Results for "Corée+du+Sud+souvenir+artisanat"

Bonjour, nous sommes une famille (enfants 7 & 17 ans), nous voulons partir deux mois cet été nous poser dans un endroit cool, hors pression touristique, pour nager tous les jours avec les poissons multicolores...

Avez vous des recommandations particulières notamment par rapport au palu sur les zones cotières...nous avons repéré Ifaty et ses alentours...

Nous sommes preneurs de toute info (hébergement notamment),

Merci,

jon

quel rdt votre livre culte (en rapport avec voyage) ?

pour ma part voici un livre qui a sans doute confirmé mon attrait les voyages : l'usage du monde de Nicolas Bouvier.

si un livre vous a plu (mais vraiment très très beaucoup plu) n'hésitez pas à communiquer votre liste ici. merci

Nous désirons partir au Maroc pour un mois, en camping-car. Dans tous les guides on nous parle d'une assurance spéciale en cas de vol du véhicule, car si on repasse la frontière sans lui, on doit payer une taxe égale à la valeur de la moitié du véhicule neuf. Nous aimerions savoir si certains d'entre vous, ont eu leur véhicule volé au Maroc. Notre assureur nous affirme que ce genre de vol n'existe pas dans ce pays.

Merci de vos réponses.

Anthropologie expérimentale

chapître I: Rencontre dans les bas fonds Niçois

J’ai découvert un monde merveilleux peuplé d’humains appartement à une race bien particulière : celle des discovertravelocipèdes

Ces inventeurs de trésors sont constitués d’électrons plus ou moins libres, animés par et orientés vers la découverte, l’inconnu, l’expédition ou plus simplement le monde.

Ils ressemblent au commun des mortels à la différence près que la simple énonciation de mot tels que avion ou tour du monde entraîne une convulsion maladive.

Ils se mettent à baver « réflexe de Pavlov », à se gratter le dos « réflexe du membre fantôme » et il ressentent des fourmillements aux pieds et tout le long de l ‘échine… « réflexe du j’prendsmonsac-é-jmecasses… »

Cette maladie s’appelle la voyagie. Cette maladie agit à des degrés divers, aux deux extrêmes, nous avons :

* La souche la plus sévère, qui entraîne ces psychopathes vers des aventures non programmées, non sécurisées ; caractérisées par un départ sans solde ni le sou, sans carte ni point de chute, sans médicament ni vaccination.

* L’autre forme est nettement plus programmée, étude des plans de route et des carnets de route d’amis, visionnage de photos et films informatifs, épargne afin de vivre la grande vie tout au long de leur périple.

Généralement cette maladie est associée à la prise de narcotique divers tel le limodium…

Les symptômes de manque se manifestent par une sur-activité entraînant chez le sujet une recherche d’exposition aux couleurs chaleureuses, aux senteurs d’épices aux rencontres riches et variées.

J’ai pu approcher quelques uns de ces spécimens, que d’aventure, ils m’ont fait part de leur carnet d’émotions. En l’espace d’une journée le samedi 04 décembre à Nice, ils m’ont offert avant Noël une petite tranche de vie et un cocktail d’expériences diverses, d’ailleurs, j’en veux Angkor….

Ils m’ont tissé un patchwork d’uses et coutumes.

Ils Vao-Vao au fil des saisons, alan de déserts en pays, de pays en bières, de squelettes en petitom. Des Mely mélo de souvenirs. Sandrine in de ces voyageurs seshat plus d’une fois le travail pour partir au bout du monde.

Allons en Mongolie s’echris 51ou06. D’autres phil 67 coups de crayons sur un carnet de voyage afin d’écrire et de dessiner des paysages ou des visages souvenirs.

Tels des Tsaatans farouches et solitaires, des fabricia et Chaya nes(s)ietent pas à écouter les Babars racontant les histoires de leurs plus grandes trouvailles : le lotusBleu de Namibieet les étoiledemer de Corée.

Attention toutefois, cette maladie est contagieuse, d’ailleurs que se passe – t-il !!! ….Ma peau se décolle, je bave et je me gratte farouchement le dos et les Nike …. Il faut que je me soigne….un avion, un avion…que le maladie vous préserve…..Bonne maladie à tous….

Bonjour,

Je prépare un voyage en vélo en croatie avec mon ami, nous ommes aux débuts de nos recherches.

Auriez-vous des bons plans, des lieux incontournables, insolites, typiques...à nous indiquer?

Avez-vous déjà tenté l'aventure en vélo? Le relief est-il difficile ? Comment vous êtes vous organisé pour dormir et les bagages?

Merci

Bonjour à tous!!😉

Je demarre une nouvelle discussion:je voudrais savoir quelle a été la chose, la personne, qui vous a vraiment marqué pendant vos voyages.

Ce souvenir peut être positif ou négatif!!

Partagez vos meilleurs ou pires moments passés à l'étranger!!

On attend avec impatience vos récits!!!

Bisous et à bientôt!!

Preamble

June 2024. While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way. The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km. It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.



