This catchy and somewhat mysterious title comes from several questions I’ve been asking myself.
VF has been back open for a reasonable number of weeks and months now.
The number of visitors overall matches past averages, but the number of members online in the last 24 hours seems relatively lower than what we used to see.
Yet, to my surprise, I’m seeing fewer travel journals, way fewer messages, and way fewer questions.
I don’t see many new registered users online, and I notice a number of members who are logged in but either aren’t participating or have stopped participating.
Something’s not adding up for me because, in my opinion, VF is still appealing, and I don’t see which other sites could really compete.
Was there a real break between pre- and post-Covid?
Does it just take more time for some people to discover the site or learn that it’s active again?
Do people now prefer quick consumption on sites like FB or others I’m not familiar with?
Where have the site’s old-timers gone, and what are they doing with their time now?
What’s really going on here?
248 similar discussions in English
Hi everyone,
I was wondering how the coronavirus pandemic has impacted the way you travel or plan your trips. I know some of these points have been discussed before, but what I’m interested in here is the concrete, present, and personal—no politics and nothing post-COVID.
Here are a few ideas—do any of these resonate with you?
- Traveling shorter distances / for shorter durations - Favoring rural or less crowded areas over urban or overcrowded ones - Opting for private transportation over public transit - Traveling solo or at least in pairs rather than in groups - Waiting until the crisis is over and saving money in the meantime - Reassessing health risks (and updating your first-aid kit/medications and vaccinations) - ...
I’m sure you’ll have other things to add. The floor is yours!
I was wondering how the coronavirus pandemic has impacted the way you travel or plan your trips. I know some of these points have been discussed before, but what I’m interested in here is the concrete, present, and personal—no politics and nothing post-COVID.
Here are a few ideas—do any of these resonate with you?
- Traveling shorter distances / for shorter durations - Favoring rural or less crowded areas over urban or overcrowded ones - Opting for private transportation over public transit - Traveling solo or at least in pairs rather than in groups - Waiting until the crisis is over and saving money in the meantime - Reassessing health risks (and updating your first-aid kit/medications and vaccinations) - ...
I’m sure you’ll have other things to add. The floor is yours!
Really disappointed with Costa Rica! Pura vida? The scam of the century!
(Costa Rica pure emptiness).
The country where animals are free and people are in cages. 3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer. Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness. My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place. On the main routes, we visited: San José Alajuela Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side) Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side) And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched. He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown. What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor. At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José: It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken. On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox. From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire. Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets. Bars with security guards out front. I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel. The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses. The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in. A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park. Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further. We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it. A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces. A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures. But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business. Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse! According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable. Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos. A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park! A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park. The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color. Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded! Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30. The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches. As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves. A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!" For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex! The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for? For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places. In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs: Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you. For everyone else: run!
The country where animals are free and people are in cages. 3 weeks in December in this country and never again. Imagine the trailer of a movie that seems interesting, and when you go see it, you realize it’s a flop and the best moments were in the trailer. Well, that’s exactly how we felt with Costa Rica pure emptiness. My wife and I have traveled quite a bit and didn’t expect to be so wrong about a place. On the main routes, we visited: San José Alajuela Limón, Cahuita, Puerto Viejo, Manzanillo (Caribbean side) Jaco, Quepos, Manuel Antonio (Pacific side) And a few short stops in intermediate towns.
Our dissatisfaction grew gradually like this:
When we arrived at the hotel, the taxi dropped us off on a small street in front of a white metal gate with ground-floor windows barred. We looked at it skeptically, but the sign matched. He approached the gate, rang the bell, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened slightly. The hotel wasn’t bad for the price, a 10-minute walk from downtown, but with a "Fleury-Mérogis" vibe guaranteed.
So far, so good.
After showering and regaining our bearings, we headed downtown. What started to unsettle us on the way was seeing houses with bars on the ground-floor windows and even on the second floor. At first, we thought the hotel’s neighborhood wasn’t great.
Downtown San José: It’s a generic city, not very exotic, with a pedestrian street and a small mercado where you can eat local food without frills. Very few tourists—if any—which let you blend in with the locals. We had lunch and struggled to make ourselves understood because, aside from one or two shops, English wasn’t spoken. On the way back to the hotel, we took a different route, and while chatting and strolling, my wife pointed out a beautiful two-story white house completely barricaded like Fort Knox. From that moment, we started noticing the facades of houses and buildings, and wow, it was creepy—most looked like prisons, some even with barbed wire. Though put off, we told ourselves it was probably a big-city thing and the rest of the country couldn’t be like this.
So far, so good.
We relaxed at the hotel and had a drink at the bar. Night falls early, around 5:30 PM. By 7:30 PM, we headed back downtown for dinner. A bit unsettling for a capital—downtown was almost deserted, and aside from fast-food chains, very few restaurants were open, with hardly anyone on the streets. Bars with security guards out front. I won’t say we felt unsafe that night, but once it got dark, we realized the bars on the windows weren’t for nothing. First day in, and our impression was already mixed.
The next day, we explored the city and surroundings, and our feelings didn’t change.
So far, so good.
Off to Cahuita by bus—4 hours of travel. The landscapes are very green but quickly become monotonous. The road runs alongside the forest and passes through a few towns and villages, and even in the countryside, there were just as many prison-like houses. The bus dropped us off at Cahuita’s terminal station—only four of us got off. It’s a village, or rather, a small town. Cahuita is basically one straight road and a perpendicular one, and honestly, doubt started to creep in. A few restaurants that add 13% tax and 10% service charge—so 23% extra. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went to explore. In 20 minutes, we’d seen it all. We had lunch and planned to check out the famous park. Entry is by donation—well, the "entry" is a joke. There’s a path along the forest by the sea, and that’s it.
Nothing’s going right anymore.
We thought it was a total scam, but since we hadn’t gone far, we decided to come back the next day to explore further. We returned to the hotel, relaxed, and around 8:00 PM, we went out for dinner. Only two restaurants were open, and the streets were deserted.
Creepy!
The next day, we explored the so-called park more thoroughly and really got it. A path along the forest by the sea—2 hours there and 2 hours back, where you see animals that feel like showing their faces. A total joke—"all that for this?"
The beach was full of wood debris and coconut husks. We wondered if the photos online were edited because the sea, very rough, wasn’t the azure blue we’d seen in pictures. But calling this a park is a joke—it’s like a new concept.
When we thought about the reviews online, we started to suspect that professionals with interests in the country were monitoring and countering any negative feedback that could harm their business. Too bad we didn’t check the negative reviews beforehand—we did while we were there, and it helped. We wondered if we’d become too demanding after all our travels, but no—when something’s bad, it’s bad.
Manuel Antonio’s park is even more ridiculous—there’s a short path along the sea for about 500 meters, and then nothing. You have to climb through mud and hack your way through the forest. We ended up barefoot because the mud was up to our calves. All that to see a raccoon and a few parrots flying overhead.
We didn’t expect Noah’s Ark, but we’ve seen more animals in Bali, Mexico, and Thailand while visiting temples or just walking around than in these so-called parks!
Puerto Viejo, not far from Cahuita and supposedly livelier—well, it couldn’t be worse! According to Lonely Planet, it had a Caribbean vibe and wild nights, but maybe that was a long time ago. The good reggae music playing everywhere isn’t enough.
In the evening, Puerto Viejo was a bit livelier than Cahuita, but that’s not saying much. Very few tourists—if any—no night market, just two or three shops open selling $20 T-shirts. Same vibe as San José.
No big deal—we enjoyed the beach and the sun, which was reliable. Our itinerary was supposed to include Tortuguero Park, but after talking to other travelers who’d just been, we changed our minds, knowing we’d be visiting Manuel Antonio Park on the Pacific side.
To get back to the Pacific side, you have to take the bus and go through San José again—5 hours this time—then switch bus terminals and another 4.5 hours to Quepos. A stopover town to get to Manuel Antonio’s beach and park! A town just like the others we’d seen—deserted as soon as the sun sets, and not exactly bustling during the day either. (Where are all the tourists?)
Still as many bars on the windows and that feeling of being in the wrong place.
7 km later: Manuel Antonio beach and park. The beach is very beautiful and quite large, but don’t expect turquoise blue water—the waves stir up the sand, giving the water a brownish color. Along the beach, shops and restaurants for about 300 meters, and then nothing. At night, after sunset, the town shuts down too.
Manuel Antonio Park is highly praised for its wildlife, so we were eager to see it. When you express dissatisfaction with Cahuita or Manzanillo parks, the response is always, "But you should’ve gone to Monteverde or Manuel Antonio!" No matter what you do or say, they’ll tell you, "You should’ve gone there or here."
Back to our famous park—entry was about $16, and contrary to what we’d heard, it wasn’t crowded! Guides at the entrance with spotting scopes offered their services for about $30. The park: a mix of boardwalk and dirt paths through the forest, sometimes running alongside beautiful coves and beaches. As soon as we entered, a crowd was taking photos of a deer eating leaves. A little further on, a guide with a group of five stopped. The guide raised his arm and set up his spotting scope! He showed them, about 100 meters away, a hummingbird perched on a branch. Some, looking through the scope, exclaimed, "Oh my God! Amazing! Incredible!" For a moment, we thought they’d discovered a unicorn or were in Jurassic Park and had just crossed paths with a T-Rex! The concept is comical—looking at a bird or another animal through a spotting scope because it’s too far away. Isn’t that what TV is for? For our part, we saw monkeys, ants, an armadillo, an iguana, and the backside of a sloth climbing a tree. Amazing, incredible!
We stayed a few days in Manuel Antonio to enjoy the beach, changing hotels often because prices varied wildly from one day to the next for shameful services. On top of that, they’d quote a price in dollars and convert it at their discretion—thieves!
Alajuela, a city near the airport, has a two-story mall and a local market downtown! No interest except its proximity to the airport.
What we liked:
The climate and, in hindsight, San José—the most authentic city we visited.
What we didn’t like, in addition to what we’ve already mentioned:
Costa Ricans aren’t very friendly or communicative. English is barely spoken, not even by doctors at Quepos Hospital, where my wife ended up with food poisoning (thanks, Google Translate). The widespread obesity among Costa Ricans, who eat like Americans. The insecurity. The eco-hipsters who leave their $150 lodges in minivans with guides to visit parks and other sites, then return to barricade themselves in their fortresses at nightfall (oh my God, amazing, incredible). The blue signs at the entrance of towns that accept this payment method: "We accept American Express." Parking lots that become paid just because a guy is watching your car. Prices displayed in dollars. The cost of living (hotels, restaurants, taxes). Landscapes that are too green and not flowery enough. Beaches—nothing exceptional. Pollution in cities where big American trucks rule. Sewage dumped directly into the sea. Aside from the jungle, there’s nothing to visit—no ruins, monuments, or anything worth seeing.
In short, my wife and I think the hype about this supposedly eco-friendly country is overrated. It’s just the trendy destination of the moment. There are much better, cheaper, and more authentic places. In hindsight, we keep the good memories and our beautiful photos, but if we had to do it over...
Before signing off, a little message to those who don’t like hearing opinions different from theirs: Well, some things aren’t up for debate. And to those who’d have us believe that in 3 weeks, we don’t have the right to criticize a country or express our feelings—how can you praise it in so little time? What a scam. Costa Rica is a money pit. Pura vida? Pure cosmic emptiness.
If you like spending your evenings barricaded in your cozy hotel after dark, this country is for you. For everyone else: run!
A few days ago, I came across a chart showing a number of cities around the world ranked by cost and quality of life. The source is the Numbeo database, based in Serbia, dated August 2026. There will undoubtedly be a thousand possible questions and criticisms. The main objection is methodological. Anyone with an internet connection can rate a city, so the sample is neither random nor representative, and its size varies enormously from one city to another. Numbeo describes the ranking as reflecting the perceptions and experiences of its contributors rather than measured results.
Is this an appropriate topic for VF? I think so. When traveling abroad, you notice huge differences in lifestyle and naturally ask yourself: is it better here than there, or than at home? The question arises differently depending on the type of trip—short or medium-term tourism, or medium to long-term residence.
And we’re back to the methodology problem. Since anyone can submit ratings to the database, how do we know whether the ranking of a city like Novgorod, Quito, or Islamabad (chosen at random) comes from travelers, foreign residents, or only people who are native to the place and have never left their hometown?
The cost of living in the database is indexed based on restaurant prices, transportation, services, housing (rented or purchased), and income. Fair enough. For quality of life, they mention safety, medical services, traffic, pollution, and climate. I would have liked to see social quality of life (interpersonal relationships, nightlife, shows, restaurants, etc.) as well as the possibility of pleasant and interesting excursions included.
