Results for "Turquie+sécurité"
About 14,481 results.
More options
Many results are in French, the community’s main language. English translations are added over time.
Search results
Voyage autour des 5 sens
Les 5 sens:
L'ouïe😏
Le toucher😊
Le goût😛
L'odorat😄
La vue🙂
Pour chacun d'eux, quels sont vos plus forts souvenirs de voyage?
L'ouïe😏
Le toucher😊
Le goût😛
L'odorat😄
La vue🙂
Pour chacun d'eux, quels sont vos plus forts souvenirs de voyage?
France-Népal en voiture
Je voudrais savoir si qqn a déja tenté l'aventure, bon je sais pas si d'ici que je me lance j'aurai le combi, bien pratique pr un péripe com ça, mai je voulais savoir si il y a bcp de pièces de rechanges à prévoir, et si des notions en mécanique st indispensables! (pr un combi mai aussi pr une voiture)
Avec les détours pour ne pas faire de la route "pure" bien sur(ex. un crochet vers samarcande) je table sur 10 000km. Je suis pessimiste?c'est moins ou il faut bien ça? Et je pense étaler ça sur deux mois et demi(aller-retour bien sur!) Si vs avez des infos, merci!!!
Avec les détours pour ne pas faire de la route "pure" bien sur(ex. un crochet vers samarcande) je table sur 10 000km. Je suis pessimiste?c'est moins ou il faut bien ça? Et je pense étaler ça sur deux mois et demi(aller-retour bien sur!) Si vs avez des infos, merci!!!
Questions aux voyageurs/ses en solo
Sans y participer, j'ai beaucoup lu ce forum ainsi que quelques autres. Enrichissant et.. questionnant 🤪
Voyageuse en individuel (c'est-à-dire hors circuits organisés) mais toujours à deux depuis longtemps, je suis tentée par le voyage en solo puisque je dispose de plus de temps (et d'envie) que les personnes qui pourraient m'accompagner. Seulement... je suis loin d'être une aventurière. D'où mon cheptel de questions: Avez-vous des angoisses vraiment fortes avant de partir, une fois sur place? Quelles sont vos peurs en général? Que craignez-vous le plus une fois seul(e) dans un pays inconnu? Ou êtes vous au contraires de ces "chanceux" qui savent juguler leurs angoisses, leurs appréhensions, qui en font une force (je vois pas comment mais bon... :-) )? Avez-vous suffisamment confiance en vous-même pour être quasi certain de vous tirer de toutes les situations une fois loin? Ou vous n'y pensez même pas? Ou c'est ça qui vous booste, le plaisir de se surpasser? Bref, si vous étiez un(e) mega angoissé(e) totalement névrotique (bon, j'arrête, ça va faire beaucoup :-) au départ, comment avez-vous réussi à passer outre? En fait, je suis surtout curieuse d'entendre des ex angoissés, ou des encore angoissés. Si vous êtes de la race des vrais aventuriers qui savent contrôler leurs peurs, ne répondez pas, je vous déteste 😄 (mais vous pouvez quand même donner vos recettes, on ne sait jamais, des fois qu'elles servent à de vrais terrifiés ;-)
Voyageuse en individuel (c'est-à-dire hors circuits organisés) mais toujours à deux depuis longtemps, je suis tentée par le voyage en solo puisque je dispose de plus de temps (et d'envie) que les personnes qui pourraient m'accompagner. Seulement... je suis loin d'être une aventurière. D'où mon cheptel de questions: Avez-vous des angoisses vraiment fortes avant de partir, une fois sur place? Quelles sont vos peurs en général? Que craignez-vous le plus une fois seul(e) dans un pays inconnu? Ou êtes vous au contraires de ces "chanceux" qui savent juguler leurs angoisses, leurs appréhensions, qui en font une force (je vois pas comment mais bon... :-) )? Avez-vous suffisamment confiance en vous-même pour être quasi certain de vous tirer de toutes les situations une fois loin? Ou vous n'y pensez même pas? Ou c'est ça qui vous booste, le plaisir de se surpasser? Bref, si vous étiez un(e) mega angoissé(e) totalement névrotique (bon, j'arrête, ça va faire beaucoup :-) au départ, comment avez-vous réussi à passer outre? En fait, je suis surtout curieuse d'entendre des ex angoissés, ou des encore angoissés. Si vous êtes de la race des vrais aventuriers qui savent contrôler leurs peurs, ne répondez pas, je vous déteste 😄 (mais vous pouvez quand même donner vos recettes, on ne sait jamais, des fois qu'elles servent à de vrais terrifiés ;-)
Chypre: superbe destination à découvrir!
Personne ne parle de Chypre sur ce forum pourtant c'est une île magnifique et à decouvrir vraiment : plages desertes, habitants extra, ambiance assurés, nourriture ( j'en reve encore!!) etc etc. Une idée pour tous ceux qui ne savent pas ou partir !!!😉
Bostwana: Réserve de Moremi (Delta de l'Okavango)
Bonjour
je recherche l'avis de voyageur ayant circulé en 4*4 dans la reserve de moremi dans le delta de l'okavango
je pense partir camper près du pont que l'on nomme Third bridge. Il y a, parait-il, de nombreux animaux sauvages dont des lions.
Si une personne a des conseils à me donner pour circuler dans ce lieu, ils sont les bienvenus
merci
seb
http://afrique.waika9.com
je recherche l'avis de voyageur ayant circulé en 4*4 dans la reserve de moremi dans le delta de l'okavango
je pense partir camper près du pont que l'on nomme Third bridge. Il y a, parait-il, de nombreux animaux sauvages dont des lions.
Si une personne a des conseils à me donner pour circuler dans ce lieu, ils sont les bienvenus
merci
seb
http://afrique.waika9.com
Kyrgyzstan: Practical Information 2026
Recent information about this country is scarce, so I’m starting this post in addition to my travel journal to help fill the gap.
- Which airline from Europe?
Turkish Airlines seems like an excellent option. The price is very reasonable (just over 500 €), the layover isn’t too long, the in-flight comfort is decent (great movie selection), and the planes are modern. Plus, the price automatically includes 30 kilos of luggage, which is perfect for campers.
The downside: the outrageous prices at Istanbul Airport.
- Bishkek Airport
The airport is under full reconstruction. It’s chaotic. There are SIM card vendors upon arrival, but no currency exchange or ATMs in the baggage claim area. You’ll find those in the departures section, which means you have to exit and re-enter under the current setup.
Personally, I pre-booked a VTC with my hotel for the transfer to the city. (Prices vary depending on the hotel’s standard—1200 soms for mine.)
There are taxis and a bus available.
- Entry Requirements
No visa is required for French citizens for stays of up to 30 days.
- Currency
The currency is the som, and the conversion is easy—just divide by 100...
You can get soms by exchanging euros (dollars are useless) or by withdrawing from an ATM. Some ATMs charge fees. Those from Mbank and Optimabank are fee-free.
The maximum withdrawal is usually 20,000 soms.
Bills come in 5000, 1000, 500, 200, 100, 50, and 20 soms.
Coins: 10, 5, 3, and 1 som.
- Paying
Card payments are accepted in supermarkets like Globus, some restaurants, gas stations of major chains (Bishkek Petroleum, Partner Neft, Red Petroleum), some hotels, national park entrances, tolls, etc.
But it doesn’t always work.
So always carry cash with you!
If the card works, great—otherwise, it’s back to the old days of wads of bills.
- Cost of Living
It’s really cheap (gas, affordable restaurants even at a decent standard, hotels, souvenirs, fruits, vegetables, water, bread...). For example, a lagman costs only 3.20 €, fixing a flat tire is 3.5 €, a full hour-long wash for a filthy 4x4 is 6 €, washing a big bag of laundry is 3 €, and a liter of 95-octane gas is 0.86 €...
On the pricier side: guesthouses and meals in guesthouses. The value for money is poor. I paid 40 € for a mediocre room with a very basic shared bathroom, while a double with AC, private bathroom, and fridge in a non-touristy hotel cost 20 €... Meals in guesthouses are the worst I’ve eaten and often the most expensive. Plus, they’re very light—don’t expect to fill up after a long day of hiking!
Car rentals are also quite expensive (70 $ per day for a RAV4 in my case).
In short, for two people, excluding accommodation and car rental, we spent an average of 45 € per day (groceries, restaurants, guesthouse dinners, souvenirs, paid activities, gas).
The trip cost us 2200 € per person all-inclusive for 3 weeks on the ground. Roughly 1/4 for the flight, 1/4 for the car, 1/4 for accommodation, and 1/4 for everything else.
- Getting Around
I’ve met cyclists, motorcyclists, people renting cars, those who drove their own vehicles from Europe, and others using public transport and taxis.
Personally, I chose to rent a car.
If you’re not planning long hikes or multi-day horse treks, it’s a great option for exploring the country.
Each car rental company has its own list of forbidden tracks. Make sure your planned route is allowed! Don’t think about ignoring this—vehicles are equipped with GPS trackers...
An international driver’s permit is required.
Police and speed cameras are everywhere, so it’s best to respect the signs (daytime running lights, seatbelts, 40-60 km/h in populated areas, 90 km/h on roads, zero tolerance for alcohol).
Locals have a unique driving style, and it can be dangerous on main roads (they overtake recklessly...). Like in Greece, South Africa, or Malta, a two-lane road is treated as a three-lane one. You pull over to let others pass or to let oncoming traffic overtake.
Without a car (at least a pseudo-4x4), you won’t be able to go everywhere. This country is a nature destination, but nature isn’t always accessible by public transport.
If a spot is near a road, great—the bus will get you almost to the door. Otherwise, you’ll need to hire an agency or take a taxi.
Cyclists will face steep climbs and dust. I’d advise avoiding main roads as much as possible—traffic isn’t on your side...
Motorcyclists will also eat a lot of dust and should research gas stations along their route (this advice also applies to vehicles running on 95-octane).
There’s a 95-octane pump in Kazarman and Gulcha.
Bikes and motorcycles have an advantage over cars, even 4x4s, as they can access some very remote tracks that other vehicles can’t (hikers and horses can obviously take them too!).
Be careful: some areas require a permit (border zones). Research this well in advance—the formalities don’t take an hour or even a day!
Be warned: Google Maps is completely unreliable (it shows roads that don’t exist, routes you through difficult tracks instead of paved roads, etc.). It’s essential to download Maps.me in advance. This app is much more reliable for this country, works offline, and is handy for hiking navigation.
A reminder: horseback riding is like cycling... If you’re not used to it or naturally padded in the right places, your backside will suffer in no time!
Think carefully before embarking on a multi-day trek!
Finally, this country is a kingdom of construction... The Chinese have taken over the market to improve truck circulation and are paving everywhere. (Good news: the Kazarman-Osh section via the tunnel is finally open in summer, even if the road isn’t quite finished.)
- Eating
I had prejudices about Kyrgyz food.
I was both wrong and right.
Supermarkets don’t offer much that’s appealing for picnics. It’s cheap, filling food, full of junk, and not gourmet. If you follow Yuka, I think you’ll be on a diet the whole trip. Bringing some pâté, sausages, or freeze-dried meals for certain nights is a good idea...
Guesthouse dinners consist of the eternal cucumber-tomato salad, a soup, and a light noodle or rice dish where you’ll be searching for the meat... Usually tough and unidentifiable. Beef? The bread is stale, and there’s no dessert or fruit.
Breakfasts always revolve around eggs or porridge... The homemade jam is usually good.
Tea is the number one drink, followed by kompot (a fruit-based drink), Coke, and Fanta.
If you want real coffee, bring your own—it’s very rare.
On the other hand, you eat well in restaurants. Lagman (homemade noodles, vegetables, spices, and usually beef), crispy eggplant, kuurdak (a kind of lamb stew with potatoes), kebabs, plov (pilaf rice with onions, carrots, and meat), and rainbow trout... For dessert? Nada!
And alcohol?
It’s available in all Globus stores: beer, wine, spirits, and you can consume your purchases in some guesthouses (depending on the owner’s religious tolerance). It’s also available in some restaurants (Bishkek, Karakol, Osh...).
The deadly specialty?
White fermented milk balls called kurut. If you think a raw-milk camembert is strong, steer clear! This is more like an old, dry, spicy goat cheese.
- Accommodation
In remote areas, it’s better to check availability on Booking a few days in advance rather than showing up last minute with high hopes.
Booking and Airbnb only offer a small portion of what’s available.
Not necessarily guesthouses, but mostly accommodations aimed at locals (business or leisure travel).
These places are generally more comfortable. There’s even some upscale options.
So it’s necessary to scour Google Maps or Yandex Maps... These accommodations are usually found on Instagram, and WhatsApp is handy for booking!
Prices are a bit of a lottery. So is the comfort. From 20 to 80 € for a double, usually with a private bathroom. (Average around 40 €). These rates are for mid-range options.
Otherwise, this country is a paradise for wild camping. In a camper van, rooftop tent, or ground tent... There are beautiful spots everywhere!
- Climate
I thought it would be quite cool/cold at altitude.
I packed too many warm clothes...
If you’re not doing high-altitude treks or sleeping in a tent, there’s no need to overload yourself with winter gear.
A good fleece, a windproof rain jacket, and technical base layers will be enough.
It only got really cold in the evenings at Song Kul Lake and Tash Rabat, and the yurts are equipped with thick blankets and a stove.
Elsewhere, temperatures ranged from 15 to 30 °C.
In short, I used the AC more than the heater! (It’s hard to drive with the windows open unless you want to be covered in dust in no time...)
- Communication
I bought an eSIM before the trip with a data plan for Kyrgyzstan (Beeline network). Perfect for communicating via WhatsApp right after landing, but this network isn’t the best in Kyrgyzstan.
We then got a physical SIM card with an unlimited one-month plan (less than 4 € including the SIM) at a Mega store downtown. This network is much better, and you get coverage in all cities and most villages. Usually in the mountain passes too.
To make yourself understood, it’s essential to download Google Translate with French, Kyrgyz, Russian, and English options.
Very useful for translating menus, signs, and communicating with locals.
Hosts and other tourism professionals will even pull out their phones to communicate with non-Russian speakers.
The police too...
- Religion
There’s a noticeable difference between the north and the southwest of the country.
In the north, it’s a bit like Albania. People are Muslim by culture but not really by religion.
In the southwest, radical Islam is growing. Mosques are more numerous and imposing. Men are more bearded, women more veiled.
For travelers, religion isn’t an issue except for the near-total absence of pork.
There’s Russian sausage, but reading the ingredient list, it’s more like a one-way ticket to cancer than an Auvergne dry sausage...