In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?

And the answers? Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan. Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable. But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give. Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom. A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain. But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.

Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing. And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality. When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual. No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.

This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.

Now, all that was left was to walk. April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.

April 11 – Day 1

It was winter, a winter with beautiful weather, A season that only exists in the southwest of America, I remember very well what I told you that morning A month ago... A century ago, an eternity ago... We’ll go... wherever you want, whenever you want...

Well, yeah, back from our adventure in our enchanting American West just a month ago, we’re already taking a bite out of one of its lesser-known competitors. "Flo, if you had to pick just one reason to justify your love for the U.S., what would it be?" The greasy, dripping burgers? No, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying it’d be the wide-open spaces... And that’s exactly what our new quest is taking us to—a land on the other side of the globe where the horizon also seems endless, where silence tastes like salty wind and sand, where freedom is measured in kilometers of desert tracks, where the GPS is mostly there to confirm you’re lost in the middle of nowhere... Add to that magic formula the fact that you’ll see more zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, and elephants than people per square kilometer, and you can imagine us setting foot in Southern Africa for the first time, more precisely at the small airport in Windhoek, capital of... of...? Brush up on your geography, damn it! We’re landing in Namibia!!!



To be honest, Namibian landscapes have been flirting with me for ages. So how did I resist this island of temptation for so long? First, the budget. Let’s just say that for the same amount of effort (and kidneys), the bank lets you choose two other adventures almost anywhere else on the planet. Then there were my girls. Yeah, back then, they were too little to dose up on Malarone, the only malaria remedy at the time... Long story short, ten years later, all the planets have aligned. First, I won the Euromillions! Well, almost... Let’s just say my girls are now old enough... not to take Malarone, but to stop following me on all my adventures! Jackpot! "Flo, how about a little two-person caprice, just the two of us, tackling the Namibian tracks?"



As we landed on the runway, first wow effect: The horizon is immense. It’s flat as can be, incredibly flat... So much flat space! Did I mention it was flat?... Looking into the distance, it feels like your gaze could circle the Earth without hitting a single obstacle—until you end up staring at your own backside. "Oh, what a nice view!" Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen my butt from this angle! Touching moment... Sorry, I’m rambling—must be the exhaustion from the three-flight marathon we just powered through via Ethiopia and South Africa... And yet, no time to philosophize about my anatomy. As usual, we want to rack up our first kilometers to be front and center at dawn tomorrow. After wrapping up the tedious Namibian immigration formalities and meeting the 4x4 that’ll be our companion day and night for the next fifteen days, we’re off! We’re not exactly fresh, but we’re ready to tackle the next five hundred kilometers in night mode, cruise control set due south! Just outside Windhoek, the local wildlife—a jackal—welcomes us with a smile: "Welcome to Namibia!" That’s what it said! Honest... Okay, first endless straight road, first flaming sunset, first corrugated dirt track, first Milky Way with zero light pollution... You get it—it’s definitely the day of firsts... First night camping, too, in the big trunk of our Toyota Fortuner parked by the side of the track... The real adventure, the kind that smells under the arms, can finally begin...

“When the Whites came to Africa, we had the land and they had the Bible. They taught us to pray with our eyes closed: when we opened them, the Whites had the land and we had the Bible.” Jomo Kenyatta (p.7)

The Maggi cube, an unchallenged hegemony, and so much more

“The hopeless continent,” headlined The Economist, a British magazine, in July 2000 about Africa. Eleven years later, the same magazine headlined “Africa rising” instead. Images of Africa in the prosperous North constantly oscillate between apocalyptic scenarios and enthusiastic projections. A key issue with such images lies in the generalization they entail. If you look at the continent, considerable contrasts emerge depending on space and time. It’s no surprise that a region of the world encompassing such diverse ecological zones, maintaining such varied ties with other continents, comprising nearly fifty nation-states in sub-Saharan Africa alone, and characterized by a great diversity of languages, belief systems, and historical paths, doesn’t share a single destiny.

And yet, for many people outside Africa, as well as for many Africans, the continent constitutes a single entity, defined by criteria such as skin color, a colonial past, poverty, and the art of survival. Until now, these perspectives were generally accompanied by the idea that Africa had to—or should have—followed a single path together, sometimes called development, sometimes modernization, sometimes liberation, then a market economy. None of these paths delivered on their promises.