That said, I don’t think it’s completely meaningless. In any case, it can serve as a starting point for those interested in the topic. So, I’m posting the original chart here, along with two versions with my personal annotations. A few comments:
- In principle and in my opinion, there should be a simple cost-quality relationship, which I represent with a diagonal sector running from the bottom-left quadrant to the top-right quadrant—that is, from cheap but low-quality cities to expensive cities offering a higher quality of life. It’s no surprise to find several Australian cities at one extreme of this sector, for example. Take Melbourne: sure, it’s a very pleasant city to live in, but living or visiting there is very expensive.
- The bottom-right and top-left quadrants: these are the cities that don’t fit this expected relationship:
o Bottom-right quadrant: expensive cities with mediocre quality of life. London and Paris are here, along with several U.S. cities. No surprise there. The worst is Los Angeles, closely followed by London, Paris, New York, Chicago, Milan... I don’t think that’s a huge revelation. o Top-left quadrant: relatively affordable cities with a good quality of life. We find cities in Brazil (Curitiba, Florianópolis), Turkey (Antalya), Spain, and Portugal. I’m intrigued by the presence of Russian cities and Islamabad—again, who are the people rating these cities?
I was drawn to this chart after returning from a trip to Japan. I know some travelers don’t think much of Tokyo, but I had a good impression of it. So, I’m inclined to agree with ranking Tokyo right near Lisbon in the best quadrant. I’m even wondering if it wouldn’t be a good idea to move there for a few months. Other cities in Japan could be worth considering...
What do you think?
Is this an appropriate topic for VF? I think so. When traveling abroad, you notice huge differences in lifestyle and naturally ask yourself: is it better here than there, or than at home? The question arises differently depending on the type of trip—short or medium-term tourism, or medium to long-term residence.
And we’re back to the methodology problem. Since anyone can submit ratings to the database, how do we know whether the ranking of a city like Novgorod, Quito, or Islamabad (chosen at random) comes from travelers, foreign residents, or only people who are native to the place and have never left their hometown?
The cost of living in the database is indexed based on restaurant prices, transportation, services, housing (rented or purchased), and income. Fair enough. For quality of life, they mention safety, medical services, traffic, pollution, and climate. I would have liked to see social quality of life (interpersonal relationships, nightlife, shows, restaurants, etc.) as well as the possibility of pleasant and interesting excursions included.
That said, I don’t think it’s completely meaningless. In any case, it can serve as a starting point for those interested in the topic. So, I’m posting the original chart here, along with two versions with my personal annotations. A few comments:
- In principle and in my opinion, there should be a simple cost-quality relationship, which I represent with a diagonal sector running from the bottom-left quadrant to the top-right quadrant—that is, from cheap but low-quality cities to expensive cities offering a higher quality of life. It’s no surprise to find several Australian cities at one extreme of this sector, for example. Take Melbourne: sure, it’s a very pleasant city to live in, but living or visiting there is very expensive.
- The bottom-right and top-left quadrants: these are the cities that don’t fit this expected relationship:
o Bottom-right quadrant: expensive cities with mediocre quality of life. London and Paris are here, along with several U.S. cities. No surprise there. The worst is Los Angeles, closely followed by London, Paris, New York, Chicago, Milan... I don’t think that’s a huge revelation. o Top-left quadrant: relatively affordable cities with a good quality of life. We find cities in Brazil (Curitiba, Florianópolis), Turkey (Antalya), Spain, and Portugal. I’m intrigued by the presence of Russian cities and Islamabad—again, who are the people rating these cities?
I was drawn to this chart after returning from a trip to Japan. I know some travelers don’t think much of Tokyo, but I had a good impression of it. So, I’m inclined to agree with ranking Tokyo right near Lisbon in the best quadrant. I’m even wondering if it wouldn’t be a good idea to move there for a few months. Other cities in Japan could be worth considering...
What do you think?
Hey everyone! 😊
Aircraft manufacturers will probably adapt in the coming years, but until future planes are designed to handle severe turbulence directly linked to climate change, personally, I’ll only unbuckle my seatbelt to go to the bathroom and take a few steps to keep my blood circulating.
I already made it a habit to stay buckled up during my flights.
My only issue is my preference for aisle seats—getting hit in the face with luggage isn’t great 😅.
What about you?
Hi everyone,
Since the safety reports on Peru are sometimes a bit outdated, I got curious and checked the Ministry of Foreign Affairs website for travel advice.
It’s honestly pretty worrying!!
Here’s the link: https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/fr/conseils-aux-voyageurs/conseils-par-pays/perou/
Among other things, they don’t just mention fake taxis that rob you or express kidnappings (especially in Arequipa), but also drugs that can be slipped into your drink if left unattended, "with the risk of scopolamine being added."
They’ve marked the Cuzco region as a red zone (formally avoid!!) and central Lima as an orange zone, "to avoid after dark."
What do those who’ve been there recently think?
Among other things, they don’t just mention fake taxis that rob you or express kidnappings (especially in Arequipa), but also drugs that can be slipped into your drink if left unattended, "with the risk of scopolamine being added."
They’ve marked the Cuzco region as a red zone (formally avoid!!) and central Lima as an orange zone, "to avoid after dark."
What do those who’ve been there recently think?
Curious travelers all share the same wish: to discover a country or region by stepping off the beaten path and avoiding tourist traps. Who wouldn’t agree with that?
But does that mean we should skip the tourist sites that guidebooks and local tourism offices tout as must-sees? Of course not!
On the Greek island of Rhodes, Lindos, the "Pearl of the South," is undoubtedly the most visited village. Making the trip there is enough to understand its appeal—and I’ll admit, I too fell under the spell of this enchanting place. Through this post and these photos, I want to share my memories, impressions, and a lot of my enthusiasm.
First, there’s that stunning panoramic view you get from the road when arriving from the north of the island. The urge to stop is irresistible.
Perched on a rocky spur, an imposing citadel overlooks a village with that classic Greek charm—whitewashed houses. At the foot of the hill, you can see a perfectly curved bay (the arc is almost flawless) with deep blue waters bordering a lovely stretch of light sand...
With an artist’s eye, you could say this landscape is an ideal painting, and what a beautiful palette of colors! A photographer’s eye will be delighted by the balance of the composition, and any traveler who loves beautiful scenery will simply be captivated by this exceptional view.
This plunging viewpoint is a delicious preview of the site, making me eager to discover more and see Lindos in every detail.
The road winds along the mountainside for about two kilometers before reaching the destination—well, you quickly realize you can’t drive into the narrow alleys! No, you have to leave your car in the parking lots near the village. Spaces are already filling up with private cars and a neat line of tour buses—so we won’t be the only ones visiting Lindos this morning!
The main street, at the heart of the village, is a succession of cafés, tavernas serving ouzo/feta/moussaka, and souvenir shops (T-shirts, pottery, trinkets, flags...). At peak hours, it’s the usual tourist hustle and bustle—easy to imagine.
Fortunately, just a few steps down a side alley, and you quickly find calm and almost solitude.
Aren’t there any cats in Lindos? Not really—domestic felines are everywhere in the village’s alleys. Here are two: a black-and-white one resting on a windowsill and another, all white, heading toward a dead end. In that narrow lane sits an elderly man, his face weathered by the sun, with a salt-and-pepper mustache. Our eyes meet, and I greet him with a "Kalimera" (good morning in Greek, one of the few words I know in the local language!). That earns me a hint of a smile, followed by a question. He’s asking for a cigarette—sorry, my friend, but I don’t smoke!
Wandering, observing, even getting lost in these narrow alleys—that’s how to truly appreciate Lindos. Dazzling white walls, beautiful homes (some dating back to the 15th century), entrances framed by Gothic arches, and wreaths or bouquets of dried flowers adorning the facades. Here and there, muffled conversations can be heard through half-closed shutters, and an ajar door offers a glimpse of lovely inner courtyards where the reds and purples of bougainvillea contrast with the white walls. The locals also add beautiful decorative touches to the floors of patios or stair steps, with black-and-white pebble mosaics forming geometric patterns.
At times, the silence of the alleys away from the center is broken by the puttering of a scooter or hybrid vehicles—half-scooter, half-van—that barely squeeze between the walls of the narrow lanes!
After crisscrossing this real labyrinth, I arrive in front of the village’s main church, the Church of Panagia. A beautiful building dedicated to the Virgin, restored in the 15th century by the Knights of the Order of St. John.
Looking up to admire the bell tower of this Greek Orthodox church, I catch a glimpse among the clustered rooftops of part of the fortifications overlooking the town—the next step in my discovery of Lindos’ heritage.
To reach the citadel’s rock, you’re offered "Lindos taxis" at every corner—donkey rides. The effect is guaranteed for tourists discouraged by the 115 meters of elevation to climb to reach the ramparts: bursts of laughter, donkey hooves slipping on the cobblestones, and the capricious moods of these sometimes stubborn animals. Hee-haw!
You guessed it—I chose to walk up the path along the mountainside. The route reveals magnificent panoramas of the village and the coast, lined with pink oleanders, and you breathe in the fresh air among the olive trees—though sometimes the unmistakable smell of donkey droppings fills the air, with the sea breeze helping to disperse it.
Climbing the fortress steps is like traveling back in time. Here, the testimonies of Lindos’ rich history unfold before visitors’ eyes.
First, the imposing ramparts, built in the Middle Ages by the Knights of the Order of St. John—master builders of defensive structures whose primary mission was to aid and care for pilgrims wounded during the Crusades.
Within the fortifications, you’ll also find the remains of a Byzantine-era church from the 13th century, with its frescoes and murals. Further up, at the top of the rocks, you encounter ancient Greece: the acropolis and the temple dedicated to the goddess Athena. According to historians, the first inhabitants of the site were the Minoans, around 1200 BCE. An ambitious architectural restoration program aims to bring this past back to life.
But once you reach the ancient esplanade, most visitors head straight for the ramparts. The view through their openings is simply breathtaking and dizzying. On the sea side, the cliff drops steeply, and at the foot of the cliffs lies another bay, its shape reminiscent of a heart. Turquoise waters and a small white chapel surrounded by oleanders.
Seeing this panorama, you tell yourself you absolutely must visit it before leaving Lindos.
On the village side, the view is just as stunning—a true aerial perspective of the entire town and its charming white houses. You can easily spot the church with its red-tiled roof. Among the cluster of houses, some have flat rooftops—these belonged to the captains. Lindos was once an important commercial port, strategically located on the maritime route from Europe to the East. From their terraces, these famous ship captains could watch the comings and goings of their vessels.
Back then, Lindos was the capital of Rhodes and had nearly 17,000 inhabitants—far more than the 700 current residents. But these locals proudly claim Lindos is still the capital of Rhodes—well, a tourist capital, at least!
From the vantage point of these ramparts, you also overlook the tiny beach below. The sight of it can only make you want to take a dip—my next stop, a welcome break after the historical and cultural visit.
Walking back through the village via different alleys, I pass some beautiful homes and new chapels, like the one I’m in front of now—a white dome, a classic example of Greek island religious architecture. Dedicated to St. George, it dates back to the 14th century.
Time for some beach fun—that’s Lindos too! A chance to take a dip in crystal-clear, delicious waters with that unmistakable view of Lindos as your backdrop.
Now, heading toward St. Paul’s Bay—the one I spotted from the citadel. Seen from ground level, it’s even more charming, with its little white chapel nestled against the cliffs. The bay and the church are named after the Apostle Paul. History—or legend—tells of the religious figure stopping here during a journey between Ephesus and Syria.
These days, the chapel is a hit with newlyweds—celebrations seem to be back-to-back this afternoon. The idyllic setting is perfect for a beautiful keepsake photo, as any amateur photographer would agree!
As the hours pass, the flow of day-trippers thins out, and Lindos regains a sense of calm and authenticity that suits it so well. As if by magic, the fading light bathes the village in a golden hue—worth admiring without restraint.
Though Lindos is well sheltered from the sea, nestled in its protective cove, its entire past is oriented toward the open water. To etch this unique site even deeper into my memory, I want to see Lindos again from the sea.
The boat, "Captain Manolis," is ready. This morning, we’re at the pebble beach of Vlicha, just a short distance from the village.
The start of the voyage takes us along stark rocky cliffs—a mineral world animated by seabirds, which is classic, but also by goats, which is more unusual. These sure-footed caprins navigate the cliffside along the rock strata—no fear of heights here!
Then, your gaze is drawn to Lindos again, always Lindos—a viewpoint that’s also worth the detour: perched fortifications, white village, and a broad expanse of deep blue in the foreground.
