Results for "Morteau+|+127"

Bonjour

Je suis partie cet été en République Dominicaine et je recherche une chanson que j'ai vraiment adoré là bas : c'était sur un rythme un peu rap reggae avec des paroles comme " wazza wazza" ( je ne sais pas comment cela s'écrit).

et les paroles sont en espagnol.

merci

j'espère que vous pourrez m'aider

à bientot

si vous connaissez des musiques connus là bas vous pouvez aussi me les donnez.

SVP

Julie

Salut tout le monde! voilà, en fait je rêve de partir en inde depuis longtemps et bientôt j'aurai enfin 18 ans et je pourrai partir seule. Je voudrais savoir si il y a des dangers pour les filles étrangères seules en Inde. Et deuxième problème : j'ai la phobie des araignées! et j'ai entendu à plusieurs reprises qu'on en trouvait des énormes là-bas. Si vous y êtes déjà allées ou que vous connaissez quelque chose à ce sujet, n'hésitez pas à me répondre! Merci d'avance.

Julie

Pourriez-vous me parler un peu du Yemen...Les faits marquants quand on y débarque pour la première fois, la bouffe, les gens...et surtout les incidents qui peuvent nous arriver.

Merci

Fatima

Désormais le Tibet est ouvert aux individuels. Il n'est plus nécessaire de passer par une agence et de faire partie d'un groupe d'au moins 5 personnes

Hey everyone! New to the forum, but not so new to Asia 😄 I’m Nico, from Switzerland, currently based in Bangkok. I love taking my motorcycle out to get lost in the mountains and small villages of Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and more. I’ve been roaming around this area for a good fifteen years now, racking up quite a few kilometers—especially in northern Vietnam. This time, I finally decided to tackle the Mae Hong Son Loop, clockwise. I’d been to Pai several times before, but oddly enough, I’d never done the full loop. So, I’ll try to give you a little recap here, day by day, with the roads, stops, places worth checking out… and those that didn’t quite blow my mind 😅 I also filmed the trip, so I’ll post the corresponding video at the end of each day if that’s okay. If it’s not allowed here, just let me know, and I’ll remove them without any issue. DAY 1 — Chiang Mai → Doi Inthanon → Mae Chaem → Khun Yuam I left Chiang Mai after renting a Honda ADV 160 from Pop Motorbike. Not exactly an Africa Twin, but for what I had planned, it was more than enough. Quick hotel note: I stayed at the Lanna Thaphae Hotel before leaving. Around 30 € per night, super well-located, and probably one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. A crucial detail for any motorcycle road trip, obviously. The plan for the day was pretty straightforward: Head toward Doi Inthanon… and see what happens. Flawless Swiss organization. First stop along the way at Wachirathan Waterfall. A really nice waterfall, very easy to access, but don’t expect to channel your inner Indiana Jones—it’s crowded, touristy, and swimming isn’t allowed. Still, it’s a pretty stop along the way. Next, up to Doi Inthanon. The road climbs steeply, and my little 160cc started to realize that carrying my 80 kg to Thailand’s highest point probably wasn’t part of its youthful dreams. I was maxing out at 34 km/h in some spots. But it made it. Good little bike. The summit is nice—the forest is beautiful, and it’s cool—but I have to admit, it didn’t completely wow me. Glad I went, but not necessarily the highlight of the day for me. Because then comes Route 1192. And that’s *much* more my thing: small mountain roads, beautiful scenery, hardly any traffic… the kind of road where I usually start taking way too many unnecessary detours just because a little side road “looks fun.” Stopped in Mae Chaem for a bite to eat, then headed to Khun Yuam to finish the day. A little over 200 km in total. Khun Yuam is… quiet. *Very* quiet. 😅 A cute little market, a couple of cafés/restaurants, and zero chance of ending up in a club until 4 AM. But after a day on the bike, it was perfect. Stayed at the Mit Khun Yuam Hotel, around 20 € for a small but very decent room. All in all, a solid first day and a pretty relaxed start to the loop. Part of this leg is mostly about getting out of Chiang Mai and really diving into the mountains, in my opinion. Because for me, the really interesting stuff starts over the next two days… And a few slightly questionable route decisions will also make an appearance 😅 If anyone’s planning the Mae Hong Son Loop, feel free to ask your questions—I’d be happy to answer! I also filmed this first day, so for those who’d rather see the roads and landscapes than read my rambling, here’s Day 1 😊 DAY 1 VIDEO I’ll post the next part in the coming days with Day 2: Khun Yuam → Mae Surin → Mae Hong Son. And that’s where it starts getting *really* fun. 😉 That’s all for now! Looking forward to contributing as much as I can to the forum!