The two writers Alain Mabanckou and Abdourahman Waberi—one from Congo, the other raised in Djibouti, both long settled in France and now professors at renowned North American universities (Los Angeles, Washington)—have had enough of pessimistic scenarios: “We are aware that Africa is in the world and the world is in Africa. The same goes for all other continents, as our destinies are inextricably linked for better or worse. We refuse to see Africa as a reservoir of misfortunes or a continent cursed by atavistic misfortune and characterized by ethnic conflicts. [...] It’s this passionate flame we wanted to capture in a book [...] a kind of stroll through African cultures, without any demands, each letter of the alphabet leading us to a notion, a practice, a concept, a moment in history, literature, painting, politics, economics, cuisine, etc.” (p.10-11). Africa, they write, is on the verge of “imposing a signature, a style, a way of being in the world and in relation to the rest of the world.” (p.11) To put words to the continent’s diversity and dynamism, the two authors created a “rambling ABC,” a kind of portrait—or more precisely, a mythography—that lets you see and feel the pulse of a vast continent whose cultural power is unfolding before our eyes. Once marginalized or even mocked, the voice and importance of the Continent in global affairs are now undeniable” (p.11), containing over a hundred entries, mostly concise, written in a relaxed and casual style. The optimistic, even exuberant tone is set from the brief introduction. The duo of authors wants to “sing a love song to the cultures of our continent, to its inhabitants past and present, to its exceptional resources and its spectacular globalization despite a certain pollution that still clouds our skies due to the unmatched duration of dictatorships in some of our regions.” (p.12) In doing so, they don’t want to be too distracted by today’s Afewerki-Biya-Bongo-Déby & Co. ...

Of course, you’ll find tributes to great precursors like Frantz Fanon (“[...] it was a love story and admiration that wasn’t dimmed by the four decades separating his birth from ours. Let’s add that we were born while the native of Fort-de-France had left the world’s stage four years earlier, in the prime of life” p.141), Mongo Beti (“You must read and reread Mongo Beti, a genius who used his fame to support often just causes in Africa, like defending oppressed groups. His place is already in History. His oppressors, like the dictators Ahmadou Ahidjo and Paul Biya, can’t compete in the same category” p.64), the Malian Amadou Hampâté Bâ

(“Posterity remembers him mainly as an tireless defender of African cultures. His plea for the collection and preservation of traditional African knowledge remains a major event for all men and women of good will. One day in 1960, at the UNESCO podium, the native of Bandiagara sounded the alarm: ‘[...] Since we’ve admitted that the humanity of each people is the heritage of all humanity, if African traditions aren’t collected in time and written down, they’ll one day be missing from the universal archives of humanity.’” p.51),

Kwame Nkrumah, “one of the founders of Pan-Africanism, father of Ghana’s independence” (p.239), as well as the historian Cheikh Anta Diop, the writer, poet, and politician Aimé Césaire, and the economist and thinker Samir Amin, but also very warm tributes to certain contemporary African intellectuals like Souleymane Bachir Diagne and Achille Mbembe

(“A few years ago, in dominant economic circles, a rumor often resurfaced, usually disguised as a cold and scientifically proven analysis: Africa is useless. It’s a burden for the rest of the human community. With its 2% share in world trade, it would disappear from stock market radars without anyone noticing. So? Maybe it’ll be pulled up by other continents. Wanting to surpass itself is a crazy bet for Africans, they concluded. Arrogant or clueless, President Nicolas Sarkozy declared before an audience of students and teachers at Cheikh Anta Diop University in Dakar: ‘The African man hasn’t entered history enough [...] He only knows the eternal repetition of time marked by the endless repetition of the same gestures and words.’ That was in 2007. For decades, armed only with reason, an intellectual often steps up to debunk prejudices, lazy readings, and dishonest frameworks used as false fronts by those who, like Nicolas Sarkozy or former journalist Stephen Smith, out of ignorance, contempt, or condescension, distort African reality. This intellectual is none other than the historian and political scientist Achille Mbembe. This heir of Frantz Fanon, Amílcar Cabral, Jean-Marc Ela, and Fabien Eboussi-Boulaga was born in 1957 in Cameroon, in the Bassa region. Marked early by the upheavals of a fratricidal war, Achille Mbembe became the guardian of the memory of martyrs. After brilliant studies in Paris, he went on to teach at the best American universities, but the call of the Continent was stronger than anything else. In Dakar, he once directed CODESRIA (Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa) before joining the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Even though the author of *Critique of Black Reason* (Éditions La Découverte, 2015) spends a few months at Duke University in North Carolina, his observation post remains South Africa. From Johannesburg, Achille Mbembe scrutinizes Africa and the whole world. A lucid observer with an elegant and generous pen, Achille Mbembe knows how to blend big and small history: ‘I was born one day in July, as the month was drawing to a close. It was 1957, in that part of Africa recently named ‘Cameroon,’ a memory of the wonder that seized Portuguese sailors in the 15th century when, sailing up the river near Douala, they couldn’t help but note the presence of a multitude of crustaceans, and named it *Rio dos Camarões*, meaning ‘River of Shrimp.’ I grew up in the shadow of this nameless land, since, in a way, the name it bears is only the product of someone else’s astonishment: a lexical mistake, if you will.’ From this mistake or wound, he made leaven, a springboard to compose a rich work, recognized worldwide. To denounce barriers and barbarians too. But that’s not enough. Among his peers in circles of thought and action, Achille Mbembe passionately and consistently defends human dignity and the beauty of the world. In doing so, he fulfills the mission Frantz Fanon entrusted to him.” (p.227-229),

as well as entries dedicated to lesser-known artists and intellectuals, like the French journalist and activist Rokhaya Diallo, daughter of Senegalese and Gambian parents, or the Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima, who has long lived in the United States. Other names from politics, sports, music, art, and literature: Kofi Annan, p.36; Barack Obama, p.243; Thomas Sankara, p.277; Ousmane Sow, p.285; Yambo Ouologuem, p.250; Léopold Sédar Senghor, p.282; Muhammad Ali, p.30; Nuruddin Farah, p.146; Salif Keita, p.203; Ahmadou Kourouma, p.206; Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, p.236; Winnie Mandela, p.224; Kylian Mbappé, p.226 ...