A palette of blues enriched by the waters of the bay just south of the village. The play of light, the reflection of the sky, the transparency of the sea, combined with sandy seabeds, create a breathtaking result: an unreal, almost magical shade of blue. The deep blue!
Puff! Puff! Puff! The boat’s engine slows down. Our captain seems focused and attentive as we navigate through a narrow corridor of jagged rocks. These impressive cliffs have sparked sailors’ imaginations, and our captain points out the lion. A wild feline in the area? Not exactly, but a rock whose shape might suggest a lion’s head—why not, from a certain angle? Just as you start to see the resemblance, the image fades—a fleeting lion, like a mirage.
Twilight also offers visitors fleeting and magical sights. As the deep blue envelops the atmosphere, the lights enhance Lindos’ panorama.
And to add an original and aesthetic touch (as if it were needed!), the amateur photographer in me plays with my camera’s aperture to make the bay and village sparkle with dozens of stars. Isn’t Lindos called the "Pearl of the South"? A pearl that sometimes shines brilliantly!
LINDOS ISLAND OF RHODES (GREECE) May 2011
Tips: To avoid the crowds of tourists arriving (by boat and especially by bus or car!) for a day trip, it’s best to arrive before 9 AM. Also note: the visit to the Citadel/Ancient Ruins starts at 8:30 AM and closes at 3 PM. Ticket to access the site: 6 €. In the late afternoon, the lighting is beautiful over the village—a splendid viewpoint from the road leading to St. Paul’s Bay. Boat excursion with "Captain Manolis": daily departures (May to September) from Vlicha Beach (a bay 3 km north of Lindos), 25 €.
But does that mean we should skip the tourist sites that guidebooks and local tourism offices tout as must-sees? Of course not!
On the Greek island of Rhodes, Lindos, the "Pearl of the South," is undoubtedly the most visited village. Making the trip there is enough to understand its appeal—and I’ll admit, I too fell under the spell of this enchanting place. Through this post and these photos, I want to share my memories, impressions, and a lot of my enthusiasm.
First, there’s that stunning panoramic view you get from the road when arriving from the north of the island. The urge to stop is irresistible.
Perched on a rocky spur, an imposing citadel overlooks a village with that classic Greek charm—whitewashed houses. At the foot of the hill, you can see a perfectly curved bay (the arc is almost flawless) with deep blue waters bordering a lovely stretch of light sand...
With an artist’s eye, you could say this landscape is an ideal painting, and what a beautiful palette of colors! A photographer’s eye will be delighted by the balance of the composition, and any traveler who loves beautiful scenery will simply be captivated by this exceptional view.
This plunging viewpoint is a delicious preview of the site, making me eager to discover more and see Lindos in every detail.
The road winds along the mountainside for about two kilometers before reaching the destination—well, you quickly realize you can’t drive into the narrow alleys! No, you have to leave your car in the parking lots near the village. Spaces are already filling up with private cars and a neat line of tour buses—so we won’t be the only ones visiting Lindos this morning!
The main street, at the heart of the village, is a succession of cafés, tavernas serving ouzo/feta/moussaka, and souvenir shops (T-shirts, pottery, trinkets, flags...). At peak hours, it’s the usual tourist hustle and bustle—easy to imagine.
Fortunately, just a few steps down a side alley, and you quickly find calm and almost solitude.
Aren’t there any cats in Lindos? Not really—domestic felines are everywhere in the village’s alleys. Here are two: a black-and-white one resting on a windowsill and another, all white, heading toward a dead end. In that narrow lane sits an elderly man, his face weathered by the sun, with a salt-and-pepper mustache. Our eyes meet, and I greet him with a "Kalimera" (good morning in Greek, one of the few words I know in the local language!). That earns me a hint of a smile, followed by a question. He’s asking for a cigarette—sorry, my friend, but I don’t smoke!
Wandering, observing, even getting lost in these narrow alleys—that’s how to truly appreciate Lindos. Dazzling white walls, beautiful homes (some dating back to the 15th century), entrances framed by Gothic arches, and wreaths or bouquets of dried flowers adorning the facades. Here and there, muffled conversations can be heard through half-closed shutters, and an ajar door offers a glimpse of lovely inner courtyards where the reds and purples of bougainvillea contrast with the white walls. The locals also add beautiful decorative touches to the floors of patios or stair steps, with black-and-white pebble mosaics forming geometric patterns.
At times, the silence of the alleys away from the center is broken by the puttering of a scooter or hybrid vehicles—half-scooter, half-van—that barely squeeze between the walls of the narrow lanes!
After crisscrossing this real labyrinth, I arrive in front of the village’s main church, the Church of Panagia. A beautiful building dedicated to the Virgin, restored in the 15th century by the Knights of the Order of St. John.
Looking up to admire the bell tower of this Greek Orthodox church, I catch a glimpse among the clustered rooftops of part of the fortifications overlooking the town—the next step in my discovery of Lindos’ heritage.
To reach the citadel’s rock, you’re offered "Lindos taxis" at every corner—donkey rides. The effect is guaranteed for tourists discouraged by the 115 meters of elevation to climb to reach the ramparts: bursts of laughter, donkey hooves slipping on the cobblestones, and the capricious moods of these sometimes stubborn animals. Hee-haw!
You guessed it—I chose to walk up the path along the mountainside. The route reveals magnificent panoramas of the village and the coast, lined with pink oleanders, and you breathe in the fresh air among the olive trees—though sometimes the unmistakable smell of donkey droppings fills the air, with the sea breeze helping to disperse it.
Climbing the fortress steps is like traveling back in time. Here, the testimonies of Lindos’ rich history unfold before visitors’ eyes.
First, the imposing ramparts, built in the Middle Ages by the Knights of the Order of St. John—master builders of defensive structures whose primary mission was to aid and care for pilgrims wounded during the Crusades.
Within the fortifications, you’ll also find the remains of a Byzantine-era church from the 13th century, with its frescoes and murals. Further up, at the top of the rocks, you encounter ancient Greece: the acropolis and the temple dedicated to the goddess Athena. According to historians, the first inhabitants of the site were the Minoans, around 1200 BCE. An ambitious architectural restoration program aims to bring this past back to life.
But once you reach the ancient esplanade, most visitors head straight for the ramparts. The view through their openings is simply breathtaking and dizzying. On the sea side, the cliff drops steeply, and at the foot of the cliffs lies another bay, its shape reminiscent of a heart. Turquoise waters and a small white chapel surrounded by oleanders.
Seeing this panorama, you tell yourself you absolutely must visit it before leaving Lindos.
On the village side, the view is just as stunning—a true aerial perspective of the entire town and its charming white houses. You can easily spot the church with its red-tiled roof. Among the cluster of houses, some have flat rooftops—these belonged to the captains. Lindos was once an important commercial port, strategically located on the maritime route from Europe to the East. From their terraces, these famous ship captains could watch the comings and goings of their vessels.
Back then, Lindos was the capital of Rhodes and had nearly 17,000 inhabitants—far more than the 700 current residents. But these locals proudly claim Lindos is still the capital of Rhodes—well, a tourist capital, at least!
From the vantage point of these ramparts, you also overlook the tiny beach below. The sight of it can only make you want to take a dip—my next stop, a welcome break after the historical and cultural visit.
Walking back through the village via different alleys, I pass some beautiful homes and new chapels, like the one I’m in front of now—a white dome, a classic example of Greek island religious architecture. Dedicated to St. George, it dates back to the 14th century.
Time for some beach fun—that’s Lindos too! A chance to take a dip in crystal-clear, delicious waters with that unmistakable view of Lindos as your backdrop.
Now, heading toward St. Paul’s Bay—the one I spotted from the citadel. Seen from ground level, it’s even more charming, with its little white chapel nestled against the cliffs. The bay and the church are named after the Apostle Paul. History—or legend—tells of the religious figure stopping here during a journey between Ephesus and Syria.
These days, the chapel is a hit with newlyweds—celebrations seem to be back-to-back this afternoon. The idyllic setting is perfect for a beautiful keepsake photo, as any amateur photographer would agree!
As the hours pass, the flow of day-trippers thins out, and Lindos regains a sense of calm and authenticity that suits it so well. As if by magic, the fading light bathes the village in a golden hue—worth admiring without restraint.
Though Lindos is well sheltered from the sea, nestled in its protective cove, its entire past is oriented toward the open water. To etch this unique site even deeper into my memory, I want to see Lindos again from the sea.
The boat, "Captain Manolis," is ready. This morning, we’re at the pebble beach of Vlicha, just a short distance from the village.
The start of the voyage takes us along stark rocky cliffs—a mineral world animated by seabirds, which is classic, but also by goats, which is more unusual. These sure-footed caprins navigate the cliffside along the rock strata—no fear of heights here!
Then, your gaze is drawn to Lindos again, always Lindos—a viewpoint that’s also worth the detour: perched fortifications, white village, and a broad expanse of deep blue in the foreground.
A palette of blues enriched by the waters of the bay just south of the village. The play of light, the reflection of the sky, the transparency of the sea, combined with sandy seabeds, create a breathtaking result: an unreal, almost magical shade of blue. The deep blue!
Puff! Puff! Puff! The boat’s engine slows down. Our captain seems focused and attentive as we navigate through a narrow corridor of jagged rocks. These impressive cliffs have sparked sailors’ imaginations, and our captain points out the lion. A wild feline in the area? Not exactly, but a rock whose shape might suggest a lion’s head—why not, from a certain angle? Just as you start to see the resemblance, the image fades—a fleeting lion, like a mirage.
Twilight also offers visitors fleeting and magical sights. As the deep blue envelops the atmosphere, the lights enhance Lindos’ panorama.
And to add an original and aesthetic touch (as if it were needed!), the amateur photographer in me plays with my camera’s aperture to make the bay and village sparkle with dozens of stars. Isn’t Lindos called the "Pearl of the South"? A pearl that sometimes shines brilliantly!
LINDOS ISLAND OF RHODES (GREECE) May 2011Tips: To avoid the crowds of tourists arriving (by boat and especially by bus or car!) for a day trip, it’s best to arrive before 9 AM. Also note: the visit to the Citadel/Ancient Ruins starts at 8:30 AM and closes at 3 PM. Ticket to access the site: 6 €. In the late afternoon, the lighting is beautiful over the village—a splendid viewpoint from the road leading to St. Paul’s Bay. Boat excursion with "Captain Manolis": daily departures (May to September) from Vlicha Beach (a bay 3 km north of Lindos), 25 €.
hi fellow travelers,
I'm "finalizing" a trip with my adventurous family (wife + 3 kids aged 16, 14, and 8) for this Easter break in Thailand (we'll be there from 04/19 to 05/01).
I'm going through the site and wanted to thank you all for the tips and insights you share on the forum. They're really valuable. But boy, it's tough to sketch out an itinerary
Of course, my backpacking route might be debatable, but I'm trying to target this path to get a first taste of the country's different "facets" and keep everyone in the family happy 😛
For this first trip, we're sticking to the classics and planning to explore a different side of the Land of Smiles in the future:
- arrival in BKK at 4 PM on 04/19 ==> leaving the same day at 7 PM for Chiang Mai (I "hesitated" with the 5:30 PM flight but was worried we wouldn't have enough time to switch from British AW to Thai Airways + airport fees + baggage + customs, etc. )
- from 04/20 to 04/23 ==> Chiang Mai with the main highlights (we've picked: Doi Suthep, Wat Pha Lat, elephant sanctuary, Doi Inthanon, the old city, Wat Chedi, Wat Phra Singh).
==> For the elephant sanctuary: any recommendations? Morning or afternoon visit?
==> It might seem ambitious, but we're considering a day trip to Chiang Rai—though it's not a must. Yes, we know it means ~6 hours of travel in one day.
- direct flight on the morning of 04/24 to Krabi ==> Railay - Phang Nga ==> this part isn't finalized yet (we won't stay in Krabi).
For those who've been there, which part of the south would be best weather-wise during this period?
We'd stay in the south until 04/28 and take a 8 PM flight to BKK.
- BKK on 04/29, 04/30, and part of 05/01 before our flight to London at 11 PM.
We'll hit the must-see/classic spots there.
If you have time to share some insights, I'd really appreciate it.
Thanks a million to everyone!
Hédi.
I'm "finalizing" a trip with my adventurous family (wife + 3 kids aged 16, 14, and 8) for this Easter break in Thailand (we'll be there from 04/19 to 05/01).