Autumn 2025 marks my 11th trip to Japan. I’ve neglected the south for too long, so like last year, it’s my main destination again.

We’ll revisit some familiar spots, but of course, we’ll also try plenty of new things. This trip feels a bit strange—no more of that initial magic, but on the other hand, we’ve really explored some off-the-beaten-path and private locations. The variety of regions, landscapes, and vehicles I’ve photographed is pretty remarkable. In search of vintage trains and threatened lines, I think my future trips will follow the same vibe.

After the 2017 and 2024 travel journals, it’s time to dive into Japan’s lesser-known side—all by public transport, of course. Day 1, arrival in Tokyo

The timing won’t be like other years since we arrive at Narita in the mid-afternoon after a layover in Hong Kong.

The only real mission for this afternoon is picking up tickets for the next day. And already, the first travel stress: I’ll have to rewrite the entire day because the Revaty Kinu 109 to Kinugawaonsen is fully booked, just like all the morning trains. So instead of a relaxed start exploring Ueno, I’m back to scrutinizing schedules. I manage to snag something last-minute after struggling for hours. Then, I wait for a message from Seiichi to meet up for dinner. Meeting friends on the first day and staying up late with jet lag—like I said, this trip isn’t like the others.

A great evening at a place I love.

Day 1 – February 14

We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...

But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.

"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?

This is where we chat.

Hello! The itinerary is pretty much set for August 2026. Yeah, I know it’s gonna be *super* hot. But it’s the only time we can get away.

So, here’s the plan: Montpellier-CDG-Dallas.

Stay from July 31 to August 26, 2026: Car rental – check, Hotels – check, Itinerary – almost check, Photo gear – check, Budget – check, 🤪 Meal planning – meh, we’ll see... Walmart, of course, for the cooler when we arrive.

And now, without too much detail...

Fort Worth: The Longhorns and the Stockyards; JR’s ranch (for the missus); Medal of Honor Museum – Arlington.

Houston and NASA Space Center: See the Gulf of Mexico/America.

San Antonio and the missions.

Fort Stockton for an overnight stop.

El Paso via Guadalupe Mountains: El Paso and White Sands.

Tucson and the Pima Air & Space Museum: Tombstone, Bisbee.

Phoenix:

Still working on the program.

Sedona: Round trip around the area via Flagstaff and Williams, or the Grand Canyon (already done) – we’ll decide on the spot.

Albuquerque: Santa Fe, Turquoise Trail, Los Alamos.

Amarillo via Route 66: Old Route 66 in the city; Big Texas Ranch Steak 😏.

Dallas: JFK Museum; Perot Museum; West End district.

And through it all – the road, the road, and more road!!!

We’ll adapt day by day based on our mental and physical state (we’re not exactly spring chickens).

Return to France: Dallas-Montpellier via CDG.

Cheers!

If you’ve already posted your three photos in the contest thread Staircases: May 2026 Photo Contest Theme and a fourth one comes to mind, you can ease your staircase obsession here.

A few examples of staircases:



Some of the 6,600 steps on the staircase leading to the summit of Jade Emperor Peak at 1,545 meters.



Emergency staircase at the Orléans library (France).



Brussels street artist Créons incorporates the staircase into the dress design of his character.