The authors, who resolutely commit to a “mythography” (p.11) of Africa, also pay special attention to local social movements, cultural events, and aspects of daily life. *Y’en a marre*, “which also meant ‘we’re fed up with sitting on our hands’” (p.320-321), emerged about a decade ago in Senegal as a citizen movement of peaceful resistance and symbolizes, the authors emphasize, the fact that African youth are increasingly fed up “with the political circus deployed in Africa since independence, as our parents would say, ‘since the White man left’...” (p.321). A full entry is dedicated to the Maggi bouillon cube, which has flooded African markets for about forty years and enjoys immense popularity (“It’s everywhere in Africa, from Dakar to Djibouti, and from Tangier to Cape Town. It’s in every pot, every stew. Little hands put it in every sauce, every local or adapted dish. An unchallenged hegemony! You’ll find it in diasporas too. The culinary strolls in Paris, in the [...] neighborhood” p.90). Critics blame it not only for impoverishing the aromatic diversity of local dishes but also for being harmful to health. And yet, “he poorest Africans, those who eat only once a day, a few spoonfuls of white beans and a ball of *foufou*, for example, are the most fervent users of the magic cube.” (p.92-93)

For *fonio*, “the new trendy cereal. [...] From the millet family, fonio is probably the oldest cereal cultivated in West Africa, and mainly in its sub-Saharan part, for millennia. [...] Easy to grow, water-efficient, fonio grows everywhere except on clay soils. Long neglected because it was considered the poor man’s crop, fonio is now a source of pride for the farmers who cultivate it and cherish it like the apple of their eye” (p.156-157), the authors immediately offer a detailed recipe, letting the reader know that “e can’t resist sharing this fonio with chicken recipe from Mali with you:

Ingredients: 1 chicken 3 large ripe red tomatoes 4 tbsp tomato paste 4 large onions 1 garlic clove 1/2 cup oil 2 Maggi cubes or salt 2 large carrots 1 turnip 1 large cabbage 2 large potatoes 1 celery stalk 1 packet pre-cooked fonio 4 okra (or okra powder) salt, pepper

Preparation: 1. Prepare the sauce: wash and cut the chicken. Peel the onions, garlic, and vegetables. 2. In a pot, fry the chicken pieces. 3. Dice the onions, tomatoes, carrots, and turnip very small and add them to the pot. 4. Add the tomato paste, salt, and pepper. 5. Simmer for 15 min, then add 2 L of water and the cooked chicken pieces. 6. Simmer for 30 min, then add the crushed garlic and celery, plus the cabbage cut into 4 and the potatoes cut in half. 7. Prepare the fonio: cover it with warm water, let it rest for 15 min, and cook it over low heat. 8. In a small pot, boil the okra and crush them. 9. Mix the crushed okra with the cooked fonio, then salt. Serve hot.” (p.158-159)

The comedy *Black Mic Mac*, released in French theaters in 1986 and addressing France’s increasingly restrictive immigration policy at the time, also gets an entry, as do *Tintin in the Congo*, the popular comic, and *Jip’s Café* (“[...] a little Africa in the heart of Paris, with passersby stopping to admire the ‘ambianceurs’ on the dance floor or attend the cultural events offered by the place” (p.194), an African establishment in Paris that Alain Mabanckou already immortalized in one of his novels.

The duo of authors also tackles thorny subjects like jihadism (p.119), the Rwandan genocide (p.272), the CFA franc (p.82), and dictatorship (p.110). While the two strike the right tone here, many entries leave a slightly bitter taste. Two examples: why doesn’t the text on Barack Obama mention the great disappointment of many people in Africa, who expected more from the African policy of the first U.S. president with African roots than just occasional warm words? Why do the comments on Winnie Mandela gloss over the fact that she was a highly controversial icon of the anti-apartheid movement due to her involvement in kidnappings, acts of torture, and murders of alleged apartheid collaborators? Instead, there’s a compassion that brings tears to the eyes: “She was often reduced to a secondary role, the wife of a great man” or “When victory came, she didn’t taste its fruits. Divorced, isolated. She would never be a ‘first lady’ in an evening gown, posing before a bed of chrysanthemums. They’d keep her far from the circles of power” (p.224-225). At this point, I would’ve liked the authors to take a slightly more critical stance...

That said, these “weaknesses” (if you can call them that) shouldn’t overshadow the book as a whole. It remains an informative, sometimes very entertaining, and often even original work in its own way.