I'm going through the site and wanted to thank you all for the tips and insights you share on the forum. They're really valuable. But boy, it's tough to sketch out an itinerary
Of course, my backpacking route might be debatable, but I'm trying to target this path to get a first taste of the country's different "facets" and keep everyone in the family happy 😛
For this first trip, we're sticking to the classics and planning to explore a different side of the Land of Smiles in the future:
- arrival in BKK at 4 PM on 04/19 ==> leaving the same day at 7 PM for Chiang Mai (I "hesitated" with the 5:30 PM flight but was worried we wouldn't have enough time to switch from British AW to Thai Airways + airport fees + baggage + customs, etc. )
- from 04/20 to 04/23 ==> Chiang Mai with the main highlights (we've picked: Doi Suthep, Wat Pha Lat, elephant sanctuary, Doi Inthanon, the old city, Wat Chedi, Wat Phra Singh).
==> For the elephant sanctuary: any recommendations? Morning or afternoon visit?
==> It might seem ambitious, but we're considering a day trip to Chiang Rai—though it's not a must. Yes, we know it means ~6 hours of travel in one day.
- direct flight on the morning of 04/24 to Krabi ==> Railay - Phang Nga ==> this part isn't finalized yet (we won't stay in Krabi).
For those who've been there, which part of the south would be best weather-wise during this period?
We'd stay in the south until 04/28 and take a 8 PM flight to BKK.
- BKK on 04/29, 04/30, and part of 05/01 before our flight to London at 11 PM.
We'll hit the must-see/classic spots there.
If you have time to share some insights, I'd really appreciate it.
Thanks a million to everyone!
Hédi.
😎Fellow traveling cyclists or not, all of you who love travel, the pleasure of physical effort, nature, beautiful machines, people with true passions they seek to fulfill, and who also enjoy reading great literature about all this—the *200* magazine is for you just as it is for me. I should mention I have no financial or other interest in this (in an era where we accuse our politicians of all sorts of vile interests, I prefer to take precautions). I’ve been subscribed since the beginning, and every three months, I get my 130 pages of dreams (the magazine just went from 110 to 130 pages).
It covers everything from the trans-America route to the TCR (Trans Continental Race) from Belgium to a small town in Turkey, with mind-blowing averages—4,000 km and 80,000 m of elevation gain in 8 days and 15 hours for the winner. Let that sink in, and all of it without assistance—accepting a patch could penalize you. There’s also a story about crossing Iran, encountering one of the world’s most welcoming populations, following in the footsteps of Nicolas Bouvier, as well as retirees leisurely traversing France. The common thread in all these stories? Beautiful writing. Take, for example, a stunning article: *"Passengers of the Cold: From Edinburgh to Thurso, at the very north of Scotland, 550 km of moors, coasts, and icy wind. In Thurso, the road ends at a quay, facing the Orkney Islands. We wanted a November trip, off-season. We wanted to surprise winter. Just before the snow."* A sublime piece on the experience of facing adversity and the chance encounters along the road and in the elements.
Before I embarked on my own bike trips, I dreamed a lot about them—from the Atacama to the Gobi, along the Mekong, and not forgetting France. And now, these 130 pages every quarter keep those dreamy vibes alive through stories written in the most beautiful prose.
I’ll stop here because it might sound like I’m advertising, but if you don’t know *200*, I invite you to discover it. It’ll give you wings for the most incredible challenges or simply reinforce your desire for slow rides with your eyes open to others and nature.
A little news to wrap up: Axel Carion and a friend just broke the record for crossing South America from Colombia to Ushuaia in 59 days. On its own, that doesn’t mean much, but I can’t help it—it makes me dream. You should see how he talks about it, the flashes of that wild nature he’s stored away: a snowstorm at Paso Jama and the surreal sight of the suddenly snow-covered Licancabur!
Luc PS: The magazine is called *200* because a day’s ride starts at 200 km—well, I’ve never done a ride like that since my longest was 167 km (with 18 kg of luggage, mind you), but why not one day? The magazine will explain how to tackle your first 200, and then the question in conclusion: when will you do your first 300?😏
It covers everything from the trans-America route to the TCR (Trans Continental Race) from Belgium to a small town in Turkey, with mind-blowing averages—4,000 km and 80,000 m of elevation gain in 8 days and 15 hours for the winner. Let that sink in, and all of it without assistance—accepting a patch could penalize you. There’s also a story about crossing Iran, encountering one of the world’s most welcoming populations, following in the footsteps of Nicolas Bouvier, as well as retirees leisurely traversing France. The common thread in all these stories? Beautiful writing. Take, for example, a stunning article: *"Passengers of the Cold: From Edinburgh to Thurso, at the very north of Scotland, 550 km of moors, coasts, and icy wind. In Thurso, the road ends at a quay, facing the Orkney Islands. We wanted a November trip, off-season. We wanted to surprise winter. Just before the snow."* A sublime piece on the experience of facing adversity and the chance encounters along the road and in the elements.
Before I embarked on my own bike trips, I dreamed a lot about them—from the Atacama to the Gobi, along the Mekong, and not forgetting France. And now, these 130 pages every quarter keep those dreamy vibes alive through stories written in the most beautiful prose.
I’ll stop here because it might sound like I’m advertising, but if you don’t know *200*, I invite you to discover it. It’ll give you wings for the most incredible challenges or simply reinforce your desire for slow rides with your eyes open to others and nature.
A little news to wrap up: Axel Carion and a friend just broke the record for crossing South America from Colombia to Ushuaia in 59 days. On its own, that doesn’t mean much, but I can’t help it—it makes me dream. You should see how he talks about it, the flashes of that wild nature he’s stored away: a snowstorm at Paso Jama and the surreal sight of the suddenly snow-covered Licancabur!
Luc PS: The magazine is called *200* because a day’s ride starts at 200 km—well, I’ve never done a ride like that since my longest was 167 km (with 18 kg of luggage, mind you), but why not one day? The magazine will explain how to tackle your first 200, and then the question in conclusion: when will you do your first 300?😏
Bom dia, travelers,
A little feedback from our discovery of Madeira—there aren’t many out there! Hoping it might be useful to some of you 🙂
We stayed 7 days in Madeira between May 18th and 25th.
Base: Funchal, the Lido hotel area. A practical neighborhood (lots of restaurants, shops, buses, etc.) but lacking charm. While getting back to Funchal is quick thanks to the road infrastructure, the outskirts of the city are particularly congested in the morning and evening, often due to tourist buses blocking traffic. Plus, even though Funchal enjoys milder weather compared to the rest of the island, you won’t see any sunrises or sunsets there! In short, if I were to do it again, I wouldn’t stay in Funchal for 7 days, even if it’s convenient to unpack once and for all.
Car rental for the week with Avis through locationdevoiture.fr (now Carigami). Zero-excess insurance, two drivers included, full tank on pickup, return with a full tank. After everything I’d read, I was dreading it. No issues at pickup or return. A Citroën C3 with 4,000 km on the clock, which served us perfectly. We brought our own GPS and map, which came in handy. There are signs, of course, but not always where you need them 😛.
Guides & maps: The Rother for hikes, the *Évasion* guide (quite general but very complete), and the Sunflower (borrowed), which I liked less—I found the explanations less clear and a bit messy, but maybe it was just me being unclear 😇. We also had the Freytag & Berndt map at 1:40,000, very useful when exploring the tiniest roads.
Day 1: In the morning, we head to CURRAL DAS FREIRAS. The viewpoint is pretty, very well developed (too much?). We take a short walk down the path as recommended in the Sunflower guide. The environment is wild but doesn’t offer much in terms of views.
We then head east via the expressway. Destination: PONTA DE SÃO LOURENÇO. The sky is overcast there, while just earlier, we were under the sun 😕! We’ll have to deal with the weather’s whims—a constant in Madeira! Off we go for a 3.5-hour round-trip hike, including photo stops, a picnic, and the climb to Ponta do Furado at the very end.
It’s nice, very open, and unlike anywhere else on the island. But it’s also *very* crowded. Mass tourism where everyone’s staring at their feet, barely a smile, hardly a hello 😠. The vibe kind of kills the charm. We were there at lunchtime but didn’t escape the crowds.
Practical detail that matters: no restrooms at the parking lot, none at the Casa do Sardinha, and an environment with no trees or bushes where you can see for miles. Ladies, plan ahead... A hike you should do regardless, with no major difficulty aside from the final climb, though it "undulates" constantly. The trail is perfectly safe.
Back at the parking lot, we take the road to PORTO DA CRUZ, a small village nestled at the foot of the mountain. The natural pools, being cleaned, are empty, and the seaside promenade, splashed by waves, feels a bit gloomy. The charm isn’t there. Return to Funchal via PORTELA and the MIRADOURO DOS INGLESES, which is tricky to find—hidden at the back of a lovely park, tended like an old lady from the 19th century, maybe the former owner of the place...
To be continued... 😉
We stayed 7 days in Madeira between May 18th and 25th.
Base: Funchal, the Lido hotel area. A practical neighborhood (lots of restaurants, shops, buses, etc.) but lacking charm. While getting back to Funchal is quick thanks to the road infrastructure, the outskirts of the city are particularly congested in the morning and evening, often due to tourist buses blocking traffic. Plus, even though Funchal enjoys milder weather compared to the rest of the island, you won’t see any sunrises or sunsets there! In short, if I were to do it again, I wouldn’t stay in Funchal for 7 days, even if it’s convenient to unpack once and for all.
Car rental for the week with Avis through locationdevoiture.fr (now Carigami). Zero-excess insurance, two drivers included, full tank on pickup, return with a full tank. After everything I’d read, I was dreading it. No issues at pickup or return. A Citroën C3 with 4,000 km on the clock, which served us perfectly. We brought our own GPS and map, which came in handy. There are signs, of course, but not always where you need them 😛.
Guides & maps: The Rother for hikes, the *Évasion* guide (quite general but very complete), and the Sunflower (borrowed), which I liked less—I found the explanations less clear and a bit messy, but maybe it was just me being unclear 😇. We also had the Freytag & Berndt map at 1:40,000, very useful when exploring the tiniest roads.
Day 1: In the morning, we head to CURRAL DAS FREIRAS. The viewpoint is pretty, very well developed (too much?). We take a short walk down the path as recommended in the Sunflower guide. The environment is wild but doesn’t offer much in terms of views.
We then head east via the expressway. Destination: PONTA DE SÃO LOURENÇO. The sky is overcast there, while just earlier, we were under the sun 😕! We’ll have to deal with the weather’s whims—a constant in Madeira! Off we go for a 3.5-hour round-trip hike, including photo stops, a picnic, and the climb to Ponta do Furado at the very end.
It’s nice, very open, and unlike anywhere else on the island. But it’s also *very* crowded. Mass tourism where everyone’s staring at their feet, barely a smile, hardly a hello 😠. The vibe kind of kills the charm. We were there at lunchtime but didn’t escape the crowds.
Practical detail that matters: no restrooms at the parking lot, none at the Casa do Sardinha, and an environment with no trees or bushes where you can see for miles. Ladies, plan ahead... A hike you should do regardless, with no major difficulty aside from the final climb, though it "undulates" constantly. The trail is perfectly safe.
Back at the parking lot, we take the road to PORTO DA CRUZ, a small village nestled at the foot of the mountain. The natural pools, being cleaned, are empty, and the seaside promenade, splashed by waves, feels a bit gloomy. The charm isn’t there. Return to Funchal via PORTELA and the MIRADOURO DOS INGLESES, which is tricky to find—hidden at the back of a lovely park, tended like an old lady from the 19th century, maybe the former owner of the place...
To be continued... 😉
Hi,
I’m planning a trip to Oman, probably the first half of February to avoid the extreme heat and Ramadan.
But after checking various weather sites and reading accounts, I’m a bit worried about rain, which can apparently be frequent and heavy in February. I’d love to hear from travelers or locals who’ve been there recently.
What would be the ideal month to explore Oman without extreme heat or rain? November?
Also, it’s best to avoid visiting the wadis on weekends—does that mean Saturday and Sunday?
Thanks in advance for your tips!
Virginie
Thanks in advance for your tips!
Virginie
Hi,
We’ve planned a 3-week trip to Bali this summer with our 7-year-old daughter. The itinerary includes Sanur, Nusa Lembongan, Sidemen, Amed, and Ubud. The more time passes, the more we read about people getting sick—some with mild to severe traveler’s diarrhea, and many ending up in the hospital. We, as parents, have been through it in Egypt with pretty bad cases, but we’d really like to avoid that for our daughter. Even though there’s no zero risk, and we’ll be careful, can any of you reassure me? Not everyone got sick, right? I’d love to hear positive feedback from parents, but not just them 😊. Thanks in advance!