You can find the detailed account of the trip here.
- Which airline from Europe?
Turkish Airlines seems like an excellent option. The price is very reasonable (just over 500 €), the layover isn’t too long, the in-flight comfort is decent (great movie selection), and the planes are modern. Plus, the price automatically includes 30 kilos of luggage, which is perfect for campers.
The downside: the outrageous prices at Istanbul Airport.
- Bishkek Airport
The airport is under full reconstruction. It’s chaotic. There are SIM card vendors upon arrival, but no currency exchange or ATMs in the baggage claim area. You’ll find those in the departures section, which means you have to exit and re-enter under the current setup.
Personally, I pre-booked a VTC with my hotel for the transfer to the city. (Prices vary depending on the hotel’s standard—1200 soms for mine.)
There are taxis and a bus available.
- Entry Requirements
No visa is required for French citizens for stays of up to 30 days.
- Currency
The currency is the som, and the conversion is easy—just divide by 100...
You can get soms by exchanging euros (dollars are useless) or by withdrawing from an ATM. Some ATMs charge fees. Those from Mbank and Optimabank are fee-free.
The maximum withdrawal is usually 20,000 soms.
Bills come in 5000, 1000, 500, 200, 100, 50, and 20 soms.
Coins: 10, 5, 3, and 1 som.
- Paying
Card payments are accepted in supermarkets like Globus, some restaurants, gas stations of major chains (Bishkek Petroleum, Partner Neft, Red Petroleum), some hotels, national park entrances, tolls, etc.
But it doesn’t always work.
So always carry cash with you!
If the card works, great—otherwise, it’s back to the old days of wads of bills.
- Cost of Living
It’s really cheap (gas, affordable restaurants even at a decent standard, hotels, souvenirs, fruits, vegetables, water, bread...). For example, a lagman costs only 3.20 €, fixing a flat tire is 3.5 €, a full hour-long wash for a filthy 4x4 is 6 €, washing a big bag of laundry is 3 €, and a liter of 95-octane gas is 0.86 €...
On the pricier side: guesthouses and meals in guesthouses. The value for money is poor. I paid 40 € for a mediocre room with a very basic shared bathroom, while a double with AC, private bathroom, and fridge in a non-touristy hotel cost 20 €... Meals in guesthouses are the worst I’ve eaten and often the most expensive. Plus, they’re very light—don’t expect to fill up after a long day of hiking!
Car rentals are also quite expensive (70 $ per day for a RAV4 in my case).
In short, for two people, excluding accommodation and car rental, we spent an average of 45 € per day (groceries, restaurants, guesthouse dinners, souvenirs, paid activities, gas).
The trip cost us 2200 € per person all-inclusive for 3 weeks on the ground. Roughly 1/4 for the flight, 1/4 for the car, 1/4 for accommodation, and 1/4 for everything else.
- Getting Around
I’ve met cyclists, motorcyclists, people renting cars, those who drove their own vehicles from Europe, and others using public transport and taxis.
Personally, I chose to rent a car.
If you’re not planning long hikes or multi-day horse treks, it’s a great option for exploring the country.
Each car rental company has its own list of forbidden tracks. Make sure your planned route is allowed! Don’t think about ignoring this—vehicles are equipped with GPS trackers...
An international driver’s permit is required.
Police and speed cameras are everywhere, so it’s best to respect the signs (daytime running lights, seatbelts, 40-60 km/h in populated areas, 90 km/h on roads, zero tolerance for alcohol).
Locals have a unique driving style, and it can be dangerous on main roads (they overtake recklessly...). Like in Greece, South Africa, or Malta, a two-lane road is treated as a three-lane one. You pull over to let others pass or to let oncoming traffic overtake.
Without a car (at least a pseudo-4x4), you won’t be able to go everywhere. This country is a nature destination, but nature isn’t always accessible by public transport.
If a spot is near a road, great—the bus will get you almost to the door. Otherwise, you’ll need to hire an agency or take a taxi.
Cyclists will face steep climbs and dust. I’d advise avoiding main roads as much as possible—traffic isn’t on your side...
Motorcyclists will also eat a lot of dust and should research gas stations along their route (this advice also applies to vehicles running on 95-octane).
There’s a 95-octane pump in Kazarman and Gulcha.
Bikes and motorcycles have an advantage over cars, even 4x4s, as they can access some very remote tracks that other vehicles can’t (hikers and horses can obviously take them too!).
Be careful: some areas require a permit (border zones). Research this well in advance—the formalities don’t take an hour or even a day!
Be warned: Google Maps is completely unreliable (it shows roads that don’t exist, routes you through difficult tracks instead of paved roads, etc.). It’s essential to download Maps.me in advance. This app is much more reliable for this country, works offline, and is handy for hiking navigation.
A reminder: horseback riding is like cycling... If you’re not used to it or naturally padded in the right places, your backside will suffer in no time!
Think carefully before embarking on a multi-day trek!
Finally, this country is a kingdom of construction... The Chinese have taken over the market to improve truck circulation and are paving everywhere. (Good news: the Kazarman-Osh section via the tunnel is finally open in summer, even if the road isn’t quite finished.)
- Eating
I had prejudices about Kyrgyz food.
I was both wrong and right.
Supermarkets don’t offer much that’s appealing for picnics. It’s cheap, filling food, full of junk, and not gourmet. If you follow Yuka, I think you’ll be on a diet the whole trip. Bringing some pâté, sausages, or freeze-dried meals for certain nights is a good idea...
Guesthouse dinners consist of the eternal cucumber-tomato salad, a soup, and a light noodle or rice dish where you’ll be searching for the meat... Usually tough and unidentifiable. Beef? The bread is stale, and there’s no dessert or fruit.
Breakfasts always revolve around eggs or porridge... The homemade jam is usually good.
Tea is the number one drink, followed by kompot (a fruit-based drink), Coke, and Fanta.
If you want real coffee, bring your own—it’s very rare.
On the other hand, you eat well in restaurants. Lagman (homemade noodles, vegetables, spices, and usually beef), crispy eggplant, kuurdak (a kind of lamb stew with potatoes), kebabs, plov (pilaf rice with onions, carrots, and meat), and rainbow trout... For dessert? Nada!
And alcohol?
It’s available in all Globus stores: beer, wine, spirits, and you can consume your purchases in some guesthouses (depending on the owner’s religious tolerance). It’s also available in some restaurants (Bishkek, Karakol, Osh...).
The deadly specialty?
White fermented milk balls called kurut. If you think a raw-milk camembert is strong, steer clear! This is more like an old, dry, spicy goat cheese.
- Accommodation
In remote areas, it’s better to check availability on Booking a few days in advance rather than showing up last minute with high hopes.
Booking and Airbnb only offer a small portion of what’s available.
Not necessarily guesthouses, but mostly accommodations aimed at locals (business or leisure travel).
These places are generally more comfortable. There’s even some upscale options.
So it’s necessary to scour Google Maps or Yandex Maps... These accommodations are usually found on Instagram, and WhatsApp is handy for booking!
Prices are a bit of a lottery. So is the comfort. From 20 to 80 € for a double, usually with a private bathroom. (Average around 40 €). These rates are for mid-range options.
Otherwise, this country is a paradise for wild camping. In a camper van, rooftop tent, or ground tent... There are beautiful spots everywhere!
- Climate
I thought it would be quite cool/cold at altitude.
I packed too many warm clothes...
If you’re not doing high-altitude treks or sleeping in a tent, there’s no need to overload yourself with winter gear.
A good fleece, a windproof rain jacket, and technical base layers will be enough.
It only got really cold in the evenings at Song Kul Lake and Tash Rabat, and the yurts are equipped with thick blankets and a stove.
Elsewhere, temperatures ranged from 15 to 30 °C.
In short, I used the AC more than the heater! (It’s hard to drive with the windows open unless you want to be covered in dust in no time...)
- Communication
I bought an eSIM before the trip with a data plan for Kyrgyzstan (Beeline network). Perfect for communicating via WhatsApp right after landing, but this network isn’t the best in Kyrgyzstan.
We then got a physical SIM card with an unlimited one-month plan (less than 4 € including the SIM) at a Mega store downtown. This network is much better, and you get coverage in all cities and most villages. Usually in the mountain passes too.
To make yourself understood, it’s essential to download Google Translate with French, Kyrgyz, Russian, and English options.
Very useful for translating menus, signs, and communicating with locals.
Hosts and other tourism professionals will even pull out their phones to communicate with non-Russian speakers.
The police too...
- Religion
There’s a noticeable difference between the north and the southwest of the country.
In the north, it’s a bit like Albania. People are Muslim by culture but not really by religion.
In the southwest, radical Islam is growing. Mosques are more numerous and imposing. Men are more bearded, women more veiled.
For travelers, religion isn’t an issue except for the near-total absence of pork.
There’s Russian sausage, but reading the ingredient list, it’s more like a one-way ticket to cancer than an Auvergne dry sausage...