The staircase is part of the roof of Villa Malaparte (Adalberto Libera) on the island of Capri (Italy).

15 days across Gran Canaria, El Hierro, and a dash of Tenerife under the storm Thérèse!

The planned itinerary will be slightly disrupted...

(The version without discussions is here)

Day 1 – December 6

Our decision is our decision. And it’s firm and final. Next winter, our plane will spread its great wings toward the island of Ceylon! "Wait a minute... Ceylon... Ceylon... that name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it on the globe Grandma gave me for Christmas! Ceylon... Oh right, I’ve got it: Ceylon is the name of my tea!" Exactly. But the name on your pretty tea box is also the one used until 1972 for this island nation, a speck on the Indian Ocean at the southern tip of the Indian subcontinent: Sri Lanka!

For this new adventure, I’m exceptionally leaving my Flo behind, cowardly replaced by a double dose of testosterone. To write the book of this journey with me, I’m bringing along my brother, who’s used to this kind of thing, and... a guest star: My model of resilience. My dad! All aboard! Or rather, all aboard our tuk-tuk! Yes, you read that right: A real tuk-tuk, a little colorful rolling box that putters along at two miles an hour. The idea? Well, Sri Lanka and its winding roads overlooking the vastness of lush nature are tailor-made for this kind of vehicle. And since it’s one of only two countries in the world that allow foreigners to rent and drive these mini speedsters, we’ll be crisscrossing the island in our two-square-meter rolling box. Plus, adopting this mode of transport is a surefire way to connect directly with the locals, who’ll surely be curious to see a foreigner driving their iconic vehicle. Not to mention the... let’s say... spicy anecdotes it might generate. I mean, heading into a subtropical zone with my jet-black dad and his unpredictable digestive flora while deliberately choosing the tuk-tuk as our *only* means of transport? That’s the winning combo for an unforgettable adventure! "More seriously, Dad, Sullivan, I’m already loving the idea of living this adventure together, the three of us—brothers and father..."

So, does the intro to this new adventure get your salivary glands going? Yes? Too bad. Because unfortunately, the program handed out by the lady at the entrance has been slightly... let’s say *crumpled*. Some might even say "scrunched up and nearly tossed in the trash." First, six days ago, as the countdown echoed in us like a call to adventure, Cyclone Ditwah grabbed Sri Lanka, played with it like a rag doll, and left it battered on the ground. The toll is devastating: over a thousand dead, thousands of homes wiped out by relentless rains, roads and railways swallowed by massive mudslides. A country wounded once again, after the civil war, the 2004 tsunami, and the post-Covid economic crisis.

But as if this weather disaster wasn’t enough to shake our unbreakable adventurer spirit, fate decided to mess with us further by cutting our trio down to two. The victim? My brother, violently turned away because of a simple date on his passport that didn’t match the border officials’ expectations. Return to sender!

So now it’s just the two of us allowed to board the Qatar Airways Airbus A380 for this trip. If he were here, Denis Brognart would say, "And in the end, only one remains!" Except I know you’ll be with us, following our adventures! Right?

Hi! Sri Lanka has announced it could run out of fuel in the coming weeks if the Strait of Hormuz remains blocked. The government has implemented a mandatory four-day workweek to save oil, and there are long lines at gas stations due to fears of an early shortage. In Vietnam, the government has warned all airlines that flights will need to be reduced due to a lack of kerosene. The country imports two-thirds of its jet fuel from China and Thailand, but both countries have now banned exports out of fear of domestic shortages. The state is asking airlines to plan ahead and park aircraft to drastically reduce operations, starting with domestic flights and then international ones. International carriers will also need to cut back on their rotations. This will begin in the coming days. 🙁

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s. Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid. Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.



Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior. Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust... What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.



Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.

After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold? And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs. The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.

Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!

That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos. When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.

Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.



The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.

Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams. The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*

Hello everyone,

It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.

A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question. They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???

Not even a simple thank you!!!

From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕 Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????