Hello from Quebec,
I’m a French-Canadian from Montreal. I’d love to go to Senegal during the Quebec winter to shorten this long season. Two people told me it’s not worth spending a lot of money to get there from Canada because there’s not much to discover. But I’m still skeptical. I’d love to read real testimonials from travelers who’ve been there, with as much info as possible. Thanks
Hi there,
For the Dakhla - Nouadhibou route, everyone only talks about taxis costing 350 - 400 MAD. But the bus only costs 260 MAD (Supratours). I’ve been searching in vain for info or testimonials from people who’ve taken the bus to Nouadhibou.
So, how’s the bus? And why does no one seem to take it?? Am I about to make a mistake or what?
Thanks!
For the Dakhla - Nouadhibou route, everyone only talks about taxis costing 350 - 400 MAD. But the bus only costs 260 MAD (Supratours). I’ve been searching in vain for info or testimonials from people who’ve taken the bus to Nouadhibou.
So, how’s the bus? And why does no one seem to take it?? Am I about to make a mistake or what?
Thanks!
struggling to find a decent flight to Thailand?????
Hi everyone, I’ve been traveling in Asia for over 30 years, often to Thailand, but only during the school holidays in February, April, and especially in the summer, departing from Marseille or Lyon.
For some time now, I’ve noticed it’s really hard to find a flight at a reasonable price (under 900 €) and, more importantly, with a decent itinerary (we’re often offered 2 or 3 layovers with total travel times of 40 or even 50 hours), and this is the case almost a year in advance. This is something we never saw even 4 years ago—I’m wondering: are there fewer flights available now...?
Marsyork
Hi everyone, I’ve been traveling in Asia for over 30 years, often to Thailand, but only during the school holidays in February, April, and especially in the summer, departing from Marseille or Lyon.
For some time now, I’ve noticed it’s really hard to find a flight at a reasonable price (under 900 €) and, more importantly, with a decent itinerary (we’re often offered 2 or 3 layovers with total travel times of 40 or even 50 hours), and this is the case almost a year in advance. This is something we never saw even 4 years ago—I’m wondering: are there fewer flights available now...?
Marsyork
Hi everyone,
I’m heading to the United States in August, specifically Grand Junction, Colorado, and I’d love to hear about your experiences with renting a car in this slightly tricky situation:
I still have my old French driver’s license (the pink paper version, still valid),
I didn’t have time to get an International Driving Permit (IDP),
And I plan to use a Visa debit card, not a credit card.
I’ve booked a car with Budget. I’ve seen that they *can* accept debit cards under certain conditions, especially at airport locations, but there are often high hold amounts for the deposit, and sometimes requirements like a return ticket or an extra ID. - Has anyone rented a car in the US under these conditions before? - Was the paper license accepted without any issues? - Did the debit card cause problems when putting down the security deposit? Any tips, personal stories, or warnings are super welcome! 😊 Thanks in advance!
I still have my old French driver’s license (the pink paper version, still valid),
I didn’t have time to get an International Driving Permit (IDP),
And I plan to use a Visa debit card, not a credit card.
I’ve booked a car with Budget. I’ve seen that they *can* accept debit cards under certain conditions, especially at airport locations, but there are often high hold amounts for the deposit, and sometimes requirements like a return ticket or an extra ID. - Has anyone rented a car in the US under these conditions before? - Was the paper license accepted without any issues? - Did the debit card cause problems when putting down the security deposit? Any tips, personal stories, or warnings are super welcome! 😊 Thanks in advance!
This trip took place in May 2023, a period of calm that later proved precarious.
Day of May 17
Departure from Marseille on El Al (tickets booked by ourselves, while the stay itself was organized by Voyageurs du Monde). Before check-in, six or seven El Al staff members conduct a security check—quite understandable, but they do it in total chaos. They send people to the left, then block them, redirect them to the right, for no apparent reason. Most of the staff don’t speak French, which complicates things. They work at an incomprehensible slow pace, stopping the interview to do something else, then coming back and starting over...
The flight goes smoothly, except for the meal service, which, for a four-hour flight that El Al delayed to lunchtime, is more than basic: a quarter-liter of water and a corned beef sandwich that’s absolutely disgusting and inedible. To get a coffee, you have to queue at the back of the plane. You end up missing Ryanair🙂
Arrival at Ben Gurion goes better than expected—the passport control is fairly quick, as is baggage delivery.
Transfer to the Lily and Bloom hotel, Lilienblaum Street (easy to remember 🙂)
As advised by Voyageurs du Monde, we book a table for the evening at the nearest restaurant, North Abraxas. Good atmosphere and decent food. We get a sense of the price level in Israeli restaurants.
Around us, diners share dishes placed in the middle of the table. Much more convivial than our individual plates!!
Day of May 18
The next morning, we go down for breakfast at 7:30 AM—a late hour, but the setup is slow, with the two servers taking their time. We ask the bartender for a long coffee and a black tea... It must be a complicated order because it takes him over 10 minutes to make it. He serves us with the grace of a dancer. A good breakfast if you’re not in a hurry, followed by a little stroll in the neighborhood, since our meet-up with Patrick Arfi, our guide for the day, isn’t until 10 AM. P. Arfi is a former publishing house director in Paris who has lived in Israel for a long time and has a vast cultural knowledge. After an initial chat, we head toward Jaffa, focusing on the Bauhaus buildings preserved by a clever urban policy that allows high-rise construction while maintaining old architectural ensembles.
This policy keeps the streets looking more human-scale than the usual high-rise districts in modern cities.
With the visit to Jaffa, Patrick introduces us to a fascinating slice of history, despite the temperature nearing 38°C. Jaffa, once an independent city, is now a neighborhood of Tel Aviv—a predominantly Muslim area. We notice a few buildings in poor condition. They belong to Palestinian families who left Tel Aviv. Otherwise, the city has been very well restored, apart from these few buildings.
A government agency rents out the ground floors of these buildings, which helps fund part of the security work. They also try to track down the owners and buy back the abandoned properties, but some refuse to sell. The visit is very touristy—most of the people we meet are tourists like us.
There’s very little local life, except in the lower part of the city. To be continued, as I’ve reached the allowed photo limit.
The next morning, we go down for breakfast at 7:30 AM—a late hour, but the setup is slow, with the two servers taking their time. We ask the bartender for a long coffee and a black tea... It must be a complicated order because it takes him over 10 minutes to make it. He serves us with the grace of a dancer. A good breakfast if you’re not in a hurry, followed by a little stroll in the neighborhood, since our meet-up with Patrick Arfi, our guide for the day, isn’t until 10 AM. P. Arfi is a former publishing house director in Paris who has lived in Israel for a long time and has a vast cultural knowledge. After an initial chat, we head toward Jaffa, focusing on the Bauhaus buildings preserved by a clever urban policy that allows high-rise construction while maintaining old architectural ensembles.
This policy keeps the streets looking more human-scale than the usual high-rise districts in modern cities.
With the visit to Jaffa, Patrick introduces us to a fascinating slice of history, despite the temperature nearing 38°C. Jaffa, once an independent city, is now a neighborhood of Tel Aviv—a predominantly Muslim area. We notice a few buildings in poor condition. They belong to Palestinian families who left Tel Aviv. Otherwise, the city has been very well restored, apart from these few buildings.
A government agency rents out the ground floors of these buildings, which helps fund part of the security work. They also try to track down the owners and buy back the abandoned properties, but some refuse to sell. The visit is very touristy—most of the people we meet are tourists like us.
There’s very little local life, except in the lower part of the city. To be continued, as I’ve reached the allowed photo limit.
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!
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!
Hello everyone.
First and foremost, I hope this topic won’t just focus on my region—the South of France—and that those of you who enjoy exchanging ideas will share what makes your own regions special.
Personally, I’ve often wanted to push back when people call us vulgar (though I’ll admit I sometimes play it up). At heart, we pure-blooded Southerners just have our own way of expressing ourselves, which differs from other regions. We also get heated in conversations pretty easily (some researchers say it’s the influence of the sun and climate in general).
What some perceive as vulgar, we don’t see that way at all.
Do you want a uniform world with no differences? If so, how do you handle traveling to places with cultures completely different from your own?
In the travel community, the word "authenticity" comes up a lot, and it often takes priority in people’s searches.
In my specific case, speaking a purely regional language without having gone to school for it doesn’t help with understanding on this forum. That’s what creates what you call controversies—and what I call passionate exchanges.
I remember a reply from a member in this thread: https://voyageforum.com/forum/ma-vie-en-camargue-pays-origine-en-colombie-pays-c-ur-d10778555/
It left me speechless and ended the conversation because, for him, that’s just how he sees things, and he refuses to debate it, sticking to his position. I’ll quote him, hoping he won’t hold it against me:
"For me, things like bullfighting, boxing, football, and MMA are just tangible proof that human evolution is still at a primitive stage."
For him, our Latin-origin bullfights are barbaric customs. For us *taurins*, we need to see men face wild beasts (bulls and *toros*) at the risk of their lives every day. Does that make us barbarians?
We’ve always had this need to confront death—it’s in our genes.
Take the example he gave about football: fans of the sport would be considered mentally underdeveloped. But what about a kid who’s passionate about the game and has that drive to be a winner, just like a boxer or athletes in other violent sports?
As a traveler myself, passionate about old stones and beautiful historic buildings, I’ve visited Rome but couldn’t fully appreciate it. Religion is everywhere, and I felt like I had a lead weight on my head realizing that millions of people worldwide have believed in a god for millennia.
I’ve also judged believers for basing their faith on archaic texts that don’t prove a god (or gods) ever existed—I still think that, but I’m open to being proven wrong so I can say, "You’ve convinced me I was mistaken."
- If everyone clings to their own ideas and positions, no discussion is possible, and that’s a shame.
I’ll take away two things from my forum interactions: some accuse me of being omnipresent when I just love exchanging ideas. My way of speaking is misunderstood (regional differences), even if I’ll admit I sometimes turn up the heat—or rather, the *aïoli* —which for me is just lively debates 🔥 (a regional specialty).
And my "mocking" side, which I really need to work on.
This topic isn’t just about me—I hope other forum members will share their own regional "specialties" . For example, in Alsace, some older folks switch to their local language when they don’t want outsiders to understand, and I still don’t know if it’s German or something else.
https://www.marseille-tourisme.com/decouvrez-marseille/traditions/le-parler-marseillais/
https://www.lexpress.fr/informations/accent-du-midi-ave-ou-sans_642635.html
First and foremost, I hope this topic won’t just focus on my region—the South of France—and that those of you who enjoy exchanging ideas will share what makes your own regions special.
Personally, I’ve often wanted to push back when people call us vulgar (though I’ll admit I sometimes play it up). At heart, we pure-blooded Southerners just have our own way of expressing ourselves, which differs from other regions. We also get heated in conversations pretty easily (some researchers say it’s the influence of the sun and climate in general).
What some perceive as vulgar, we don’t see that way at all.
Do you want a uniform world with no differences? If so, how do you handle traveling to places with cultures completely different from your own?
In the travel community, the word "authenticity" comes up a lot, and it often takes priority in people’s searches.
In my specific case, speaking a purely regional language without having gone to school for it doesn’t help with understanding on this forum. That’s what creates what you call controversies—and what I call passionate exchanges.
I remember a reply from a member in this thread: https://voyageforum.com/forum/ma-vie-en-camargue-pays-origine-en-colombie-pays-c-ur-d10778555/
It left me speechless and ended the conversation because, for him, that’s just how he sees things, and he refuses to debate it, sticking to his position. I’ll quote him, hoping he won’t hold it against me:
"For me, things like bullfighting, boxing, football, and MMA are just tangible proof that human evolution is still at a primitive stage."
For him, our Latin-origin bullfights are barbaric customs. For us *taurins*, we need to see men face wild beasts (bulls and *toros*) at the risk of their lives every day. Does that make us barbarians?
We’ve always had this need to confront death—it’s in our genes.
Take the example he gave about football: fans of the sport would be considered mentally underdeveloped. But what about a kid who’s passionate about the game and has that drive to be a winner, just like a boxer or athletes in other violent sports?
As a traveler myself, passionate about old stones and beautiful historic buildings, I’ve visited Rome but couldn’t fully appreciate it. Religion is everywhere, and I felt like I had a lead weight on my head realizing that millions of people worldwide have believed in a god for millennia.
I’ve also judged believers for basing their faith on archaic texts that don’t prove a god (or gods) ever existed—I still think that, but I’m open to being proven wrong so I can say, "You’ve convinced me I was mistaken."