You can find the detailed account of the trip here.
Thaïlande: témoin d'une scène inhumaine
Salut a tous,
Ce matin, en rentrant de ma petite sortie a velo, j apercois de loin un vehicule de la police genre panier a salade, le vehicule est arreter en bord de route juste en face d un restaurant en pleine campagne. Passant a coter, je jette un coup d oeil dans le camion cage et horrifier j apercois pleins de pauvres Birmans torse nus, entassee comme du betail en plein caniard sous un soleil de plomb alors que les policiers dejeunent tranquillement tous en rigolant sans se soucier des Birmans.
Voyage éphémère: se sentir bien?
Je voudrais recueillir vos opinions sur cette réflexion : est ce que ce n'est pas parce que le voyage est éphémère que l'on se sent bien pendant le voyage ?
Je veux dire, quand on pars en voyage, par définition, on sait que c'est une situation provisoire, on est de passage. On tient le rôle d'étranger, ce qui est une place particulière, de courte durée ; ça a un côté confortable d'être l'étranger, on a une grande liberté, car on sait que quoi qu'il arrive, on rentre chez soi après, on va retrouver ses marques.
Alors je vous pose la question : quand vous voyagez quelque part, est-ce que vous vous posez la question de savoir si vous pourriez vivre à cet endroit pendant des années, sans connaitre la date exacte de retour, c'est à dire passer de l'autre côté de la barrière : vous n'êtres plus l'étranger mais "l'habitant", changement de regard de vous-même sur vous et de l'entourage sur vous.
Qu'en pensez vous ? .........
Alors je vous pose la question : quand vous voyagez quelque part, est-ce que vous vous posez la question de savoir si vous pourriez vivre à cet endroit pendant des années, sans connaitre la date exacte de retour, c'est à dire passer de l'autre côté de la barrière : vous n'êtres plus l'étranger mais "l'habitant", changement de regard de vous-même sur vous et de l'entourage sur vous.
Qu'en pensez vous ? .........
Train Moscou-Lhassa avec le transsibérien
Bonjour,
Nous avons un projet avec un ami de rejoindre Beijing depuis Moscou par le transiberien, puis de rejoindre Lhassa puis l'Inde. Combien de temps met le train entre Moscou et Beijing? Est il possible de s'arreter en cours de route (pour visiter) pour ne reprendre le train que quelques jours plus tard? combien coute le billet? est il facile a avoir? Peut on aller au Tibet a n'importe quelle saison (novembre-decembre en l'occurence)? La route qui relie Lhassa a Katmandu est elle utilisable en decembre?
Merci d'avance pour votre aide
Seeking testimonials from Pieds-Noirs who recently returned to Algeria
Hello,
I’m looking for testimonials from Pieds-Noirs who have recently returned to Algeria.
There can’t be many left after 65 years of the country’s independence.
I’m planning to go back myself soon to reconnect with my roots... before I pass away...
I’ve started making a few pre-bookings for hotels and apartments to rent in Algiers. At first, I received friendly and welcoming responses. Then, when I mentioned I wanted to stay for two or three weeks—maybe even a month—explaining that my trip wouldn’t be strictly touristy but more of a pilgrimage to the places of my childhood, and that it would likely be a very emotional journey, I expected a positive and warm reaction to my approach. Instead, I suddenly stopped getting replies from the three or four people I’d contacted. So now I’m wondering about the reception former Pieds-Noirs can expect...
Anyone here who can share their experience of returning? I specified “recently” because it seems that right now, diplomatic relations between the two governments are extremely tense, not to say hostile... even if Macron claims otherwise...
There can’t be many left after 65 years of the country’s independence.
I’m planning to go back myself soon to reconnect with my roots... before I pass away...
I’ve started making a few pre-bookings for hotels and apartments to rent in Algiers. At first, I received friendly and welcoming responses. Then, when I mentioned I wanted to stay for two or three weeks—maybe even a month—explaining that my trip wouldn’t be strictly touristy but more of a pilgrimage to the places of my childhood, and that it would likely be a very emotional journey, I expected a positive and warm reaction to my approach. Instead, I suddenly stopped getting replies from the three or four people I’d contacted. So now I’m wondering about the reception former Pieds-Noirs can expect...
Anyone here who can share their experience of returning? I specified “recently” because it seems that right now, diplomatic relations between the two governments are extremely tense, not to say hostile... even if Macron claims otherwise...
Practical aspects spring 2026: border to Murmansk, to Pskov, SIM cards, internet.
I took a few days to get some fresh air outside the Schengen-NATO prison. Between March 18, 2026, and March 25, 2026, as shown by the passport stamps:

Borisoglebsk is the Russian border checkpoint after Kirkenes, on the road to Murmansk.
Kirkenes is a tiny town with a correspondingly small airport. Nothing has changed there: the minibuses to Murmansk wait on the right as you exit the airport. They’re synchronized with the two daily flights from Oslo—the SAS around 11:00 AM and Norwegian around 11:30 AM. They stop in Kirkenes at the corner of the Scandic for an hour, where other passengers can board, then head straight to the nearby border.
This is the least hassle Frontex/Schengen border. The Norwegian agent quickly scans your passport, and that’s it. No customs, since Norway is Schengen but not in the EU. On the Russian side, there’s a passport check and a quick customs inspection. All in all, crossing both the Norwegian and Russian checkpoints takes about 15 minutes.
A paper visa is required; e-visas aren’t accepted.
Two companies run the route: Avto Ekspress and Borodin: https://ae51.ru/routes/kirkenes-murmansk/ https://borodinbus.com/
The one-way fare is 5,500 ₽. You can either buy it online in rubles with a MIR card or make a formal reservation and pay in NOK cash to the driver. I took Borodin, and the price in NOK was much more expensive than in ₽.
=========================
On March 25, I left from Pskov via the Estonian border post at Luhaama. I spent three days in Murmansk, flew to St. Petersburg (SPB), stayed there for two days, then took an evening train to Pskov.
Since the end of February—and reportedly until the end of May—the Estonians have restricted the opening hours of the two border crossings near Pskov: Koidula (Pechory on the Russian side) and Luhaama (Izborsk on the Russian side). They’re closed at night between 7:00 PM and 7:00 AM. Right now, there’s a bus from Pskov at 7:00 AM to the border. It drops you off at the end of the road where truckers—many Kazakh and Serbian—are parked on the side. You finish the rest on foot to the barrier, where there’s a quick initial check for Ukrainian stamps in passports. Then you walk to the customs building, followed by passport control at the kiosk for motorists. After that, it’s a 500-meter walk to the Estonian checkpoint. At the moment, things seem calmer. Passport control is quick. The usual silly questions in English: "Where were you? Where are you going?" I just gave my most clueless smile: "Sorry, I don’t understand." Yeah, right—I don’t speak English, especially not at an Estonian border with a French passport. If they’re in a mood, though... A very quick bag inspection. Once you exit the Estonian post, walk to the bus stop sign by the road where another coach takes you to Riga.
The catch: in my case, last Wednesday, there were two passengers (Russians) with old Ukrainian stamps in their passports. The bus from the Estonian post to Riga was supposed to leave around 9:30 AM. We ended up leaving around noon after the two were grilled by the FSB. Since it was a weekday outside of holidays, the bus was half-empty. The fuller the bus and the more people with Ukrainian stamps, the worse the nightmare. Don’t book a same-day flight from Riga. I had a flight at 6:00 PM, so it worked out.
=============
The Kirkenes-Murmansk route is still clearly the easiest and fastest. But it’s not the most convenient since it’s way up north.
Next, I’d say the Gdansk-Kaliningrad route in the middle of the week. Avoid weekends and holiday departures/returns.
Avoid the Narva-Ivangorod route during Christmas, Easter, May 9, and *all* summer.
==============
About flights from Murmansk to St. Petersburg: prices are good. I bought my ticket the day before departure on Rossiya for 7,500 ₽, including 10 kg of luggage + a handbag.

It’s the tail end of the northern lights season, and there were still crowds of Chinese tourists.

By the way, Murmansk is twinned with Harbin:

Chinese tourists are the largest foreign group, followed by Indians, then a mix of others from the Far East, Turks, Arabs, etc. Brochures are bilingual—Russian and Chinese:

============================
But let’s talk practical stuff. --
My domestic SIM card was restricted for SMS and internet for 24 hours. After that, if you want to keep using SMS, don’t turn off your phone—restarting triggers another 24-hour purgatory.
My Russian SIM cards (Megafon, MTS, Beeline) were activated as soon as I logged into their respective apps with my credentials.
Internet --
Telegram is heavily slowed down by authorities. To use it, you need to connect through proxy servers, which you load into the latest version of the app. Traffic is then rerouted internally within Telegram to servers outside Russia (Germany, Poland, Sweden, etc.). You can find these proxies on various channels. One is ChatVPN—check their website too.
For general internet use, like browsing the web, VPNs that work right now use the VLESS protocol. You can find several on Telegram by searching "VPN." A few free days, then payment in rubles or crypto.
Rozkomnadzor’s team are experts at this, so things can change. It’s a constant cat-and-mouse game.
Pskov is a special case. The city is near Estonia and has a large military base. Depending on NATO drone swarms launched from the Baltics, Wi-Fi can be completely suspended except for the most essential mobile apps. The drone swarms use the 4G network, and the powerful electronic jamming and drone suppression systems cause periods without Wi-Fi—including in hotels. Wired connections aren’t affected.

Borisoglebsk is the Russian border checkpoint after Kirkenes, on the road to Murmansk.
Kirkenes is a tiny town with a correspondingly small airport. Nothing has changed there: the minibuses to Murmansk wait on the right as you exit the airport. They’re synchronized with the two daily flights from Oslo—the SAS around 11:00 AM and Norwegian around 11:30 AM. They stop in Kirkenes at the corner of the Scandic for an hour, where other passengers can board, then head straight to the nearby border.
This is the least hassle Frontex/Schengen border. The Norwegian agent quickly scans your passport, and that’s it. No customs, since Norway is Schengen but not in the EU. On the Russian side, there’s a passport check and a quick customs inspection. All in all, crossing both the Norwegian and Russian checkpoints takes about 15 minutes.
A paper visa is required; e-visas aren’t accepted.
Two companies run the route: Avto Ekspress and Borodin: https://ae51.ru/routes/kirkenes-murmansk/ https://borodinbus.com/
The one-way fare is 5,500 ₽. You can either buy it online in rubles with a MIR card or make a formal reservation and pay in NOK cash to the driver. I took Borodin, and the price in NOK was much more expensive than in ₽.
=========================
On March 25, I left from Pskov via the Estonian border post at Luhaama. I spent three days in Murmansk, flew to St. Petersburg (SPB), stayed there for two days, then took an evening train to Pskov.
Since the end of February—and reportedly until the end of May—the Estonians have restricted the opening hours of the two border crossings near Pskov: Koidula (Pechory on the Russian side) and Luhaama (Izborsk on the Russian side). They’re closed at night between 7:00 PM and 7:00 AM. Right now, there’s a bus from Pskov at 7:00 AM to the border. It drops you off at the end of the road where truckers—many Kazakh and Serbian—are parked on the side. You finish the rest on foot to the barrier, where there’s a quick initial check for Ukrainian stamps in passports. Then you walk to the customs building, followed by passport control at the kiosk for motorists. After that, it’s a 500-meter walk to the Estonian checkpoint. At the moment, things seem calmer. Passport control is quick. The usual silly questions in English: "Where were you? Where are you going?" I just gave my most clueless smile: "Sorry, I don’t understand." Yeah, right—I don’t speak English, especially not at an Estonian border with a French passport. If they’re in a mood, though... A very quick bag inspection. Once you exit the Estonian post, walk to the bus stop sign by the road where another coach takes you to Riga.
The catch: in my case, last Wednesday, there were two passengers (Russians) with old Ukrainian stamps in their passports. The bus from the Estonian post to Riga was supposed to leave around 9:30 AM. We ended up leaving around noon after the two were grilled by the FSB. Since it was a weekday outside of holidays, the bus was half-empty. The fuller the bus and the more people with Ukrainian stamps, the worse the nightmare. Don’t book a same-day flight from Riga. I had a flight at 6:00 PM, so it worked out.
=============
The Kirkenes-Murmansk route is still clearly the easiest and fastest. But it’s not the most convenient since it’s way up north.
Next, I’d say the Gdansk-Kaliningrad route in the middle of the week. Avoid weekends and holiday departures/returns.
Avoid the Narva-Ivangorod route during Christmas, Easter, May 9, and *all* summer.
==============
About flights from Murmansk to St. Petersburg: prices are good. I bought my ticket the day before departure on Rossiya for 7,500 ₽, including 10 kg of luggage + a handbag.