Book information (the original French and the German translation):

Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Dictionnaire enjoué des cultures africaines. Fayard, 2019. Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Der Puls Afrikas. Eine Liebeserklärung von A bis Z. Reclam, 2022.

Hery

Ah, Iceland and us—it’s quite the story, or rather, a long wait... The first time we considered going was already 7-8 years ago, after reading travel journals describing breathtaking landscapes, countless active and dormant volcanoes, glaciers, and waterfalls with extraordinary flows. In short, this island, made of fire and ice, right at Europe’s doorstep with its own unique culture, had nothing but advantages, and it was urgent to visit without delay 😇

My *Routard* guidebook is actually from 2016. So why did Iceland make us wait so long before we finally gave in to its charms? Yes, why indeed?

Simply because reading other travel journals revealed the cost of living there—and especially the harsh climate, even in the middle of July 🤪! Some journals described entire weeks of rain and foggy weather, making it tricky to explore the island. The budget wasn’t spared either, because in the most touristy areas, especially in the south and around Myvatn, accommodation prices are downright indecent—even outright robbery. 😕

Plus, in the Highlands, there’s literally no permanent lodging, and the only way to spend several nights there is to camp. And camping in winter conditions wasn’t exactly part of our plans... 😄

So, year after year, this trip kept getting postponed...

until August 2023, when prices for Southern Africa, North or South America, or even Asia were all way too high for summer 2024!

That’s when I turned my attention back to the Land of Fire and Ice and scoured all the comparison sites for the best accommodation deals across the country. Planning for 20 nights, I found 13 nights in "proper" lodging for 5 people at an average cost of under 200 €! A miracle, considering that in the southern glacier region, around Vik or Myvatn, prices range from 300 to 1000 € per night 😮 😮!

Still, that means we’ll have to camp for 7 nights, mostly in the Highlands, near Askja or Landmannalaugar. 😎

For once, I built the daily itinerary entirely around the decently priced lodgings I found 11 months in advance! The shortage of places to stay in some areas forced me to plan a few long transition days and make some tough choices. No big deal, though—there’s so much to do on this island 🙂!

Once the main itinerary was set, everyone agreed to the plan: 2/3 in proper lodging and 1/3 camping, even the most camping-averse among us! *Follow my gaze...*

By the time we bought the flight tickets, I had to tweak the itinerary a bit because one or two places were already booked! Plus, it was impossible to wait for a more refined plan to adjust reservations, since almost all bookings are non-refundable!! The harsh law of supply and demand...

For the car rental, we booked a Hyundai Tucson, approved for the Highlands, from Lava Car Rental—a company I’d read good reviews about in a Facebook group—for a cool 2500 € with full insurance. A real 4x4, like a Defender, would’ve been more than double...! Welcome to Iceland 😕...

Activities and excursions also required some tough choices. We had two must-dos: whale watching in Húsavík (60 € pp on Getyourguide) and a Glacier and Summer Treasure Glacier Walk with BlueIceland (165 € pp with discount codes on Getyourguide).

For the baths, we skipped the Blue Lagoon—too expensive—in favor of the Secret Lagoon and the Myvatn Baths, the Blue Lagoon’s equivalent but half the price.

Two baths for the price of one... and even more, since I spotted several free hot-water swimming spots.

Itinerary: Day 1: Arrival in Reykjavik - Hraunfossar Waterfall - Surtshellir Cave Day 2: Grábrók Crater - Snæfellsnes Peninsula Day 3: Stykkishólmur - Sturlungalaug Hot Springs Day 4: Northwest Coast - Akureyri - Goðafoss Day 5: Myvatn Day 6: Myvatn - Dettifoss - Selfoss - Rauðhólar Day 7: Húsavík Whale Watching - Dettifoss - Selfoss Day 8: Stuðlagil Canyon - Seyðisfjörður Day 9: Puffin colony - Störurð Hike Day 10: Hengifoss - East Fjords, Mjóifjörður Day 11: Viking Village - Jökulsárlón - Fjallsárlón Day 12: Glacier Excursion - Svartifoss Day 13: Fjaðrárgljúfur Canyon - Vík Day 14: Þakgil - Lava Show Vík Day 15: Southern Waterfalls Day Day 16: Landmannalaugar - Skalli Hike Day 17: Landmannalaugar - Bláhnjúkur - Brennisteinsalda Day 18: Secret Lagoon, Kerlingarfjöll, and Gullfoss Day 19: Geysir - Reykjavik Day 20: Bruarfoss - Þingvellir - Kerid Crater - Krýsuvík Geothermal Area Day 21: Reykjanes Peninsula

Friday, July 5, 2024, is our last workday before driving up to Alsace overnight to leave the cockers at Grandpa’s for boarding. Then, at 1:30 AM, we’ll head to Frankfurt, where a direct flight to Iceland awaits.

We arrive at 4 AM. Since we leave at 7 AM, the "night" will only last the equivalent of a 30-minute nap 🤪... just enough to get us in the road-trip mood 😏!!