- If everyone clings to their own ideas and positions, no discussion is possible, and that’s a shame.
I’ll take away two things from my forum interactions: some accuse me of being omnipresent when I just love exchanging ideas. My way of speaking is misunderstood (regional differences), even if I’ll admit I sometimes turn up the heat—or rather, the *aïoli* —which for me is just lively debates 🔥 (a regional specialty).
And my "mocking" side, which I really need to work on.
This topic isn’t just about me—I hope other forum members will share their own regional "specialties" . For example, in Alsace, some older folks switch to their local language when they don’t want outsiders to understand, and I still don’t know if it’s German or something else.
https://www.marseille-tourisme.com/decouvrez-marseille/traditions/le-parler-marseillais/
https://www.lexpress.fr/informations/accent-du-midi-ave-ou-sans_642635.html
Hi,
I just had a really bad experience leaving for Thailand with Etihad Airways, along with my partner and her 11-year-old son. We were denied boarding because the child’s passport was invalid (by about 3 days), as it’s indeed required to have 6 months of validity. But come on—just 3 days over! On top of that, we were able to check in online for our round-trip flight (just the flights, no extras), entered our passport numbers and expiry dates, and even had to check in online again 30 hours before departure, where we got our boarding passes without any issues. How is it possible that no one called, warned, or even blocked us online? Instead, they waited to tell us at the airport during baggage check-in. I’ve asked the airline for a full refund of our expenses—do I have any chance? Thanks for your help
Hi there,
I’ve read that medication supplies shouldn’t exceed 30 days.
How can I handle a two-month stay?
Thanks for your tips!
Thanks for your tips!
Hi there,
I’m planning a trip to Bangladesh for tourism during All Saints' Day 25. The government website is pretty discouraging! I’d love to hear from people living there or who’ve been recently before I buy my tickets.
How’s the security level and feasibility of a circuit (boat, train, bus around the country)? We’re used to basic conditions :)
Thanks in advance for your tips!
Cécile
Hi everyone,
I’d like to share the misadventure I had a few days ago when returning from French Polynesia.
It’s 10:30 PM on October 29, 2024. My wife and I just had an incredible trip and are about to face the gray skies of Paris again. We decide to buy two bottles of Mana'O rum as a souvenir from the Tahiti Dutyfree shop. The staff is charming, the price attractive, everything goes smoothly. They give us our products in a special customs bag—all good. Then my wife has a doubt: we’re transiting through the US, will the bottles make it through customs?
That’s when the trouble starts. I go back to the counter to confirm everything is in order and the products will pass through. They reassure me, explaining that with the special bag, there won’t be any issues. My wife checks customer reviews that say otherwise, so I go back. Again, they tell me there won’t be a problem and that they’ve never received complaints or negative feedback. After half an hour, I return, thinking I’d rather not take the risk. This time, they insist there won’t be a problem and even tell me that if US customs confiscate the bottles, they’ll refund me in full upon presenting the receipt and proof of confiscation: “contact us on Facebook, we’ll refund you.”
Ten hours later, I’m standing in front of a customs officer who opens the hermetically sealed bag and runs my bottles through some kind of obscure machine. Each bottle is tested three times—each fails. I’m not the only one; many other travelers have their bottles confiscated too. Without hesitation, I grab my phone and document the scene with the officer’s permission.
A few days later, I contact Tahiti Dutyfree, and they refuse to refund the products, claiming responsibility lies with US customs. A misleading response, since it would mean absolving themselves of the responsibility of selling products banned from entering the US to customers who are *required* to bring these purchases into the country.
For the record, it’s impossible that the management of this shop isn’t aware of the issue. They continue selling these items to customers, fully knowing they’ll end up in a trash bin at Seattle or Los Angeles airports.
I’d like to warn Tahiti Dutyfree customers and travelers who might want to bring back this kind of souvenir from French Polynesia, so my experience can help others avoid getting scammed.
If you’ve also been a victim of this, don’t hesitate to reply to this post :)
My poor bottles that will end up alone
The official ICAO-STEB duty-free bag
The US customs officer who let me capture this sweet moment
I’d like to share the misadventure I had a few days ago when returning from French Polynesia.
It’s 10:30 PM on October 29, 2024. My wife and I just had an incredible trip and are about to face the gray skies of Paris again. We decide to buy two bottles of Mana'O rum as a souvenir from the Tahiti Dutyfree shop. The staff is charming, the price attractive, everything goes smoothly. They give us our products in a special customs bag—all good. Then my wife has a doubt: we’re transiting through the US, will the bottles make it through customs?
That’s when the trouble starts. I go back to the counter to confirm everything is in order and the products will pass through. They reassure me, explaining that with the special bag, there won’t be any issues. My wife checks customer reviews that say otherwise, so I go back. Again, they tell me there won’t be a problem and that they’ve never received complaints or negative feedback. After half an hour, I return, thinking I’d rather not take the risk. This time, they insist there won’t be a problem and even tell me that if US customs confiscate the bottles, they’ll refund me in full upon presenting the receipt and proof of confiscation: “contact us on Facebook, we’ll refund you.”
Ten hours later, I’m standing in front of a customs officer who opens the hermetically sealed bag and runs my bottles through some kind of obscure machine. Each bottle is tested three times—each fails. I’m not the only one; many other travelers have their bottles confiscated too. Without hesitation, I grab my phone and document the scene with the officer’s permission.
A few days later, I contact Tahiti Dutyfree, and they refuse to refund the products, claiming responsibility lies with US customs. A misleading response, since it would mean absolving themselves of the responsibility of selling products banned from entering the US to customers who are *required* to bring these purchases into the country.
For the record, it’s impossible that the management of this shop isn’t aware of the issue. They continue selling these items to customers, fully knowing they’ll end up in a trash bin at Seattle or Los Angeles airports.
I’d like to warn Tahiti Dutyfree customers and travelers who might want to bring back this kind of souvenir from French Polynesia, so my experience can help others avoid getting scammed.
If you’ve also been a victim of this, don’t hesitate to reply to this post :)
My poor bottles that will end up alone
The official ICAO-STEB duty-free bag
The US customs officer who let me capture this sweet momentHi there,
I just got back to France and realized I don’t have a stamp in my French passport. Is it normal that at Suvarnabhumi Airport customs didn’t stamp my passport?
I’m really worried because I have to go back in a month and I don’t know what to expect when I arrive at Thai customs. I’m afraid of the consequences, like a fine or worse—being blacklisted from entering Thailand.
Has anyone else had this happen? And if it’s not normal, what can I do to avoid any problems?
From one lagoon to another or from one island to another… From Blue Bay to Le Morne Brabant or from Île aux Aigrettes to Île aux Bénitiers.
In this travel journal, I invite you on a journey through the south of Mauritius—a region undoubtedly less known than the busy shores of the beach resorts, yet it’s an enchanting, authentic, and charming Mauritius that unfolds along this route.
Blue Bay, now there’s a place name that immediately sets the tone… obviously, blue is the dominant shade of this lagoon. Here, you’d almost want to add an “s” to the word *blue*, so many are the shades of blue in this bay. From the matte turquoise of the early morning, where the mangroves on the shore are reflected in the lagoon’s depths, to the translucent light blue of midday—most stunning when the sun is at its zenith. Then there’s the deep navy blue of late afternoon, as the last rays of sunlight add golden touches to the ripples.
What a joy to admire this landscape with all its tones—they shift with the angle of the sun, the presence of clouds, or even the underwater terrain (light sand or coral). How could anyone ever tire of such paradise-like sights! Let’s set the scene a little more. This lagoon is one of the largest on Mauritius, and luckily, its shores remain preserved. There are no unsightly buildings along its edges—just a few pavilions from a luxury hotel, partially hidden by *filaos* (a type of tropical pine) and coconut palms. Across the way lies the quiet village and beach of Blue Bay.
For the rest, nature reigns supreme here, with lush greenery (palm trees, *filaos*, and mangroves) alternating with light sandy beaches dotted with black rocks. The lagoon’s entrance is protected by a coral barrier, where waves from the Indian Ocean crash, forming a frothy edge that outlines the horizon. And as if this setting weren’t already idyllic enough, there’s also an island floating on these impossibly beautiful blue waters: Île des Deux Cocos. This private tropical haven has just one structure—a house with striking Moorish-style architecture. Renting it would cost a fortune, I can only imagine… so let’s just admire this dreamy landscape from afar.
Even though the lagoon’s waters are astonishingly clear, to see the tropical fish and coral, you’ll need to explore either by glass-bottom boat (the view is a bit blurry and distorted) or—much better—by snorkeling. There, you swim in the middle of a real aquarium… without any walls. The wonder is guaranteed! I’ll admit that during my (too short) snorkeling session, I didn’t see all the species in this lagoon—far from it! Apparently, there are over 72 different kinds.
But I did spot and admire some elegant angelfish, colorful parrotfish with their shimmering scales, and especially schools of striped fish—the famous sergeant majors. These two Mauritians, seen from behind with their legs in the water, have another way of interacting with the bay’s fish—they’re teasing them with fishing lines and hooks.
Exploring the lagoon can be nicely rounded out with a kayak trip. With just a few paddle strokes, I’m almost in the middle of the bay. There, during a pause, my gaze wavers between admiring the stunning surroundings and peering at the underwater world through the crystal-clear waters. Look! A few fish dart near my kayak… before quickly hiding in the coral crevices. A little farther on, near the lagoon’s shores, I now glide along the mangroves and their tangled roots—another fascinating aspect of the area to discover.
A lagoon so rich in sights and aesthetic emotions quickly makes you feel like you’ve arrived at the gates of paradise. As my thoughts drift with each stroke of the paddle, the peaceful silence of the lagoon is suddenly shattered by a growing noise… a passenger plane flies overhead before landing on a runway near the island’s airport, which is close to the lagoon. Okay, you’ve got to admit—that’s really the only detail in this environment that brings you back to reality. Can paradise truly exist on Earth? Still, luckily, takeoffs and landings aren’t *too* frequent!
Twilight comes quickly in subtropical regions—it’s now the blue hour over the blue lagoon. From Île des Deux Cocos, a few notes of rhythmic music drift over, accompanied by colorful lights. The evening will be festive well into the night…
………………………………………………………………
After the lagoon and its sea baths, it’s time for a *bain de foule*—we’re now in town. The main city in the south, with its 16,000 inhabitants, Mahébourg is even Mauritius’ second-largest urban area. Its vibe is nothing like the hustle (and traffic jams) of the capital, Port Louis. Here, no tall buildings—just residences, houses, shacks, and shops that give off the charming, laid-back atmosphere of a provincial tropical town.
You’ll encounter the crowd a little later at the central market. It’s Monday morning, a busy day, but the morning is just beginning, and some aisles of the covered market are still sparse.
Under these colorful tarps, stalls overflow with mounds of vegetables and fruits. Here, tomatoes in bulk; there, pyramids of eggplants… Farther on, fruit displays: watermelons, pineapples, bananas, and lychees—the first of the season, a vendor tells me. It all looks so appetizing! We continue our visit, weaving between crate carriers, vendors, and busy housewives feeling, weighing, and comparing the produce… before finally buying their groceries. Baskets fill up as conversations flow in a relaxed but somewhat noisy atmosphere.
Near the exit, stalls line up with Indo-Mauritian specialties. Here, the air smells of deep-fried goodness. The displays are piled high with samoussas and dholl puris—those famous flatbreads made with lentil flour and stuffed with spiced vegetables. There are also some eggplant fritters… The sight of all these local treats makes me want to try them, even if it all looks a bit (okay, *very*) greasy. Let’s grab some for our midday picnic! On the other hand, I’ll pass on the chili cakes, even though the vendor kindly offers them. I’m not used to that local *piquant* heat!
Leaving the market, we take a random street—this one’s particularly crowded and busy. It leads to another covered market, this one for clothes. Here, stalls overflow with colorful fabrics and saris, as well as T-shirts, jeans, and caps…
Near the Chaux River, just before the bridge leading to a working-class neighborhood on the outskirts, stands the old lavoir. It seems like a relic from the past—its basins are completely dry, and the place is deserted. No one is scrubbing, beating, or wringing out laundry. Either Monday isn’t laundry day here, or washing machines have replaced the *lavandières* (laundry women)?
A large community of Indian origin lives in Mahébourg, and of course, they have their places of worship, like this Hindu temple at the city’s entrance, decorated with colors and deities.