It’s the tail end of the northern lights season, and there were still crowds of Chinese tourists.

By the way, Murmansk is twinned with Harbin:

Chinese tourists are the largest foreign group, followed by Indians, then a mix of others from the Far East, Turks, Arabs, etc. Brochures are bilingual—Russian and Chinese:

============================
But let’s talk practical stuff. --
My domestic SIM card was restricted for SMS and internet for 24 hours. After that, if you want to keep using SMS, don’t turn off your phone—restarting triggers another 24-hour purgatory.
My Russian SIM cards (Megafon, MTS, Beeline) were activated as soon as I logged into their respective apps with my credentials.
Internet --
Telegram is heavily slowed down by authorities. To use it, you need to connect through proxy servers, which you load into the latest version of the app. Traffic is then rerouted internally within Telegram to servers outside Russia (Germany, Poland, Sweden, etc.). You can find these proxies on various channels. One is ChatVPN—check their website too.
For general internet use, like browsing the web, VPNs that work right now use the VLESS protocol. You can find several on Telegram by searching "VPN." A few free days, then payment in rubles or crypto.
Rozkomnadzor’s team are experts at this, so things can change. It’s a constant cat-and-mouse game.
Pskov is a special case. The city is near Estonia and has a large military base. Depending on NATO drone swarms launched from the Baltics, Wi-Fi can be completely suspended except for the most essential mobile apps. The drone swarms use the 4G network, and the powerful electronic jamming and drone suppression systems cause periods without Wi-Fi—including in hotels. Wired connections aren’t affected.
Qatar Airways: cancellation and incomplete rescheduling
So, even before starting my explanation, I’d like to introduce myself since this is my first post on the forum :) I’m Jérôme, a huge Asia enthusiast, and I’m currently in the process of moving to Japan with my family in 2028.
Now, onto the topic :)
We’re a family of four traveling together to Seoul, with two separate bookings.
Our original itinerary was: Madrid → Doha → Seoul (March 23–24)
The issue is that our entire outbound flight was canceled, and the airline simply rescheduled the Madrid → Doha leg. Now we’re left with an incomplete journey, with no solution to reach our final destination (Seoul).
Since then:
- Can’t modify flights online (technical error every time) - Can’t get help via chat or WhatsApp - Phone support is unreachable, and the usual French number isn’t working right now
We don’t want a refund. We just want to be rerouted to Seoul, as our original ticket promised.
We’re flexible:
- On dates (we can leave on March 21 or 22 instead of the 23rd) - On the itinerary (different layovers if needed)
Have any of you dealt with this before? Do you know how to unlock a booking in this case or get a rerouting? We’re considering going straight to the airport to resolve it at the Qatar Airways counter....
Thanks so much for your help! 😊
Now, onto the topic :)
We’re a family of four traveling together to Seoul, with two separate bookings.
Our original itinerary was: Madrid → Doha → Seoul (March 23–24)
The issue is that our entire outbound flight was canceled, and the airline simply rescheduled the Madrid → Doha leg. Now we’re left with an incomplete journey, with no solution to reach our final destination (Seoul).
Since then:
- Can’t modify flights online (technical error every time) - Can’t get help via chat or WhatsApp - Phone support is unreachable, and the usual French number isn’t working right now
We don’t want a refund. We just want to be rerouted to Seoul, as our original ticket promised.
We’re flexible:
- On dates (we can leave on March 21 or 22 instead of the 23rd) - On the itinerary (different layovers if needed)
Have any of you dealt with this before? Do you know how to unlock a booking in this case or get a rerouting? We’re considering going straight to the airport to resolve it at the Qatar Airways counter....
Thanks so much for your help! 😊
Airports in the Persian Gulf Emirates
Hi,
Right now, with the war raging in Iran and affecting all the neighboring countries of the Persian Gulf, many airports are completely closed to all traffic.
Several airlines like Qatar Airways, Emirates, and others have almost completely halted their operations.
Whether in the Middle East or Africa, many travelers are stranded—maybe for a long time... A heartfelt thought for them and the struggles this will cause.
Four months ago, I was in Kenya with a flight booked through Qatar Airways... I can’t even imagine how I’d react if I were stuck there now. ??
Wishing all these travelers courage, patience, and success in making it back home.
...
Doha Airport on October 21, 2025:

...
Right now, with the war raging in Iran and affecting all the neighboring countries of the Persian Gulf, many airports are completely closed to all traffic.
Several airlines like Qatar Airways, Emirates, and others have almost completely halted their operations.
Whether in the Middle East or Africa, many travelers are stranded—maybe for a long time... A heartfelt thought for them and the struggles this will cause.
Four months ago, I was in Kenya with a flight booked through Qatar Airways... I can’t even imagine how I’d react if I were stuck there now. ??
Wishing all these travelers courage, patience, and success in making it back home.
...
Doha Airport on October 21, 2025:

...
Some trips are born twice - Peru April - May 2025
Some trips are born twice.
Ours was supposed to happen in 2020. Everything was ready: the itinerary, the flight tickets, hotel reservations and Machu Picchu, the rental car, dreams of high altitudes and wide-open spaces. And then the world stopped.
Like so many other plans, our trip to Peru was put on hold. Disappointment was followed by a more concrete reality: paperwork, endless back-and-forth, and battles to recover some of the costs we’d already paid.
The years went by. Life moved on, with its shifting priorities and unexpected twists. Rescheduling this trip wasn’t possible until 2025.
The itinerary stayed mostly true to what we’d imagined five years earlier. One major difference, though—in 2020, we’d planned to rent a car and explore the roads completely independently. Most importantly, we hadn’t included the three-day Ausangate trek, due to lack of time.
For 2025, our plans evolved. 4x4 rental prices had skyrocketed, and when we looked at our schedule more closely, we realized quite a few days didn’t actually need a vehicle. So we made a different choice and opted for private drivers instead. A decision we never regretted. Always punctual, thoughtful, and available... they were so much more than just drivers.
All our reservations were made in January, except for the trek, which we booked in February.
Finding reliable drivers on our own was tough, so we asked Laurent from Tout Pérou to handle it for us. Going through Tout Pérou also gave us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, so Laurent booked those tickets too. He also bought our Machu Picchu entrance tickets at the same price we would’ve paid on the official website. When comparing domestic flight prices, we found it was cheaper to book from Peru, so Laurent took care of those as well.
This time, nothing was going to stop us. Peru was waiting. And we were ready. 🙂
Ours was supposed to happen in 2020. Everything was ready: the itinerary, the flight tickets, hotel reservations and Machu Picchu, the rental car, dreams of high altitudes and wide-open spaces. And then the world stopped.
Like so many other plans, our trip to Peru was put on hold. Disappointment was followed by a more concrete reality: paperwork, endless back-and-forth, and battles to recover some of the costs we’d already paid.
The years went by. Life moved on, with its shifting priorities and unexpected twists. Rescheduling this trip wasn’t possible until 2025.
The itinerary stayed mostly true to what we’d imagined five years earlier. One major difference, though—in 2020, we’d planned to rent a car and explore the roads completely independently. Most importantly, we hadn’t included the three-day Ausangate trek, due to lack of time.
For 2025, our plans evolved. 4x4 rental prices had skyrocketed, and when we looked at our schedule more closely, we realized quite a few days didn’t actually need a vehicle. So we made a different choice and opted for private drivers instead. A decision we never regretted. Always punctual, thoughtful, and available... they were so much more than just drivers.
All our reservations were made in January, except for the trek, which we booked in February.
Finding reliable drivers on our own was tough, so we asked Laurent from Tout Pérou to handle it for us. Going through Tout Pérou also gave us a discount on the train ride to Aguas Calientes, so Laurent booked those tickets too. He also bought our Machu Picchu entrance tickets at the same price we would’ve paid on the official website. When comparing domestic flight prices, we found it was cheaper to book from Peru, so Laurent took care of those as well.
This time, nothing was going to stop us. Peru was waiting. And we were ready. 🙂
Trip to Thailand and Laos
Hello! 🙂
January 2026 Here we go again for new adventures and the pleasure of sharing them with you here! First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me with the preparations, even with some last-minute improvisations just days before departure. Thanks to Montagnard74, Jojoone1, Songsam, Attila, Dennis2, NadegerFERM, and the authors whose travel journals about Laos inspired me (Montagnard74, Muriel18, Mavietongs...).
In this story, written by Richard and illustrated by me, we’ll tell you about the journey of four friends: Catherine, Richard, Nathalie, and Bruno. A reinvented but overall successful trip, filled with discoveries and surprises, the scents of spices and frangipani flowers, (too) spicy food, sunsets, and... one big mess.
January 2026 Here we go again for new adventures and the pleasure of sharing them with you here! First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me with the preparations, even with some last-minute improvisations just days before departure. Thanks to Montagnard74, Jojoone1, Songsam, Attila, Dennis2, NadegerFERM, and the authors whose travel journals about Laos inspired me (Montagnard74, Muriel18, Mavietongs...).
In this story, written by Richard and illustrated by me, we’ll tell you about the journey of four friends: Catherine, Richard, Nathalie, and Bruno. A reinvented but overall successful trip, filled with discoveries and surprises, the scents of spices and frangipani flowers, (too) spicy food, sunsets, and... one big mess.