Hey fellow travelers,

I'm back in the "travel journal" section to share our 15-day adventure in Kenya in November 2024. It was pretty much our first time in East Africa (since Zanzibar doesn’t really count 😜).

As usual, I’m sharing the journal I made for our loved ones—still as casual and cheerful as ever, just to give them a little break from their tough workdays 😄.

We organized the whole trip ourselves, and to be original here LOL, we took some *very* well-trodden paths: Naivasha, Tsavo, and Diani. But what I loved about this country is that it’s so easy to go off the beaten track—even on the "tourist highways" 😉.

So, if you're a safari fanatic or after stunning wildlife photos, you might be disappointed. But if you want to discover other sides of Kenya, you might just find what you're looking for 😉.

Looking forward to sharing this fun journey with you all 😊.

Well, here we go, despite the lack of info on Zambia, I managed to pull off this pretty special trip. I’d posted asking for tips but got very few replies. So I leaned heavily on Giradhino’s travel journal to plan the route.

The context: After visiting Kenya, then Namibia, then Botswana, I wanted to see another Southern African country—hence Zambia. This time, we’re two couples: us (of course) and our friends we’ve traveled with to the last two countries mentioned. The idea was to do a self-drive trip, picking up a 4x4 at the airport and figuring it out as we went.

We rented our fully equipped vehicle from Hemingways, an agency in Livingstone. Great agency (really), I’ll talk more about them later. It came with rooftop tents and all the gear for cooking and everything... However, our goal was to sleep in lodges and only use the tents as a last resort. Mission accomplished—we never even unfolded the tents. Guess we’re getting old 🙂

The route (summary): Lusaka - Kasanka NP - Bangweulu NP - Mutinondo - Kapishya - North Luangwa - South Luangwa and back to Lusaka.

That said, let’s hit the road for this travel journal of a pretty lively trip. Reminder: I’m more of a filmmaker, so I’ve got tons of footage but very few photos. The ones I have were taken on my phone, so they’re not great quality. My wife’s the one who handles that side of things.

Day 1:

At 9 a.m. sharp (or close enough), we leave the Lyon area, heading to Paris CDG. Our flight’s at 9:30 p.m., but it’s a busy Saturday with holiday traffic, so we play it safe to avoid jams—especially since the Olympics (hosted in Paris, in case you didn’t know) are causing extra traffic issues.

We’re relaxed and happy to be on our way. The drive goes smoothly. We take the eastern route around Paris to reach a hotel with parking at a better price than the airport lots. We leave the car there, and a shuttle takes us to Terminal 2. Bad luck—we’re actually flying from Terminal 1! The transfer between terminals is quick, though, so no stress.

After the usual formalities (with Rwandair), we end up in the Duty Free.

A rare rant-free moment: Usually, I let off steam in my travel journals now and then, but this time it’s the opposite. I had a terrible memory of CDG and had been avoiding it for years. But this time—Olympics effect? A big change? What a pleasant surprise! The staff were plentiful and super friendly at every pre-flight step, making everything easier. Comfortable seats for waiting to board. Well done, CDG!

We buy Ricard, Jack Daniel’s, and Get 27 to handle any situation that might come up. We board on time, and that’s when our adventures with Rwandair really begin. Yep, the first hiccup!

We’d booked our tickets back in October and (since we don’t hold back!) had paid extra for preferred seats on all our flights. Since October, we’d received emails about schedule changes—just a few minutes here and there. Unfortunately, we never got an email saying that *on top of* the schedule change, the plane’s configuration had also changed. So when we boarded with our seats (all four of us together at row 25), we were furious to see that the preferred seats were now row 23. We’d been *completely* scammed. We’d paid extra to end up in seats we’d been trying to avoid! You could say Rwandair double-dipped on the same seats. What a rip-off! We tried to negotiate an upgrade, but the flight was full. So our flight to Kigali started with a real sense of anger.

The +: We’re on our way The -: Rwandair

Hello,

Who among us hasn’t dreamed of having a ticket to Tahiti, Bora Bora, or the Marquesas in their pocket—preferably a one-way ticket to “paradise”?

Idyllic landscape of a dream island, but difficult to access: the Bay of Virgins in Fatu Hiva, Marquesas Islands

Among the values conveyed by literature, tourism, and advertising is the quest for “elsewhere,” for a change of scenery, in the truest sense of the word—that is, the need to leave one’s country. This need for otherness, for difference, is projected onto dreamlike, idealized, even mythicized places. In our imaginary world, the island is often that place.

Yet we forget that islands have also been ideal prisons. The examples are numerous: Elba and Saint Helena, Alcatraz and Poulo Condor, If and Yeu, the Devil’s Islands and Leros. The latter, located in Greece in the Dodecanese, hosted a sinister forced labor camp during the colonels’ dictatorship as well as a psychiatric hospital. Despite the beauty of its bay, tourism has remained marginal there due to its bad reputation, unlike the neighboring island of Patmos.