--
To be continued in the next post: the Hindu festival of Diwali, Île aux Aigrettes, the rocky cliffs of the South…
Blue Bay, now there’s a place name that immediately sets the tone… obviously, blue is the dominant shade of this lagoon. Here, you’d almost want to add an “s” to the word *blue*, so many are the shades of blue in this bay. From the matte turquoise of the early morning, where the mangroves on the shore are reflected in the lagoon’s depths, to the translucent light blue of midday—most stunning when the sun is at its zenith. Then there’s the deep navy blue of late afternoon, as the last rays of sunlight add golden touches to the ripples.
What a joy to admire this landscape with all its tones—they shift with the angle of the sun, the presence of clouds, or even the underwater terrain (light sand or coral). How could anyone ever tire of such paradise-like sights! Let’s set the scene a little more. This lagoon is one of the largest on Mauritius, and luckily, its shores remain preserved. There are no unsightly buildings along its edges—just a few pavilions from a luxury hotel, partially hidden by *filaos* (a type of tropical pine) and coconut palms. Across the way lies the quiet village and beach of Blue Bay.
For the rest, nature reigns supreme here, with lush greenery (palm trees, *filaos*, and mangroves) alternating with light sandy beaches dotted with black rocks. The lagoon’s entrance is protected by a coral barrier, where waves from the Indian Ocean crash, forming a frothy edge that outlines the horizon. And as if this setting weren’t already idyllic enough, there’s also an island floating on these impossibly beautiful blue waters: Île des Deux Cocos. This private tropical haven has just one structure—a house with striking Moorish-style architecture. Renting it would cost a fortune, I can only imagine… so let’s just admire this dreamy landscape from afar.
Even though the lagoon’s waters are astonishingly clear, to see the tropical fish and coral, you’ll need to explore either by glass-bottom boat (the view is a bit blurry and distorted) or—much better—by snorkeling. There, you swim in the middle of a real aquarium… without any walls. The wonder is guaranteed! I’ll admit that during my (too short) snorkeling session, I didn’t see all the species in this lagoon—far from it! Apparently, there are over 72 different kinds.
But I did spot and admire some elegant angelfish, colorful parrotfish with their shimmering scales, and especially schools of striped fish—the famous sergeant majors. These two Mauritians, seen from behind with their legs in the water, have another way of interacting with the bay’s fish—they’re teasing them with fishing lines and hooks.
Exploring the lagoon can be nicely rounded out with a kayak trip. With just a few paddle strokes, I’m almost in the middle of the bay. There, during a pause, my gaze wavers between admiring the stunning surroundings and peering at the underwater world through the crystal-clear waters. Look! A few fish dart near my kayak… before quickly hiding in the coral crevices. A little farther on, near the lagoon’s shores, I now glide along the mangroves and their tangled roots—another fascinating aspect of the area to discover.
A lagoon so rich in sights and aesthetic emotions quickly makes you feel like you’ve arrived at the gates of paradise. As my thoughts drift with each stroke of the paddle, the peaceful silence of the lagoon is suddenly shattered by a growing noise… a passenger plane flies overhead before landing on a runway near the island’s airport, which is close to the lagoon. Okay, you’ve got to admit—that’s really the only detail in this environment that brings you back to reality. Can paradise truly exist on Earth? Still, luckily, takeoffs and landings aren’t *too* frequent!
Twilight comes quickly in subtropical regions—it’s now the blue hour over the blue lagoon. From Île des Deux Cocos, a few notes of rhythmic music drift over, accompanied by colorful lights. The evening will be festive well into the night…
………………………………………………………………
After the lagoon and its sea baths, it’s time for a *bain de foule*—we’re now in town. The main city in the south, with its 16,000 inhabitants, Mahébourg is even Mauritius’ second-largest urban area. Its vibe is nothing like the hustle (and traffic jams) of the capital, Port Louis. Here, no tall buildings—just residences, houses, shacks, and shops that give off the charming, laid-back atmosphere of a provincial tropical town.
You’ll encounter the crowd a little later at the central market. It’s Monday morning, a busy day, but the morning is just beginning, and some aisles of the covered market are still sparse.
Under these colorful tarps, stalls overflow with mounds of vegetables and fruits. Here, tomatoes in bulk; there, pyramids of eggplants… Farther on, fruit displays: watermelons, pineapples, bananas, and lychees—the first of the season, a vendor tells me. It all looks so appetizing! We continue our visit, weaving between crate carriers, vendors, and busy housewives feeling, weighing, and comparing the produce… before finally buying their groceries. Baskets fill up as conversations flow in a relaxed but somewhat noisy atmosphere.
Near the exit, stalls line up with Indo-Mauritian specialties. Here, the air smells of deep-fried goodness. The displays are piled high with samoussas and dholl puris—those famous flatbreads made with lentil flour and stuffed with spiced vegetables. There are also some eggplant fritters… The sight of all these local treats makes me want to try them, even if it all looks a bit (okay, *very*) greasy. Let’s grab some for our midday picnic! On the other hand, I’ll pass on the chili cakes, even though the vendor kindly offers them. I’m not used to that local *piquant* heat!
Leaving the market, we take a random street—this one’s particularly crowded and busy. It leads to another covered market, this one for clothes. Here, stalls overflow with colorful fabrics and saris, as well as T-shirts, jeans, and caps…
Near the Chaux River, just before the bridge leading to a working-class neighborhood on the outskirts, stands the old lavoir. It seems like a relic from the past—its basins are completely dry, and the place is deserted. No one is scrubbing, beating, or wringing out laundry. Either Monday isn’t laundry day here, or washing machines have replaced the *lavandières* (laundry women)?
A large community of Indian origin lives in Mahébourg, and of course, they have their places of worship, like this Hindu temple at the city’s entrance, decorated with colors and deities.
--
To be continued in the next post: the Hindu festival of Diwali, Île aux Aigrettes, the rocky cliffs of the South…
Here’s our third travel journal with photos, following Vietnam in 2012 and Southern Thailand + Angkor in 2013.
Once again, we’d like to thank everyone who brightens up this site with their experiences and tips. Every year, some parts of our itinerary are made easier or richer thanks to your contributions.
We hope our own story will do the same for other travelers.
**10 JULY 2014**
We booked our flight tickets back in September to get a better deal than last year. We were happy with the 1291 € price for two people from Paris—until mid-January, when several airlines started offering promotions we hadn’t expected for our travel dates. Next year, we’ll take the gamble and wait longer, hoping to fly with Qatar Airways, for example. Fate had us flying with Indian Airlines. The Paris-to-Delhi leg was on a brand-new Boeing Dreamliner—obviously fresh off the assembly line. After a quick four-hour layover to stretch our legs, we boarded an Airbus A321 that looked prehistoric for the Delhi-to-Bangkok flight. Honestly, if the outside of the plane had matched the inside, we’d never have made it. Broken screens, shattered armrests—you name it. As for the meal trays, we would’ve devoured them only after a week stranded on a desert island. The cabin crew didn’t win us over either. And we really didn’t appreciate the behavior, attitudes, or stares from most of the people we encountered during our layovers in Delhi. This year’s experience has definitely put us off flying with this airline again—or even setting foot in India ever again. That’s just our personal take, but it’s clear.
Stepping onto Thai soil was an immense relief. After exchanging just a few euros, we took a taxi from the designated spot and had a completely different experience from last year: the driver was normal and efficient. So efficient, in fact, that we arrived at our destination much earlier than expected. A well-deserved tip, and it seemed to make his day.
We dropped our bags at reception and rushed to Harmonique restaurant, just 300 meters away, just in time for the last dinner service. We’d talked about this place at length last year. We’d been looking forward to it for a year, but we only managed to nibble on some spring rolls because what we really wanted was a good night’s sleep. While quite a few customers were still around, four staff members walked through the dining area with two large trash bins from the day’s service. They were clearly pleased with themselves and having a good laugh. It made us chuckle too—seeing something like that done so naturally, when back home, some people would’ve been outraged to witness it in a similar establishment!
A quick word about the Swan Hotel: we’re grateful to those who recommended it on this site and on their blogs. It’s quietly located in the Silom district, just steps from the river. We have fond memories of the giant, ultra-comfortable bed and the well-maintained pool. It was very peaceful, though we were there during a quieter season. At 30 € with breakfast when we booked (and around 20 € without breakfast now), we can’t imagine finding a better-suited hotel in Bangkok.
**11 JULY**
We couldn’t find an open bank and had to withdraw cash from an ATM. Now we know: July 11 is a public holiday in Thailand. It suddenly occurred to us that next year, we’ll keep some baht from our return trip to save time at the airport and avoid little hiccups like this.
We decided not to head straight to Laos and instead spent the day visiting Muang Boran, also known as Ancient City, about 30 km southeast of Bangkok.
There are plenty of ways to get there. We ruled out taxis—too expensive. Besides, we enjoy using local transport; it’s more fun. We took a taxi to Democracy Monument, then found the bus stop about 100 meters from the roundabout, on one of the avenues leading to it. Someone always points you in the right direction. We hopped on bus 511 for a long ride, with two major slowdowns at red lights. The same happened on the way back, as our route crossed busier roads. We told the driver our destination, and he let us know when to get off. No problem—someone already flagged us down 20 meters later to put us in a *songthaew* (a shared taxi-van) that took us straight to the site. The bus and *songthaew* fares were minimal. Already, the people around us were smiling, and we were smiling back.
The entrance fee has gone up: 700 baht. That includes bike rental, a tour minibus, and a boat ride on the river. We still hadn’t fully recovered from the flight, and with the heavy, humid heat, we opted for the electric cart instead—no regrets. Still, 150 baht per hour.
We had an amazing day, beyond our expectations. The park features full-scale or scaled-down replicas of Thailand’s main landmarks, along with countless statues and landscaped gardens. There are also reconstructions of a typical Thai village, a northern Thai village, a farm with animals, and a floating village.
Almost everything we saw was well-made and aesthetically pleasing. The whole place is absolutely worth the trip. We spent six solid hours there without dawdling.
Here’s a very incomplete sample of what we admired:
Visitors will find restrooms, restaurants, and a few shops scattered throughout the site. On the way back, just cross the road using the pedestrian bridge about 250 meters to the left of the exit. Flag down a *songthaew* as it passes.
The whole day flew by between the visit and the commute. We still had time to return to Harmonique to try their famous crab curry. Once you’ve finished it, you think—life isn’t so bad after all.
**10 JULY 2014**
We booked our flight tickets back in September to get a better deal than last year. We were happy with the 1291 € price for two people from Paris—until mid-January, when several airlines started offering promotions we hadn’t expected for our travel dates. Next year, we’ll take the gamble and wait longer, hoping to fly with Qatar Airways, for example. Fate had us flying with Indian Airlines. The Paris-to-Delhi leg was on a brand-new Boeing Dreamliner—obviously fresh off the assembly line. After a quick four-hour layover to stretch our legs, we boarded an Airbus A321 that looked prehistoric for the Delhi-to-Bangkok flight. Honestly, if the outside of the plane had matched the inside, we’d never have made it. Broken screens, shattered armrests—you name it. As for the meal trays, we would’ve devoured them only after a week stranded on a desert island. The cabin crew didn’t win us over either. And we really didn’t appreciate the behavior, attitudes, or stares from most of the people we encountered during our layovers in Delhi. This year’s experience has definitely put us off flying with this airline again—or even setting foot in India ever again. That’s just our personal take, but it’s clear.
Stepping onto Thai soil was an immense relief. After exchanging just a few euros, we took a taxi from the designated spot and had a completely different experience from last year: the driver was normal and efficient. So efficient, in fact, that we arrived at our destination much earlier than expected. A well-deserved tip, and it seemed to make his day.
We dropped our bags at reception and rushed to Harmonique restaurant, just 300 meters away, just in time for the last dinner service. We’d talked about this place at length last year. We’d been looking forward to it for a year, but we only managed to nibble on some spring rolls because what we really wanted was a good night’s sleep. While quite a few customers were still around, four staff members walked through the dining area with two large trash bins from the day’s service. They were clearly pleased with themselves and having a good laugh. It made us chuckle too—seeing something like that done so naturally, when back home, some people would’ve been outraged to witness it in a similar establishment!
A quick word about the Swan Hotel: we’re grateful to those who recommended it on this site and on their blogs. It’s quietly located in the Silom district, just steps from the river. We have fond memories of the giant, ultra-comfortable bed and the well-maintained pool. It was very peaceful, though we were there during a quieter season. At 30 € with breakfast when we booked (and around 20 € without breakfast now), we can’t imagine finding a better-suited hotel in Bangkok.