CAPE VERDE 2025: 3 weeks, 4 islands.
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
It starts here:
https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=10790234;a=10790234

I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
It starts here:
https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=10790234;a=10790234

Hitchhiking in the 70s-80s

“Hey, your Marker... - My Marker? - The one you used to make hitchhiking signs.”
The marker in question is sitting proudly on the kitchen table. Marielle found it at the bottom of a moving box.
I’ve been meaning to tell the long story of my love affair with hitchhiking for years. Here we go.
To be honest, I’m not quite sure when it started. My earliest memory goes back to a fair with a bike race in my maternal grandparents’ village. I was with my cousin, my little sister, and three girl cousins. There were six of us, ages ranging from six or seven to thirteen or fourteen. Our parents stayed at the fair, and we’d had enough. So we decided to walk home. Only it was four kilometers away. So we hitchhiked. A guy driving an old car picked us all up and dropped us off at the farm. He probably found it amusing to see us thumbing a ride by the side of the road, but maybe it also worried him a bit. With everything you read in the papers...
Around fifteen or sixteen, I started hitchhiking regularly, alone or with a friend, to go to the nearby town. But it was especially when I started boarding school in Orléans that it became more regular. The first year, I’d leave Monday morning and come back Saturday noon by bus. It was an old, uncomfortable bus where we froze in winter. To make matters worse, I often got motion sickness if, as was too often the case, I ended up sitting in the back. In the spring, a high school friend suggested I hitchhike back. It meant a slight detour, but the advantage was taking only national roads.
So that’s how, from the end of tenth grade to twelfth grade, I’d thumb a ride every Saturday on the Pont de Bourgogne. Drivers were used to seeing young people hitchhiking, and it worked pretty well. Our biggest fear? Soldiers! At that time, military service was still mandatory, and on weekends, it wasn’t rare to see them competing with us. They’d keep their uniforms on to go home. That gave people confidence—with everything you read in the papers—and they’d rarely wait more than five minutes. We, with our long hair, were definitely less popular. From time to time, three big red-faced guys in a van coming back from a construction site would flip us off, yelling things like “go get a haircut, you bums!” Those were the good old days.
We still had a good laugh, though. Patrice, the friend I’d hitchhike back from school with on Saturdays, is a musician—I’d later discover he’s an excellent composer. A die-hard Beatles fan, he knows their repertoire by heart and spends his time singing at the top of his lungs while we thumb a ride. One Saturday late morning, we’d been waiting for a while at the exit of Châteauneuf-sur-Loire when a little lady came up to him and asked if he could please sing a little quieter: a baby was sleeping in the house. He put on the most sorry face: “Oh, sorry ma’am, we didn’t realize.” No sooner had the lady gone back inside than he started again. Luckily, a car stopped just then, sparing me the embarrassment of seeing the lady come back out.
Saturday was also the day when the cigarette pack was dangerously low. So before leaving, we’d go buy some “Parisiennes,” the “P4s” as we called them back then. They were slightly thinner cigarettes with a mix of tobacco scraps. Sometimes they tasted like light tobacco, sometimes like dark. Not great, but by the end of the week, our pocket money was gone. They were sold in small packs of four, hence the name P4. We’d only pay 20 centimes. On Saturdays, it was rare for the two of us to manage to scrape together 1.50 F to buy a whole pack of Gauloises...
The last twenty kilometers, I’d usually do alone, Patrice having reached his destination. From time to time, luck would smile on me: an acquaintance would just happen to pass by and stop. One January Saturday, at the exit of Gien, I ran into another guy from Argenton whom I knew a little. That day, the weather was nice, but the temperature was well below zero. It was around noon, and it was the off-peak hour. We were shivering, stamping our feet by the side of the road, when a Citroën “Tube” arrived: it was his father’s boss’s, a mason. They were both sitting in the front, but since they were obese, they had us climb onto the open back. Even though we huddled against the cab to shelter from the wind, the twenty kilometers felt very long, especially since we were only going sixty kilometers an hour. Our hands and cheeks were blue when we finally arrived.
The year I took my baccalaureate, a friend with a 2CV would take me Monday mornings with one or two others we’d pick up in nearby villages. We’d share the gas costs, but it was still cheaper than the bus. And in winter, the bus was my nightmare. You had to get up at five to catch it at six. Not enough sleep, and outside it was freezing or raining—or both. The 2CV was luxury. Plus, Philippe would pick me up at home. On the other hand, since I didn’t have class Saturday mornings—well, I did, but we only had PE the first two hours and nothing after—I’d skip class and slip out right after breakfast to thumb a ride at the Pont de Bourgogne.
Those three high school years were formative in this optional subject that was hitchhiking. Little by little, I learned the rules of the game. First, you shouldn’t walk along the road while thumbing. Cars go too fast and can’t stop easily. Accepting a ride that’s too short is also a no-go. The guy who offers to take you a little way but drops you off at some vague crossroads in the middle of nowhere? No thanks. You need to get dropped off in a town. If it’s a fairly big city, you often have to cross it from one end to the other, but it’s better. At the exit, you have to choose your spot well. Actually, you have to put yourself in the driver’s shoes: they need to see you early enough, not be going too fast, and be able to stop easily without risking an accident. So when leaving a city, it’s better not to go too far. It’s wiser to find a spot where cars go slowly and can stop easily. And preferably near a café. The café is for when you still have a few coins for a coffee and need to warm up. From time to time, you’d run into someone nice who’d make a detour to drop you off at a better spot to start again. Finally, if possible, avoid hitchhiking on Sundays. Cars are packed with whole families who, most of the time, aren’t going far. And then there’s the little worry of those people who rarely leave home: with everything you read in the papers...
During those high school years, it was only short trips, rarely exceeding a hundred kilometers. Later, I aimed bigger, and things were a bit different. In 1973-74, I crossed part of France for the first time on two or three occasions, coming back from the German border or returning to Bordeaux, where we lived briefly. Since there weren’t many highways back then, we took national roads. It was during these trips that I realized it was better to leave in the evening. As I said earlier, Sunday is to be avoided, but on weekdays, there’s another problem: if you leave in the morning, you only make short hops. First, it often takes longer to get going because drivers are people going to work nearby. Which brings us back to those who drop you off in a bad spot, far from everything. There, you have to know how to refuse. You thank the driver for stopping—oh, if only everyone could be like you—while explaining why you’d rather stay put. People don’t take offense, by the way. Those who pick up hitchhikers often hitchhiked themselves when they were in the military or before they had a car. In the late afternoon, you’d often run into salespeople or truckers, in other words, people who drive a lot. At that time, salespeople no longer had appointments and were more relaxed. They wanted to talk about something other than the merits of their products. On the radio, it was time for *Les Grosses Têtes*. You’d also quite often run into small business owners, professionals, or even hippies. The conversations were pleasant and often enriching. A little later in the evening, truckers would take over. They’d already driven a few hundred kilometers, and the depot or customs was still far away. So they’d gladly take a hitchhiker to stay awake at the wheel and chat. The radio with Max Ménier’s show *Les routiers sont sympas*, you’d eventually get tired of it. So a hitchhiker was a change. Others, who’d hit the road at midnight to be at their destination by morning, were nice and offered to let you lie down on the bunk while they drove. When you’d been hitchhiking since six in the evening, freezing in the wind between two vehicles, you weren’t unhappy to take a little nap.
Speaking of Max Ménier, he’d often make announcements for hitchhikers. One evening, I called him. It was getting late, and I still had quite a way to go. No luck: the show had ended for good the day before!
In short, it’s better not to rush, sleep in, and leave after lunch, or better yet, in the late afternoon. Obviously, I’m talking about when you have several hundred kilometers to cover. That’s when you have to play it pro.
First thing, especially at night, but it also applies in the middle of summer when the light is blinding: dress to be seen from far away. I’ll admit I have an advantage over most other hitchhikers: I’m small and don’t scare people. To balance that out, racist drivers often take me for an Arab and are less likely to pick me up, but overall, the balance tips in my favor. Back to the need to be seen: at night, I wear light-colored clothes. In headlights, you can see me from far away.
Second thing: travel light. Forget the big backpack with a frame. Drivers don’t always have room in the trunk or on the back seat, especially if it’s rained and the ground is wet. Plus, it forces them to get out of the car. If they’re nice enough to pick up a hitchhiker, you shouldn’t ask for too much either.
Third thing: bring a cardboard sign and a big marker—like the ones in the photo at the start of this post—to write the name of your destination. In the early 80s, I ran a tourist house in the Cher, but I lived in the Netherlands. In the off-season, it was only open on weekends. On Fridays, I’d leave Holland and return on Mondays. 1200 km round trip. On the way there, in Paris, I’d stand at Porte de la Chapelle. At that spot, the road is very wide, and drivers could stop easily. Obviously, on the sign, I didn’t write Eindhoven, which not everyone knows, and even less Amsterdam because of its seedy reputation. In that case, you’d expect to see a police car stop and two officers in kepis ask for your papers. So as a first destination, I’d write Compiègne. We were well out of Paris, and since it wasn’t too far, a trucker or salesperson was less reluctant to stop. Once past Compiègne, I’d take out my Lille sign. Once in Belgium, it wasn’t really necessary to use a sign anymore, since everyone was going in the same direction. Usually, the guy who picked me up at Porte de la Chapelle would say he wasn’t going far but could take me a little way. Before that, I’d still ask if there was a gas station on the highway where he could drop me off before exiting. While talking, the guy would realize he wasn’t dealing with a dangerous criminal. He’d pretend to check his watch, think for a moment, then say that actually, he was going to Belgium and could take me to the border or a little beyond. To leave Paris on the way back, I’d take the train to Melun, where it was easier to hitchhike than at Porte d’Italie.
Over all those years, I think I was pretty lucky. Or maybe philosophical enough not to imagine a car would stop after a few minutes. An hour’s wait was average. Sure, I sometimes waited three, four, or five hours. Most often at odd hours and in terrible weather. When it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But there’s always a moment when things pick up. Sure, when you’re soaked in freezing rain in the early morning after a sleepless night, you’re less philosophical than when I’m writing these lines comfortably at my computer, but it still holds true.
Earlier, I mentioned clothing and the importance of being well-rested before leaving. When you’ve eaten well and just gotten out of the shower, shaved, you’re in a better mood. And somehow, drivers sense it. Or at least, that’s the impression I’ve always had. It’s better to look in shape than disgusted at standing there, half-heartedly thumbing a ride. In short, when I’d start to get fed up with waiting, I’d go into the first café I saw for a coffee. Coming back out, I’d be refreshed, and most of the time, a car would stop within minutes. I’ve often said that when I stood by the side of the road thumbing a ride, I felt a bit like a gambler in front of a slot machine. It was a matter of giving luck a chance. And well, it worked out pretty well.
Then, there are countries where hitchhiking works really well and others where it’s harder. In the 70s-80s, it worked best in Germany and England. In the late afternoon, it wasn’t rare to be invited for tea. Well, that was in England. Tea meant being offered room and board. In Germany, they’d offer you coffee. Once there, they’d first show you the guest room and point out the bathroom before sitting you down in front of a big plate of cold cuts. In the evening, they’d go out in town, and the next morning, they’d usually drop you off at a good spot for hitchhiking. On the other hand, in Mediterranean and Scandinavian countries, you’d better be patient. In Spain or Italy, it’s better to take the train, which was dirt cheap back then. However, if you’re a couple traveling light, it’s already easier in most countries.