Please forgive my little rant.

Wishing everyone all the best. Cheers,

Puma2A



...

...

" We’re ALL different, and so are our expectations when it comes to travel or leisure ". There are—without a doubt—as many ways to experience a trip as there are travelers!! For the two of us, it’s only our love of wild nature that guides us to East Africa. The stated goal of this trip was purely wildlife-focused, and NOT about discovering the country or its people.

...

Hello everyone,

Previously, I shared the account of a trip/safari in southern Tanzania in June 2024, in the Mikumi and Selous reserves.

This time, still in southern Tanzania, I invite you to join us in Ruaha National Park. (Then, depending on the number of images allowed in my quota, at the end of my story, we’ll return to Selous for the second part of the same trip.)

- This trip/safari took place in November 2022. - Our flight started in Marseille, heading to Addis Ababa, then Dar es Salaam (via Ethiopian Airlines). In Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airfield.

-1- During the layover in Addis Ababa. The Airbus A-350 in the early morning mist.



Reminder: Click on each image to enlarge it, if needed. .

From Dar es Salaam, if you want to go by road to Ruaha, it’ll take a very long and tiring day. 🤪

On previous trips, we’ve always taken a bush plane for this route. In this case, it took just over an hour and a half, with two short intermediate stops to drop off passengers at other bush airstrips.

Since I’m also passionate about aviation, I love these flights where you can admire the landscapes from low altitude while sitting right behind the pilot 🙂.

-2- These routes mainly use Cessna 208 Caravans.



At the Msembe airstrip, we’re greeted around 1:30 PM by a guide and a driver from our chosen lodge. They brought a picnic basket, which we enjoy at a nearby picnic area. We’re by the Ruaha River, completely dry—it’s scorching hot.

-3- The first mammals we encounter are a pair of female impalas, accompanied by a young male.



Reminder: Click on the image to view it in larger size. 😉

-4- To save the hippopotamus populations from certain death, rangers had to dig holes in the sand with bulldozers. Fortunately, water is present beneath the sand layer.



-5- This crocodile doesn’t seem to have been accepted as a swimming neighbor by the hippos...



We’ll explore along the river for 2-3 hours before crossing it at a ford toward the southern part of the reserve.

-6- The typical landscape of Ruaha, with its many baobabs.



-7- My buddy the R.L.B. is also here to welcome me.... 🙂 🙂



-8- As well as this little bee-eater... 😎



-9- ...which reminds us of the origin of its name...!



-10- Above a rare waterhole, a fish eagle keeps watch for fish...



...

*** Please wait until the end of the story for any questions or to share your own experiences in Ruaha. (Or via PM.) Thanks in advance for keeping this account smooth and enjoyable. 😉

...

*** I’m not an ornithologist, but birds are an important and unavoidable part of safari discoveries. You’ll find quite a few in the images of my story. 😎

...

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.

I'm starting a new travel journal in Italy. It's about a month-long trip (from September 3, 2025, to October 4, 2025), or rather a part of it. This section matches the title: an opera festival in Verona (one evening) and the Dolomites in the Veneto region. I'm posting the part of the trip I think will interest French-speaking readers the most (since this is where I saw the most French travelers). Here’s a quick summary: - Trip in September 2025 - Solo travel with camping (caravan) - Small geographic area: besides Verona, the surroundings of the Marmolada massif and Cortina d'Ampezzo. - Main but not exclusive activity: hiking.

Since I have limited internet access where I am now, I’ll be writing slowly. Here we go!

Day 1: Thursday, September 4, 2025

I arrived in Veneto under the sun and with warm weather. I drove to Verona and tried to find a spot at the campsite (Verona Village) located south of the city. Unfortunately, it was full. Booking on the website was mandatory, but when I tried to reserve a few days ago, the site never moved from the "reservation" step to the "payment" step (I don’t know why—it’s always like that in these cases). I found another solution over the phone; the drive from southern Verona to the northeast was a bit long, but I finally settled at the "Oro Verde" campsite. It’s an "agricampeggio" (farm camping or rural campsite) on the outskirts of the city, and its name (green gold) suggests they produce olives there. Since it wasn’t late, I biked to the Adige River, following the recommended route into the city.