**11 JULY**
We couldn’t find an open bank and had to withdraw cash from an ATM. Now we know: July 11 is a public holiday in Thailand. It suddenly occurred to us that next year, we’ll keep some baht from our return trip to save time at the airport and avoid little hiccups like this.
We decided not to head straight to Laos and instead spent the day visiting Muang Boran, also known as Ancient City, about 30 km southeast of Bangkok.
There are plenty of ways to get there. We ruled out taxis—too expensive. Besides, we enjoy using local transport; it’s more fun. We took a taxi to Democracy Monument, then found the bus stop about 100 meters from the roundabout, on one of the avenues leading to it. Someone always points you in the right direction. We hopped on bus 511 for a long ride, with two major slowdowns at red lights. The same happened on the way back, as our route crossed busier roads. We told the driver our destination, and he let us know when to get off. No problem—someone already flagged us down 20 meters later to put us in a *songthaew* (a shared taxi-van) that took us straight to the site. The bus and *songthaew* fares were minimal. Already, the people around us were smiling, and we were smiling back.
The entrance fee has gone up: 700 baht. That includes bike rental, a tour minibus, and a boat ride on the river. We still hadn’t fully recovered from the flight, and with the heavy, humid heat, we opted for the electric cart instead—no regrets. Still, 150 baht per hour.
We had an amazing day, beyond our expectations. The park features full-scale or scaled-down replicas of Thailand’s main landmarks, along with countless statues and landscaped gardens. There are also reconstructions of a typical Thai village, a northern Thai village, a farm with animals, and a floating village.
Almost everything we saw was well-made and aesthetically pleasing. The whole place is absolutely worth the trip. We spent six solid hours there without dawdling.
Here’s a very incomplete sample of what we admired:
Visitors will find restrooms, restaurants, and a few shops scattered throughout the site. On the way back, just cross the road using the pedestrian bridge about 250 meters to the left of the exit. Flag down a *songthaew* as it passes.
The whole day flew by between the visit and the commute. We still had time to return to Harmonique to try their famous crab curry. Once you’ve finished it, you think—life isn’t so bad after all.
Hi everyone, we're back from a DIY USA road trip we organized from July 31, 2026, to August 26, 2026.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say. Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
See you soon.
The destination: The Southwest USA, including Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico. Roughly 7,000 kilometers covered.
The car: A Chevrolet Equinox for two, rented through BSP Auto and Avis. Inside, we had 2 suitcases, a travel bag, two carry-on bags, a Walmart cooler, photo gear, and water bottles (a 40-pack).
The route: Dallas DFW, Fort Worth, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Alpine, El Paso, Tucson, Sedona, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and back to Dallas to finish with a departure from DFW.
The travelers: Two seniors well advanced in years (73 and 75) but still active (nothing too physically demanding—to stay alive and fund our trips), fully independent physically, though a bit less so mentally. Big USA fans, a country where anything is possible. More walkers than hikers, preferring 3-star hotels over roadside motels, Italian restaurants over US food, frequent stops for photos, museums over nothing, naps over forced marches. Not too whiny, just enough to stay French in the land of the "great Satan," as they say. Not great with languages—street English (but handy), and my Spanish is non-existent except for: "Hola! Una cerveza por favor!" That’s about it. My wife understands everything but refuses to speak.
The cost of the road trip: Around 12,000 €, including AF flights, the car, gas, gifts, visits, and everything else. Well managed, since we’d budgeted 13,500 € initially.
The positive side: A delight, with those endless open roads. Museums to discover. The realization of the Hispanic presence and its important history in this part of America. Lovely locals. Tourists who were more or less friendly. A terrible Texan accent that was hard to understand. Gas stations that were like real stores, with prepared food, alcohol sold in Arizona and New Mexico, and employees who were always up for a laugh!
The negative side: The heat throughout the trip... 43°C in Dallas at the end. Impossible to walk the streets. Lots of homeless people in downtown Dallas. Hotel breakfasts that were always the same. You get used to it.
So, it was positive overall, but the concept is starting to wear us out. We might rethink the DIY road trip model for next time. If the man upstairs grants us more time.
Next up, we’ll wait for the first batch of sorted photos to go through the wringer.
See you soon.
Hi there,
I’ll be traveling to Tuscany with my family (my wife and two kids, aged 6 and 8) from April 26 to May 5. Here’s a rough draft of our potential itinerary—I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions so I can tweak and improve it. We haven’t finalized our accommodations yet, but they’ll likely be near Florence (2 nights), Lucca (2 nights), Monteriggioni (2 nights), Pienza, Montalcino, and Greve in Chianti.
- April 26: o Arrival in Florence around 12:00 PM - April 27: o Florence - April 28: o Florence – Pistoia – Lucca - April 29: o Lucca – Pisa – Lucca - April 30: o Lucca – Volterra – San Gimignano – Monteriggioni - May 1: o Monteriggioni – Siena – Monteriggioni - May 2: o Monteriggioni – Abbey of Santa Maria di Monte Oliveto – Baccoleno – Castelmuzio – Chapel of Madonna di Vitaleta (San Quirico d’Orcia) – Pienza - May 3: o Pienza – Montepulciano – Montichiello – Abbey of Sant’Antimo – Bagno Vignoni Thermal Baths – Montalcino - May 4: o Montalcino – Castellina in Chianti – Radda in Chianti – Badia a Coltibuono – Volpaia – Montefioralle – Greve in Chianti - May 5: o Greve in Chianti – Florence airport
Thanks for any insights! 😉
I’ll be traveling to Tuscany with my family (my wife and two kids, aged 6 and 8) from April 26 to May 5. Here’s a rough draft of our potential itinerary—I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions so I can tweak and improve it. We haven’t finalized our accommodations yet, but they’ll likely be near Florence (2 nights), Lucca (2 nights), Monteriggioni (2 nights), Pienza, Montalcino, and Greve in Chianti.
- April 26: o Arrival in Florence around 12:00 PM - April 27: o Florence - April 28: o Florence – Pistoia – Lucca - April 29: o Lucca – Pisa – Lucca - April 30: o Lucca – Volterra – San Gimignano – Monteriggioni - May 1: o Monteriggioni – Siena – Monteriggioni - May 2: o Monteriggioni – Abbey of Santa Maria di Monte Oliveto – Baccoleno – Castelmuzio – Chapel of Madonna di Vitaleta (San Quirico d’Orcia) – Pienza - May 3: o Pienza – Montepulciano – Montichiello – Abbey of Sant’Antimo – Bagno Vignoni Thermal Baths – Montalcino - May 4: o Montalcino – Castellina in Chianti – Radda in Chianti – Badia a Coltibuono – Volpaia – Montefioralle – Greve in Chianti - May 5: o Greve in Chianti – Florence airport
Thanks for any insights! 😉
Hey everyone,
Yesterday, I checked the Thailand forum to see if there were any questions to answer, but not much was happening—it was pretty quiet. Then I scrolled through the Southeast Asia section and realized that, even though Burma (Myanmar) was included, there weren’t many posts about it... I’ve only been there once, back in 1987, so it’s hard to create a photo thread about multiple trips like I sometimes do for Thailand. Still, that one trip was packed with unusual adventures, so I thought I’d share a few stories from it.
Since I didn’t take any notes at the time, this is all from memory—it’s not an exhaustive travel journal and isn’t meant to help plan a future trip to Myanmar.
Don’t expect photos; there won’t be any. I have some, but they’re slides that would need scanning and editing one by one to fix the wear and tear of time—way too much work.
The Context.
Back then (reminder: 1987), I was volunteering in Paris at the counter of a travel agency on Rue des Écoles. The agency was part of a well-known organization based in Mulhouse that mostly offered scheduled flights to Asia, charter flights to the Mediterranean, and flights to Mali with their own plane. They also had a few rare "roots"-style trips to certain destinations—trips where you didn’t bring your tennis racket but were ready to soak in everything, even if it meant tough conditions.
I’d already been to Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines in Asia. The director knew this, so he asked me to accompany a group to Burma. At the time, tours to Burma were already being sold by competitors, but they all had to go through the state-run agency, Touristburma (buses and hotels for tourists, and they only showed you what they wanted you to see—kind of like traveling in North Korea today). The service was only payable in dollars at the official exchange rate (which was six times worse than the black market rate, mind you...), and since it went through the state agency, all the money ended up with the junta.
My job was to do everything *without* going through Touristburma, which was completely illegal there. Nothing would be booked in advance. Back then, the Burmese visa was only valid for 8 days/7 nights, and since clients were paying for the experience, the itinerary was planned ahead. I’d have to find transport and a guide on the black market as soon as I arrived.
The clients weren’t misled—they knew from the start that the trip would be off the books, that officially we’d be a small group of friends (not an agency), unlike the truth (Touristburma wasn’t mandatory for individual travelers), and that it would be challenging. They also knew their trip would cost 3-4 times less while giving them a much better experience of Burma. As for pretending to be a group of friends, there were only six of us, so it worked out.
To cover all expenses (accommodation, transport, excursions), the agency gave me a sufficient budget. They also gave me the *same* budget a second time, which was strictly for bribing officials who might cause trouble, for backshish (tips), and, if needed, to "help" me get out of prison.
Before I left, I was thoroughly briefed by another guy who’d led the previous trip (he’d dealt with all the initial challenges). He explained everything I needed to know, what to watch out for, and advised me on what to bring as "gifts" (samples of well-known perfumes, specific cigarette and whisky brands, etc.). For the perfume samples, I rallied my family, friends, and even stores. For the rest, I’d pick things up at the duty-free shops in Don Muang (Bangkok’s only airport at the time)—I had the budget for it.
I couldn’t wait to leave...
Yesterday, I checked the Thailand forum to see if there were any questions to answer, but not much was happening—it was pretty quiet. Then I scrolled through the Southeast Asia section and realized that, even though Burma (Myanmar) was included, there weren’t many posts about it... I’ve only been there once, back in 1987, so it’s hard to create a photo thread about multiple trips like I sometimes do for Thailand. Still, that one trip was packed with unusual adventures, so I thought I’d share a few stories from it.
Since I didn’t take any notes at the time, this is all from memory—it’s not an exhaustive travel journal and isn’t meant to help plan a future trip to Myanmar.
Don’t expect photos; there won’t be any. I have some, but they’re slides that would need scanning and editing one by one to fix the wear and tear of time—way too much work.
The Context.
Back then (reminder: 1987), I was volunteering in Paris at the counter of a travel agency on Rue des Écoles. The agency was part of a well-known organization based in Mulhouse that mostly offered scheduled flights to Asia, charter flights to the Mediterranean, and flights to Mali with their own plane. They also had a few rare "roots"-style trips to certain destinations—trips where you didn’t bring your tennis racket but were ready to soak in everything, even if it meant tough conditions.
I’d already been to Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines in Asia. The director knew this, so he asked me to accompany a group to Burma. At the time, tours to Burma were already being sold by competitors, but they all had to go through the state-run agency, Touristburma (buses and hotels for tourists, and they only showed you what they wanted you to see—kind of like traveling in North Korea today). The service was only payable in dollars at the official exchange rate (which was six times worse than the black market rate, mind you...), and since it went through the state agency, all the money ended up with the junta.
My job was to do everything *without* going through Touristburma, which was completely illegal there. Nothing would be booked in advance. Back then, the Burmese visa was only valid for 8 days/7 nights, and since clients were paying for the experience, the itinerary was planned ahead. I’d have to find transport and a guide on the black market as soon as I arrived.
The clients weren’t misled—they knew from the start that the trip would be off the books, that officially we’d be a small group of friends (not an agency), unlike the truth (Touristburma wasn’t mandatory for individual travelers), and that it would be challenging. They also knew their trip would cost 3-4 times less while giving them a much better experience of Burma. As for pretending to be a group of friends, there were only six of us, so it worked out.
To cover all expenses (accommodation, transport, excursions), the agency gave me a sufficient budget. They also gave me the *same* budget a second time, which was strictly for bribing officials who might cause trouble, for backshish (tips), and, if needed, to "help" me get out of prison.
Before I left, I was thoroughly briefed by another guy who’d led the previous trip (he’d dealt with all the initial challenges). He explained everything I needed to know, what to watch out for, and advised me on what to bring as "gifts" (samples of well-known perfumes, specific cigarette and whisky brands, etc.). For the perfume samples, I rallied my family, friends, and even stores. For the rest, I’d pick things up at the duty-free shops in Don Muang (Bangkok’s only airport at the time)—I had the budget for it.
I couldn’t wait to leave...
I really loved Thailand, but it was too touristy for my taste. So I'm hesitating about going back and wondering if Cambodia or Vietnam would be less crowded with tourists...