I’d like to share a selection of about a dozen islands from across the world’s seas and oceans. For dreaming...

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SANTORINI



July 27, 1967

At dawn, the ferry from Agios Nikolaos (Crete) enters the immense caldera of Santorini. From the ship’s deck, Rainer, my travel companion, and I are left in awe by the sight of these towering, multicolored cliffs looming over us. We disembark and begin the steep climb on foot via the winding mule path up to the village of Fira, the capital perched above the cliff. Though it’s still very early, we head to the youth hostel. There wasn’t a soul in the alleys that morning—or rather, there were only cats! I have a fond memory of that encounter with Santorini: a sensory shock, a breathtaking volcanic site, a harmony of blue, ochre-red, and white. A welcoming island, as it was traditional to welcome the xénou, an island that hadn’t yet fully recovered from the terrible 1956 earthquake, a Cycladic architectural marvel where local life was still preserved.

It’s easy to see why, in antiquity, the island was named Kallisté (καλλίστη), “the most beautiful,” as it’s nearly impossible to resist gazing at this landscape shaped by tectonic forces. Indeed, a massive volcanic cataclysm—the Minoan eruption—shaped this scenery in the 17th century BCE, creating a caldera that was quickly filled by the sea. The enormous tsunamis that followed reached Crete, leading to the disappearance of the Minoan civilization.

A cliffside path along the caldera leads us to the peaceful village of Oia, at the northern tip of the island. Blue-domed churches and flower-filled villages with whitewashed houses line the way. This walk is a continuous marvel, offering splendid views of the caldera and the neighboring islands formed by the breakup of the ancient volcano (Thirissa, Nea Kameni). Oia is a large, picturesque village, like Fira perched on the cliff’s edge, which was severely damaged by the 1956 earthquake, and its scars are still visible. Its cave-like houses with vaulted roofs haven’t yet been turned into luxury hotels or shops. Absolute tranquility reigns here.

Oia in 1967—a peaceful village overlooking the caldera. But where are the pools and trendy bars?

A lush countryside covered in olive trees and vineyards welcomes us for a pleasant hike, interrupted by the kindness of a friendly islander who gives us a lift in his truck for a few kilometers. He’s off to harvest his tomatoes, which he grows at the foot of Pyrgos Hill. The delicious little cherry tomato of Santorini earned an EU Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) in 2013. We climb up to the village of Pyrgos, perched on a hill and dominated by the elegant bell tower of its church. Finally, we reach the black sand beach of Kamari on the island’s eastern coast to enjoy a swim.

{...} To be continued





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RAIVAVAE (French Polynesia)



November 15, 2007

Éléonore from Pension Tama welcomes us with traditional flower leis, as if she’d been waiting for old friends she hadn’t seen in ages. The small airport terminal is lively, the atmosphere warm—people hugging, rejoicing in reunions, all under kilos of flowers. Then, just as quickly, the place empties until the next flight... in a few days.



In the Austral Islands, a ninety-minute flight from Tahiti, Raivavae is a world away from the frenetic pace of Papeete or the tourist crowds of the Leeward Islands. The true paradise of the South Seas can still be savored here—it’s a bit like Bora Bora half a century ago. Our first feeling upon arriving on this island is wonder, with smiles that could melt even the gloomiest among us, landscapes so stunning they take your breath away, and above all, a sense of disorientation and fulfillment. Picture a mountainous island, about ten kilometers by three and a half, encircled by a coral reef and wild motu, cradling a lagoon with shades of blue that would make Bora Bora green with envy.

The roughly one thousand inhabitants of Raivavae are spread across four villages around the island. Children are everywhere, as is typical in Polynesia, and they greet you with open, genuine smiles. Here, ancestral values have survived progress. The predominantly Protestant population is very devout, as evidenced by the several temples built across the island. Religious fervor sets the rhythm of daily life. Sundays are reserved for worship and Sunday school (catechism). Work is forbidden on that day, and tourist activities are suspended. These rules are strict and respected.

Hat contest for the worship celebration

Yet a sense of resignation is ever-present. The people of Raivavae know they are—and will remain—isolated. Despite the construction of an airstrip in 2004 and a few weekly flights to Tahiti and its nearest neighbor, Tubuai (200 km away), the island remains on the fringes of the world. One painful aspect is the separation of children from their parents when they leave for middle school in Tubuai starting in fifth grade. Television brings daily images of a world the islanders will likely never know, but one they often aspire to.

We are privileged. We have the pristine white-sand beaches of the motu and some of the most beautiful bays in Polynesia all to ourselves. The jewel in the crown, the island’s emblematic spot, is the “motu-pool,” about twenty minutes by boat. A natural, exquisite basin with crystal-clear water, gradients of blue, and white sand. And best of all, there’s almost no one there. In fact, lounging on the beach is frowned upon, especially for young women. Religion looks very unfavorably on sunbathing and lazing around. And yet, everything here leans toward that philosophy of life.