In 1982, I went on a trip around Turkey with my girlfriend. We only had two small bags, which was plenty. It was November-December, and we wore our warm, bulky clothes. Leaving Eindhoven at nine in the morning, we arrived in Graz, near the Yugoslav border, at eleven at night. 1300 km in a day! In just four or five vehicles. One to the German border, about fifty kilometers from Eindhoven, the second to Hagen in the Ruhr, the third to Salzburg, and the last to Graz at the Yugoslav border. Record broken. During the night crossing of Yugoslavia, we ran into a trucker close to retirement who lent us the truck’s bunk. So we arrived fresh and rested near Skopje the next morning. We continued to Thessaloniki in northern Greece before taking the train to Istanbul. In Turkey, we traveled a good part of the country by hitchhiking too. With truckers in old, overloaded, slow trucks that climbed hills at fifteen kilometers an hour, but also in cars where five or six people were already crammed in. And every time, we were invited for tea. Once, we were even picked up by a big shot in his Mercedes with a chauffeur. Until then, the average speed was around fifty kilometers an hour. There, we were going two hundred. On a national road, not a nice European highway.
I’ve also hitchhiked in Nepal, from Lumbini, Buddha’s birthplace, to a village on the way to Pokhara. It must have been midday. No bus until the next day. I gave it a try. A small truck overloaded with rice sacks, with two or three young people already perched on top, stopped. I rode on the roof of the cab. At fifty kilometers an hour when it was going well, with a breathtaking view. Coming back from India, I also crossed part of Iran by hitchhiking, from Tehran to the Turkish border. I did this trip with an Austrian I met at the hotel who, like me, had to watch his pennies. We gave it a shot. There was almost no traffic, but to our great surprise, the first car that passed in the area would always stop. They’d just ask for a modest contribution for gas, and it cost next to nothing.
Sometimes, you get scared too. After leaving Turkey in early December 82, we spent about two weeks in the southern Peloponnese harvesting olives. A few days before Christmas, we hitchhiked back to Holland. A girl picked us up in her little Fiat 500. We were driving on a mountain road, and that morning there was a bit of black ice. After crossing a pass, we saw the old Ford Taunus ahead of us at fifty meters start to skid. The driver let out a “heeee!” while grabbing my knees. I reflexively grabbed the wheel. Finally, the Taunus got back on track. And we didn’t swerve. But those few seconds felt very long.
In January 77, while I’d been living in Germany for a few months, I decided to spend a few days in Italy. By hitchhiking, of course. I left in the early afternoon, and by ten at night, I wasn’t far from Frankfurt. I saw a big Mercedes stop. The four or five young people crammed inside were listening to Schlager at full volume. Beer cans littered the floor. They didn’t have a precise destination, and as long as they were going south, that was fine with me. They’d finished their military service that very day and had clearly already celebrated their discharge. The driver was going 160, zigzagging dangerously from one side of the highway to the other. I should have realized he wasn’t entirely sober either. Luckily, there was almost no traffic. Finally, I managed to get dropped off at a gas station just before Frankfurt, relieved. I hope their trip didn’t end tragically.
Another time, coming back from Holland with my wife, we were picked up early in the morning near Senlis by two guys from Lille. They were going to work near Tours and could drop us off at Porte d’Italie. Apparently, they were coworkers but barely knew each other. The driver offered us a beer—at six in the morning, sure!—before opening another can for himself. He was clearly having trouble staying in the right lane. We politely declined, the passenger too. Everyone was tense. Luckily, it was rush hour on the ring road, and we were going slowly. When we got out of the car, the passenger said goodbye with the look of a guy being offered the condemned man’s rum and cigarette.
Finally, there are the annoying remarks from drivers who are either gay when you’re alone or turned on by the sight of your girlfriend when you’re a couple. In those cases, I’d get in the back so the guy wouldn’t feel too confident. And if the conversation got a little too suggestive, we’d deflect until we got dropped off.
And luckily, there are the times, not so rare after all, when you run into really nice people who invite you to eat and sleep at their place and drive you to a good spot the next morning. In Germany and England, that was common. And then there are the big strokes of luck, like during our trip to Turkey when we crossed most of Germany in one car, or that other time when some Germans drove me from the exit of Geneva all the way to the Costa Brava.
Going back to “with everything you read in the papers” and its variant “with everything you see on TV”—and now on the internet—it’s always left me perplexed. Personally, I’ve never heard of hitchhikers assaulting drivers, even if it may have happened. On the other hand, what was most common were hitchhikers being assaulted, especially girls. Anyway, even armed, it seems a bit stupid to assault the driver—wouldn’t that risk causing an accident?
Finally, since that time, I’ve occasionally wanted to hitchhike somewhere far away in France. Most often, too busy with work, it never happened, but the nostalgia hasn’t completely disappeared.
* * *
Other Hitchhikers
And then one day, I... settled down to become a driver myself. Ten years had passed, and you saw fewer and fewer hitchhikers. Or maybe I saw fewer because I had a regular job and wasn’t traveling the same way. And then I understood a few things.
Several times, I was tempted to pick up a hitchhiker, but they didn’t meet the required conditions. They were walking along the road instead of staying at the exit of the previous town. Hard to stop without risking an accident. Or the guy looked really scruffy. Or he was sulking, if not both. Then you think of that famous “with everything you read in the papers.” Not that I was scared, but unfortunately, the few hitchhikers I did pick up later were rarely interesting.
A few years ago, we picked up a young guy at the exit of a small town in Sologne. Not an easy spot for hitchhiking. Bad luck, he was a pretentious little jerk. He was barely 20 or 25 and talked like a bitter old man. He was a waiter in a restaurant. According to him, it was lucky he was there, otherwise the boss would have closed up shop long ago. You’d think he had thirty or forty years of professional experience behind him. As we approached Blois, he started ranting about Arabs, blaming them for all evils. And he laid it on thick. That morning, we were going to a teenager’s funeral who had just committed suicide, so he really got on our nerves, Mr. Know-It-All. Out of anger, I dropped him off next to a shopping center a few kilometers from downtown. Not nice, but it felt good.
Some time ago, we were driving around the Limousin on a Sunday to try out the used Twingo we’d just bought. We picked up a guy in his forties. A German who spoke French well. He started talking about the environment. He was a green Khmer. He got worked up all by himself with his pseudo-eco rant and, after a few kilometers, was almost yelling at us. As we were about to leave the main road for a small one, I dropped him off at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. Normally, I would have made a little detour to take him to a better spot, but this time, I didn’t feel like doing the... eco-warrior a favor.
On the other hand, I’ve still done my good deed a few times. One June morning, coming back from Orléans, I saw a man in his sixties hitchhiking. The poor guy had had a rough time. He was from Montpellier and was coming back from Caen, where he’d been promised a job. Once there, they bluntly told him the position was already taken, and he had to go back. Except he didn’t have enough money left for the train. He’d spent the night hitchhiking without success. I could only take him as far as Lamotte-Beuvron, where I dropped him off near the fire station. Apparently, there was some vague shelter there or something, but it only opened a few hours later. In the meantime, he settled on the grass in a corner to sleep a little. While he was doing that, I quickly went to the train station to check the price of a ticket to Montpellier. It was within my means. Since he was sound asleep, I slipped the train ticket and 100 francs into his pocket. I couldn’t imagine him continuing to hitchhike all the way to Montpellier. And I bet he didn’t even have a piece of cardboard and a marker!
When we go to Brazil, we usually rent a small car. One day, we were coming back from Paracuru to Fortaleza when we saw a whole family hitchhiking. Two adults and two or three small children. Here near the equator, the sun sets very quickly, and it would soon be night. There was little traffic, and trucks wouldn’t stop because there was no room in the cab. As for the rich people driving big 4x4s, they wouldn’t stoop to picking up the lower classes. The only hope for this kind of family was usually a farmer or artisan who’d let them ride in the back of his pickup. Obviously, they were a bit surprised to see us. Everyone crammed in as best they could in the back of our little car. When we dropped them off, we got a whole string of “Deus lhes abençõe”—God bless you.
Still in Brazil, we were on the road from Barreirinhas to São Luís do Maranhão. About 150 km of deserted road with an isolated mud house here and there. A young woman flagged us down. She was very pregnant and had to get to the clinic twenty or thirty kilometers away to give birth. Someone was supposed to drive her, but the first signs of labor started earlier than expected, and the driver was unavailable. Even driving fast, we weren’t feeling great: it would be just our luck if she gave birth in the car!
Today, we’re in the age of smartphones and carpooling apps. Safety. With everything you see on TV... Three or four years ago, we signed up on a platform. Our first, and only, “client” was a little jerk who didn’t say a word the whole trip. No hello, no goodbye, and certainly no thank you. The next day, we found his Ray-Bans in the car. We didn’t run after him to give them back. Ha!
Yet Another Travel Journal in this (Too) Familiar Rajasthan, But with Family and Kids
Prologue
This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…
A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.
And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.
Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.
As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.
Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.
This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…
A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.
And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.
Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.
As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.
Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.
EasyJet in Nice: Fight Over Refusal to Pay Baggage Fee
The couple involved refused to pay the extra fee demanded by the flight coordination company. Things quickly escalated. It got so bad that the man ended up physically fighting with an airport agent, even rolling on the ground.
https://www.nicematin.com/faits-divers/il-refuse-de-payer-un-supplement-bagages-le-litige-se-termine-en-bagarre-a-l-aeroport-de-nice-999711
If you can’t afford to pay for your luggage, don’t travel 😡. What’s next? Are they gonna hit the tour guide in Mykonos because the price of the tour went up without warning 🤪?
A heads-up to all EasyJet travelers: baggage checks are more strict than ever!
https://www.nicematin.com/faits-divers/il-refuse-de-payer-un-supplement-bagages-le-litige-se-termine-en-bagarre-a-l-aeroport-de-nice-999711
If you can’t afford to pay for your luggage, don’t travel 😡. What’s next? Are they gonna hit the tour guide in Mykonos because the price of the tour went up without warning 🤪?
A heads-up to all EasyJet travelers: baggage checks are more strict than ever!
Discovering Assam and Nagaland 2025
Before I begin, I’d like to thank Michèle Buisson and her "Misha’s travel journals," which really helped me plan this trip. It’s tough to find information about this part of India, which is quite different from the "more traditional India." I’m so grateful to her for introducing me to a family who hosted me for 4 nights and 3 days. I can’t wait to return the favor and welcome you all to my place in early July!
Thursday, March 20th. The alarm goes off super early, but I’m already awake—I was too worried I’d sleep through it. I leave the house at 4:00 AM. The rain has stopped, and at this hour, there aren’t many trucks on the road. I arrive at Barcelona Airport easily by 6:20 AM, let the valet know I’m there, and he quickly picks up my car. This time, I’m flying with Etihad Airways again. I booked the ticket during my trip to Cambodia: Barcelona/Kolkata, Delhi/Barcelona for 567 €. At that price, I didn’t hesitate for long—I knew I had to take it. And I’m glad I did because, by the time I returned, the price had gone up to 700 €. I can already hear the reactions: "Wow, how’d you get a ticket for that price? What site did you use? You’re amazing, MarieJo!" One thing’s for sure—I’m really happy with this deal. The flights from Barcelona to Abu Dhabi and Abu Dhabi to Kolkata go smoothly, and we arrive on time at 2:55 AM. There aren’t many people at immigration, so I get through quickly. My luggage isn’t on the carousel yet. After collecting my bag, I check in for my next flight with IndiGo, a 5:40 AM flight to Guwahati, arriving at 7:00 AM. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, so I take a taxi from the airport to Gruham Sojourn Homestay. The house is upstairs, and the neighborhood seems quiet, with restaurants lining the street. The room won’t be ready until 10:00 AM, so I rest on the bench in the meantime. Once in the room, I take a shower—it really helps me feel refreshed. I need to exchange some euros, so I look up a nearby exchange bureau on Google and head out to find it. I locate it easily, and the staff are super friendly. I get a great rate (1 € = 90 INR). I wander around the neighborhood. The train station isn’t far, and small markets line the streets. I head back to my area, walking along the main avenue. About 500 meters from my street, I discover a museum. The visit is fascinating—I see the famous Majuli masks, among other things.

