, which turns out to be a letdown—the items for sale are, in my opinion, crude and poorly carved. Nothing like what’s offered at the Marquesas Fair, held twice a year in Papeete, where you can admire and buy small wonders: wood carvings, flower stone, and coral. Delphine is disappointed we’re not interested, and it shows... She’s a bit sulky! These are items meant for Aranui cruise passengers who land on Ua Huka once every two weeks... Solo travelers like us don’t seem to interest her much. The rest of the day—spent with Maurice—is dedicated to visiting cultural centers and small museums, like the Sea Museum in Hane with its ancient canoes, the municipal archaeological museum on the Te Tumu site above the airfield, the petroglyph house near Hokatu Beach, and finally the Papuakeikaraa arboretum, which gathers endemic plants from all over Polynesia and an impressive citrus collection. No excursion planned to Vaikivi Park, toward the previously mentioned craters that recall the island’s volcanic past. Also missing are the viewpoints, the unique endemic vegetation, and especially the petroglyphs. Too bad... at that price!!! Still, in the evening, we go fishing—with sandwiches and drinks in coolers—with other villagers from the dock at the end of the paved road. It’s cool, windy, no mosquitoes, lots of fish caught, and a great atmosphere. Plus, magnificently starry skies.

Ua Huka is one of the rare islands not invaded by the black rat, which has preserved its birdlife, particularly the ultramarine lorikeet (or *pihiti* in Marquesan), which feeds almost exclusively on flower nectar (banana, coconut, hibiscus, mango, guava trees). A dog imported from New Zealand has been specially trained to detect rats: it inspects cargo unloaded from boats and the docks.

I recommend spending two full days on the island—one for visiting the various museums, the other for hiking in the island’s center park, where the archaeological sites are in their raw state: foundations of agricultural terrace walls, gathering places (or *tohua*), dwelling pavements (or *paepae*), sacred sites (or *me’ae* in Marquesan, *marae* in Tahitian) with their tikis and petroglyphs.

To finish, a bit of info on the island’s name, tied to Marquesan oral culture: according to the legend of the creation of the six Marquesas Islands, Ua Huka is the one that puts the finishing touch on the construction of the god Oatea’s house, each island having a defined architectural function. Ua Huka represents the hole (*ua*) where the god deposits what’s left (*huka* in Marquesan) of the unused materials during construction.

**HIVA OA**

**Day 6: May 3**

Departure in the late morning for Hiva Oa. Maurice—who had other things to do—dropped us off at the airfield 3 hours early... so this stop is a bit of a flop, even if we decided to stay positive! Hiva Oa is the third-largest island in French Polynesia after Tahiti and Nuku Hiva, and before Raiatea in the Leeward Islands. The island is beautiful, lush, verdant, and jagged. The mountains soar into the sky, the sea views are grand, the light is sublime—we’re lucky. Beautiful weather. Tania from Pension Kanahau waits for us at the airport. We’re in for two wonderful days with her. Tania is welcoming, smiling, and dynamic. What a pleasure to be with her, at her place—she cooks divinely and serves the best tuna in the world (the Big Eye reserved for the Japanese) and croquettes made with lobster, shrimp, and crab with breadfruit cubes, for example. Comfortable bungalow, no mosquitoes at night, we can sleep with the window open. It’s fantastic! After settling in, Tania takes us to town in Atuona, a pleasant and well-laid-out little village. We start with lunch—a delicious raw fish in coconut milk—then continue with the must-see attractions: the Catholic cemetery where Paul Gauguin and Jacques Brel’s graves are, overlooking the town; the abandoned Protestant cemetery, reclaimed by the bush, with impressive Marquesan warrior tombs made of huge coral slabs and adorned with a tiki head (harder to find, as no one goes there... ask for directions!); the craft center; the Gauguin Museum (and the Jacques Brel Museum); and the waterfront. While we stroll peacefully, Tania organizes an excursion for the next day, May 4, a full day with Pifa O’Connor, a 36-year-old who knows his island inside out, is passionate about local history, and with whom we’ll hit it off.