We arrive in the evening in Marrakesh, and a taxi arranged by our friendly Riad is waiting for us. The driver takes us to the door, where we’re briefly greeted by our hosts. The room is heated—phew—because it’s really cold on this January 17th for our arrival. Riad Alisma, where we’re staying for 2 nights. The next morning, it’s pouring rain when we wake up, but after a good breakfast, the rain has calmed down. Off we go to the medersa, which allows for a relatively sheltered visit. We’d visited this palace 15 years ago—it’s been renovated since then.





From there, without the rain, we wander aimlessly and eventually end up near the tanneries, but it’s Sunday, and there’s very little activity. Of course, we get hassled by a tout.



Here, the hides after being treated with lime—I love the colors.

We part ways a bit annoyed. He gets a little revenge by giving us bad directions, and we end up outside the city walls. We decide to take a taxi to the new modern art museum—60 dirhams for the 5 km, which is nothing when you think about it. That tout, who we didn’t ask for anything and made it clear we weren’t buying anything, dragged us into a shop supposedly only open that day and demanded 50 dirhams for his "services"! Let’s forget that bad moment and enjoy the exhibition at the MACAL.



The taxi on the way back drops us off at Place des Ferblantiers, not far from our Riad. We’re a little peckish—it’s worth mentioning that at lunchtime, we only ate a plate of beans from a street vendor. So, we buy a bunch of little sweets, each more delicious than the last, at Ajar. We snack while sipping mint tea and watching life go by around us. A final visit to the Museum of Moroccan Cuisine on our way back helps us dodge a few more showers. Then it’s back to the Riad. The atmosphere in the city is heating up—it’s the AFCON final tonight. The temperatures, though? Not so much. We ordered a meal at the Riad, and it was a good call—not only was it really tasty, but the rain also picked up again. Our day in Marrakesh ends under the covers with a good book and some photo sorting. Still, we managed 10,750 steps. View of our Riad



Tomorrow, we’ll pick up our rental car from Medloc and head to Essaouira.

Hi everyone, Okay, here I go—I haven’t done a cruise review in ages, and even longer since I’ve posted one on this forum. So, this is kinda your fault, Catherine, if I’m getting back into it... I just hope I haven’t lost my touch!

It’s a transatlantic cruise, so there are a lot of sea days. That means this review will mostly focus on the ship, especially the "Haven" section, which doesn’t get much coverage on this forum. There’ll definitely be some comparisons with MSC’s Yacht Club, since they’re direct competitors.

This will be my third cruise with NCL—a company I really love—but my first in The Haven.

My two previous cruises were on smaller ships: the NCL Sun for the Chilean fjords and the NCL Spirit in February 2025 in Asia, departing from Taiwan and arriving in Korea. I *loved* the Spirit.

Alright, let’s get started!

This trip was booked almost last-minute in early October for late November, after I had to cut short my August trip for medical reasons.

At first, when I looked at this cruise, I hadn’t specifically decided to go for The Haven. I wanted a relaxing cruise but still with destinations I hadn’t been to before. I kinda stumbled upon this one, and the itinerary appealed to me. I also found the balcony cabin price pretty good—around 2800 € for a balcony cabin (for two), all-inclusive package included. Not including flights, of course. In the end, we decided to try The Haven (obviously not the same price), but I think we got a great deal for the promised perks.

Itinerary: Departure from Lisbon, arrival in Galveston, Texas. Stops: St. Martin, St. Thomas, La Romana, Cabo Rojo, Falmouth in Jamaica.

Hey fellow travelers!

So, a new year has begun. It’s time to reconnect with the VF buddies and wish you all my best for 2026—a year I hope is obviously full of travel, since, as I just made up: "If travel’s good, everything’s good" 😄.