I’m not far from the Brahmaputra River, and the temptation to visit is too strong to resist. I’d hoped to find a promenade along the river, but that doesn’t exist here. I walk back calmly and notice several restaurants in my street. On the doorstep of my accommodation, I spot a pastry shop with cakes that look more like the ones we have in France than the typical ones here in India. A visit is a must, and I’m not disappointed!

Tonight, I’m dining at a restaurant in the street. The menu is a bit disappointing—burgers, pizzas, pasta—nothing very Indian. So, I’ll go with tomato pasta.
Thursday, March 20th. The alarm goes off super early, but I’m already awake—I was too worried I’d sleep through it. I leave the house at 4:00 AM. The rain has stopped, and at this hour, there aren’t many trucks on the road. I arrive at Barcelona Airport easily by 6:20 AM, let the valet know I’m there, and he quickly picks up my car. This time, I’m flying with Etihad Airways again. I booked the ticket during my trip to Cambodia: Barcelona/Kolkata, Delhi/Barcelona for 567 €. At that price, I didn’t hesitate for long—I knew I had to take it. And I’m glad I did because, by the time I returned, the price had gone up to 700 €. I can already hear the reactions: "Wow, how’d you get a ticket for that price? What site did you use? You’re amazing, MarieJo!" One thing’s for sure—I’m really happy with this deal. The flights from Barcelona to Abu Dhabi and Abu Dhabi to Kolkata go smoothly, and we arrive on time at 2:55 AM. There aren’t many people at immigration, so I get through quickly. My luggage isn’t on the carousel yet. After collecting my bag, I check in for my next flight with IndiGo, a 5:40 AM flight to Guwahati, arriving at 7:00 AM. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, so I take a taxi from the airport to Gruham Sojourn Homestay. The house is upstairs, and the neighborhood seems quiet, with restaurants lining the street. The room won’t be ready until 10:00 AM, so I rest on the bench in the meantime. Once in the room, I take a shower—it really helps me feel refreshed. I need to exchange some euros, so I look up a nearby exchange bureau on Google and head out to find it. I locate it easily, and the staff are super friendly. I get a great rate (1 € = 90 INR). I wander around the neighborhood. The train station isn’t far, and small markets line the streets. I head back to my area, walking along the main avenue. About 500 meters from my street, I discover a museum. The visit is fascinating—I see the famous Majuli masks, among other things.


I’m not far from the Brahmaputra River, and the temptation to visit is too strong to resist. I’d hoped to find a promenade along the river, but that doesn’t exist here. I walk back calmly and notice several restaurants in my street. On the doorstep of my accommodation, I spot a pastry shop with cakes that look more like the ones we have in France than the typical ones here in India. A visit is a must, and I’m not disappointed!

Tonight, I’m dining at a restaurant in the street. The menu is a bit disappointing—burgers, pizzas, pasta—nothing very Indian. So, I’ll go with tomato pasta.