The "motu-pool"

{...} To be continued

Bonsoir tout le monde !🙂

J’ai pour projet de partir en randonner à pied sur plusieurs jours, je suis débutant dans le monde du trekking. J’aimerais partir de Normanville (27930) en me donnant comme point d’arrivé Etretat (76790). Ce projet se fera sur plusieurs jours de marches, en bivouaquant dans la nature. Je suis plutôt sportif, c’est ma première randonnée, je pense pouvoir faire entre 25-35km (cela reste à déterminer en fonction des reliefs du trajet. Ce projet a donné naissance à une multitude de questions, c’est pour cela que je me tourne vers vous pour en apprendre davantage sur le sujet et trouver réponses à mes questions.

Ou j’en suis ? Pour le moment je suis en train de réfléchir sur l’itinéraire, pour se faire je travaille avec le site Openrunner, peut(être avez vous un autre outil plus performant à me conseiller ? J’ai vu qu’il existe bon nombre de sentiers, avez-vous des petites idées sur lesquelles je pourrais potentiellement emprunter ? La grande question c'est , comment bien organiser son trajet ?

Concernant le bivouaqage, comment trouver de bon endroit ? Je vous remercie d’avance à la contribution que vous apporterez au sujet

Bonne soirée

Allez je me lance : après le carnet philippin , voici le carnet indonésien retraçant une semaine passée au sein du parc de Komodo .

J’espère qu’il pourra aider les futurs voyageurs et les aidera à patienter jusque là .

Pour les nouveaux venus, nous voyageons en famille avec nos enfants qui avaient 15 ans au moment du voyage , qui s’est déroulé pendant les vacances de la Toussaint 2017 (une semaine à Komodo et une semaine à Bali essentiellement dans la région d’Ubud pendant la fête de Galungan )

Ce voyage fut le premier pour nous en Asie (et vous avez pu constater qu’il ne fut pas le dernier). Il a été fait en autonomie sans passer par une agence mais tout a été programmé et booké en avance.

Aller à Komodo pour un premier séjour asiatique n’est pas forcément très commun mais je rêvais de rencontrer et si possible de nager/plonger avec des raies manta. Plus voir les fameux dragons, ça ne se refuse pas c'est unique ...

Cela fut un bon prétexte pour ma fille et moi , après un baptême réalisé au Mexique en 2013, de passer notre Openwater à Marseille en juillet 2017 en prévision . Les hommes ne nous ont pas suivies (hélas pour notre porte monnaie , vu qu'au final ils ont décidé de plonger à Komodo et sans certification cela revient le double/plongée ... )

Pourquoi une semaine à Komodo ? Pour prendre le temps d’apprécier à sa juste valeur ce parc réputé pour être une destination phare pour les amoureux de plongée et snorkeling et bien en profiter.

Après une nuit proche de Labuan Bajo ( qui se trouve sur l’ile de Florès et qui est le port de départ pour le parc de Komodo) , nous avons fait une croisière de 4 jours/3 nuits puis deux jours de plongée en dormant sur l’ile de Sebayur directement au sein du parc national.

A bientôt pour la suite !

After my trip to Oregon in 2018 (see Travel Journal "Oregon and Only Oregon"), I vaguely intended to return to the West (the western USA, of course—the west of France is where I almost live) someday, later... with no specific date or plan.

November 2018, I stumbled upon a promotion for round-trip flights from Paris to San Francisco. Well, I *stumbled*—they must’ve collected some "data" on me to make sure this deal crossed my path. And it worked! My ESTA was still valid, and two days later, it was decided: May 13, 2019 (departure from Paris) to June 15, 2019 (return to Paris).

The travel style? Just like last year: low-budget trip, rental car, and accommodation only in campgrounds, with no reservations to stay as free as possible.

Exceptions? 3 nights in a youth hostel upon arrival in downtown San Francisco, and 1 night on the way back (right before flying) in Montara, near Pacifica—a spot that seemed well-located for driving back to the airport in the middle of the night.

Now, to sketch out the rough itinerary. Here’s what it looked like after the trip:

Westernmost point: Montara Lighthouse on the coast, 30 km south of San Francisco (California); Easternmost point: Zion National Park (Utah). Northernmost point: Reno (Nevada). Southernmost point: Spring Mountain Ranch State Park in Blue Diamond, near Las Vegas (Nevada).

Another view:



I’ll be spending 33 days in this little area! I’m a slow traveler.

Meanwhile, I realized that in some places I wanted to visit (Las Vegas and National Parks), it was better to book ahead. So, I added to my reservations: - 2 nights in a hostel in Las Vegas - 6 nights of camping in the national parks (2 at Zion NP, 2 at Yosemite NP, 2 at Sequoia-Kings Canyon NP). Between all these dated stops, it’s a choose-your-own-adventure from the ideas I found.

I’m also a slow writer—slow writer, slow traveler—so it’ll take me a while to wrap this up. I’ll start tomorrow.

bonjour je pars juillet aout a saint domingue j'evite punta cana .faut il reserver ses hotels a l'avance ou ou peut trouver au dernier moment des hotels.merci de vos réponses