To celebrate, I’m inviting you into my new "travel journal," the one from our latest trip in November 2025, a little two-week adventure.

This time, we headed to The Gambia, a tiny country tucked right in the middle of Senegal, before making our way to Casamance.

The Gambia is English-speaking, Senegal is French-speaking, but the locals? They couldn’t care less—because in this part of the world, they mostly speak Wolof, Fula, Jola, or Mandinka. Hence the title: Senegambia 😉.

As usual, I’m sharing the live updates I sent to friends and family—super casual, of course.

I know this isn’t the kind of destination that draws crowds, but if you love adventure, laughter, and emotion, it might just be your thing 😊.

Hugs 😘

Hello, I’m heading to Thailand for two weeks at the end of February with my family. I went there 20 years ago. I’d love your thoughts on a relaxed two-week trip that lets me show my kids the joys of travel while also taking time to unwind (after all, it *is* vacation! :)) I’m planning to spend 2 days in Bangkok, then take the overnight train to Chiang Mai (so my kids can experience that) and stay for 2-3 nights. After that, I’ll fly to Phuket for a few nights, then head to Koh Lanta for a few days before returning to Phuket to make my way back to Bangkok for the last two days before departure. Tons of people travel for two weeks during this time—any recommendations? So far, I only have my round-trip flight ticket to Bangkok. Thanks in advance!

Hi everyone, We’re just back from a month-long trip to Morocco in our camper van. After crossing France (we left from the Nantes area) and Spain, we arrived in Algeciras where we bought our boat tickets to Tangier. When we got to Tangier, as we were going through customs, you can imagine our surprise when the customs officer took our road map of Morocco and pointed out the label "Western Sahara" (just like in the forum’s destination section, by the way!). He wanted it to say "Moroccan Sahara" instead!!! But there was nothing we could do—it was an old map... He wouldn’t listen, and after long discussions with the other (younger) customs officers, he finally gave it back and let us through... Unbelievable! Later, we heard that other travelers had their maps confiscated outright. So, hide it well if you want to keep yours!!!

Anyway, we skirted around Tangier’s suburbs—pretty grim—and finally arrived in Asilah.

Following the coast and the long promenade along the beach, we reached the campsite. It was a bit crowded, not much shade, but it wasn’t far from the medina or the beach, and it wasn’t expensive. There’s some life here: Moroccan families seem to live on-site, in tents or basic bungalows. A woman was cooking tagine on a brazier—we were right in the atmosphere! The night was quiet, and we slept well. We set off on foot, walking along the seafront to the medina... We’d already been here in 2009. It was less touristy back then! Still, at this early hour, the little streets inside were very quiet. The walls had been freshly whitewashed, and there were even more murals than before. Around 11:30 AM, we strolled along the ramparts by the sea. There was a nice breeze! And a lot more people around. We enjoyed a milkshake on the terrace of a café overlooking the beach that stretches out at the foot of the medina. Some young guys were having fun diving off the rocks—and even off the top of the wall!

Good evening everyone! 🙂

We’re back from our September 2025 road trip, this time to explore Arizona and New Mexico, and it’s time for me to start my travel journal—especially since everything’s already booked for another trip in September 2026 (to California), and I need to get started on the planning.

I was a little worried this new visit to Uncle Sam’s country might not be as "wow" as the others, but we still discovered some incredible places.

For those who don’t know us, we’re a couple in our seventies who speak very little English, but that didn’t stop us from fully enjoying our stay.

For this 6th road trip in the U.S., we spent 21 nights there, drove 4,160 km by car, and walked nearly 160 km in a loop starting from Phoenix.

We’d been to Arizona before (but not this side) and never to New Mexico. This whole road trip was a huge discovery for us.

In the prices mentioned (some in euros, others in dollars), bank fees and exchange charges are included. The flights, car rental, and parking were all paid for in December 2024 when we booked.