**Day 7: May 4**

Pifa arrives at 8 AM sharp at the guesthouse, and we immediately buy sandwiches and water at a small supermarket in Atuona. First, we make a brief stop by the roadside at an unmarked spot, from which we descend a small path through dense vegetation leading to the famous smiling tiki—the only one of its kind in the Marquesas and Polynesia. The place is improbable, the tiki isn’t huge, but it’s beautiful and impressive. Then we’re off on the road that, dizzyingly, runs along and overlooks the island’s northern coast, at the edge of the ancient volcano. Few vehicles pass, the road—now a rocky track—is full of potholes, and we proceed slowly. (Note that this road has been fully paved since 2018.) The panoramas are majestic, with every shade of green against the blue sea. We stop again at the top of a cliff adorned with a huge stone, the *sacrifice stone*, from which young virgin girls were once thrown into the sea to appease angry gods. Another pause for lunch this time, at a small restaurant near the exceptional archaeological site of Puamau. We’ll experience the highlights of this trip during this excursion with our guide, Pifa, who spares no explanations. We discover, on a vast esplanade, the ceremonial complexes of Ta’a Oa and Meae Te I’Ipona, the latter featuring superb tikis, particularly the reclining tiki—or *Maki Taua Pepe*—representing Motherhood, a woman giving birth in a squatting position, as was often the case in many civilizations. Also notable is the *Takaii*, the largest tiki recorded in Polynesia to date. There’s also a huge stone with a now-blunt edge, on which the circumcision of chiefs’ and notables’ pre-adolescent sons was performed. A tough ordeal! But that’s not all! It seems there are more on the mountainside rising steeply behind the archaeological site—overturned tikis, platforms, and, apparently, a giant tiki at the top, which must have fallen but was visible from afar on the sea 30 or 40 years ago, according to the island’s elders. This meeting, worship, and living place—it was actually a small town—is immense. Thousands of people once lived in this part of the island. The site—a religious, social, and cultural sanctuary—would be the size of the largest Mayan sites in Yucatán, but the few concerned owners—two or three families who own the mountainside—don’t want to hear about intensive clearing or tree cutting for now. UNESCO rightly asks for some compliance efforts to grant special treatment to Hiva Oa in particular and the Marquesas in general. We’re not there yet, unfortunately, due to insurmountable local rigidities! This kind of attitude is quite typical in Polynesia: people are afraid to uncover *marae* buried under vegetation—they’re taboo and sometimes said to emit negative and deadly waves, so it’s better not to disturb or anger the ancient spirits or gods who might take revenge. The old religion is never far away in Polynesia, despite the successes of the missionaries.

We return to the guesthouse in the late afternoon. Last night in the Marquesas with Tania, who prepares a fine and delicious meal. Note that dinner costs 2,500 XPF per person.

**Day 8: May 5**

We take the plane as planned, via Nuku Hiva (short stopover). Arrival on time in Papeete.

May this travel journal inspire many of you to visit the Marquesas one day. It’s far, it’s expensive, it’s the trip of a lifetime—it’s unforgettable and unmissable.
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Northern to Southern Alsace
Here’s a travel journal with photos, different from the ones we usually share with you.

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

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















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

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Planning a bike trip?
Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you going?

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

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

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

May the passion keep growing before, during, and after! Happy planning and safe travels to everyone.
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Making a living from travel photography?
While researching this topic myself, I came across a discussion thread http://voyageforum.com/voyage/est_t_il_possible_gagner_un_peu_argent_avec_tres_belles_photos_D2577539/ that I found a bit disheartening...

First off, I want to say that this recurring dream isn’t impossible:

http://www.pixfan.com/entretien-avec-eric-lafforgue/

That said, it won’t just fall into your lap by chance! ;-) Believe me, just because no degree is required doesn’t mean you can approach this project as an amateur.

You’ll need to be a technical expert, invest thousands of euros in gear and software, have a unique aesthetic vision, sharp business sense, and a rigorous approach at every stage of your work—because this *is* a profession. Without a minimum of commitment and professionalism, you won’t get far... But then again, other careers aren’t exactly easier...

So, for those who already have a portfolio that triggers uncontrollable gasps of wonder at every slide show at Aunt Monique’s place, here are some great places to test your determination and skills:

http://www.lonelyplanetimages.com/prospective_photographers

http://www.theimageworks.com/cu_prosphoto.php

http://www.pacificstock.com/photographer_guidelines.asp

For those who think they’ve already created some high-resolution masterpieces, you can also invest in internationally renowned competitions:

http://worldinfocuscontest.com/

http://www.tpoty.com/2009/about.html

http://www.thecolorawards.com/

http://journals.worldnomads.com/scholarships/post/32554.aspx

Finally, you might want to start by simply showcasing your work online at low cost and submitting your photos to a massive, not-always-agreeable-but-not-hostile audience for feedback:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/28421453@N07/sets/72157614525899920/

By the way, I hope you're already fluent in English...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilty as charged. I ate the best cassoulet of my life at the Hôtel du Midi in Revel. But it was very productive in methane. My stomach hurt so much I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing my postcards between 3 and 4 AM. So many great memories!
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Do you drink wine with your meals?
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.
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Do you adopt customs from your travels when you're back home?
I’ve kept the habit of blowing my nose in the sink and then washing my hands—a custom I picked up in India. Sometimes, non-travelers are shocked when they catch me in the act... 🤪

Also, when I run out of toilet paper, it doesn’t bother me—unless I’ve got company over... 🤪

Just got back from walking a friend’s dog (while they’re on vacation), wearing a djellaba and Tibetan boots... 😏😏😏 Oh, for sure, if I’d run into locals, I probably would’ve shocked them? 😏

Anyway, as long as I’m not spitting on the floor at a restaurant or squatting on the side of a highway with a water bottle in hand...

Do you bring back customs from your travels?
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