We’d downloaded the MPC (Mobile Passport Control) app, but there wasn’t a dedicated line at Phoenix Airport. Still, we got through quickly with friendly, smiling agents.

I don’t drive at all (I hate it), so the stops were chosen based on activities but also, for some, to limit daily mileage for the sole driver. The kilometers listed in the itinerary are the daily distances.

We traveled from September 9th to 22nd, unfortunately once again without our dear friends Mimi and Maumau.

The itinerary



Day 1: Flight Marseille-Paris-Phoenix, then Gold Canyon (133 km) Day 2: Tucson (271 km) Lost Dutchman State Park Day 3: Tucson (155 km) Day 4: Tucson (34 km) Day 5: Bisbee (182 km) Day 6: Lordsburg (345 km) Day 7: Las Cruces (253 km) Day 8: Alamogordo (162 km) Day 9: Roswell (264 km) Day 10: Tucumcari (369 km) Day 11: Las Vegas (281 km) – the one in New Mexico Day 12: Taos (213 km) Day 13: Santa Fe (224 km) Day 14: Albuquerque (123 km) Day 15: Gallup (246 km) Day 16: Holbrook (224 km) Day 17: Flagstaff (179 km) Day 18: Sedona (118 km) Day 19: Sedona (48 km) Day 20: Sedona (41 km) Day 21: Phoenix (256 km) Day 22: Phoenix Airport (35 km)

📊 **Budget**: A little over 7,500 € for both of us, all included. The exchange rate was in our favor (1.17 dollars to 1 €). 📊 **Flights**: Marseille-Paris Charles de Gaulle-Phoenix: 1,787 € for two, with one checked bag each (Air France) 📊 **ESTA**: $42 📊 **America the Beautiful Pass**: $80 📊 **Parking**: 134 € (super eco at Marseille) 📊 **Car rental (Hertz)**: 865 €. Since there were no SUVs left in the reserved category (Nissan Rogue), we got an upgrade (4x4 Ford Explorer). We booked through Air France (15% discount). We’d originally reserved it in December for 1,140 €, but since prices dropped in March, we canceled and rebooked for 865 €. Hertz offers a free Hertz Gold Plus Rewards program, which gives you priority counter service when picking up the car. 📊 **Accommodation**: 2,400 € We stayed in hotels and motels of varying standards (from 60 to 203 € per night, depending on the city), all booked through Booking.com or Hotels.com. Out of 21 nights, only two didn’t include breakfast in the price. Booking.com sometimes offers slightly cheaper rates if you book by phone using the mobile app, and our Genius 3 status on the site also got us some preferential rates. 📊 **Supplementary insurance**: AVA 200 € for medical care if needed 📊 **Cash**: $2,078. We left with 1,000 € exchanged before departure and made two withdrawals of $500. This cash covered: - Evening restaurants and tips - Midday picnics - Gas: $298 for 4,160 km - Museum and private park entries (per person): - Lost Dutchman: $10 - Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum: $28 - Bird Cage Theater: $16 - Tombstone Shootout: $8 - New Mexico Farm & Ranch Museum: $12 - Roswell International UFO Museum: $5 - Billy the Kid Museum: $7 - Rancho de Taos: $22 - West Fork Oak Creek Trail entry: $15 We got a few discounts thanks to our senior age (+65). - Souvenirs and little treats

Like on our previous road trips, we didn’t rent a GPS. We got around using offline GPS apps Here WeGo and Organic Maps, with maps of the states we visited downloaded before we left (on our phones).

❤️❤️❤️ **Highlights** (there are so many!) 📍 Goldfield Ghost Town (even if it’s a reconstruction) 📍 The standing army of Saguaro cacti at Saguaro National Park West 📍 Diving into the cowboy universe of Tombstone 📍 The welcome from Rick and Henry at our guesthouse in Bisbee (Garden at Mile High Ranch) 📍 The tangled rocks of Chiricahua National Monument 📍 The flavored pistachios from Dwayne’s Fresh Jerky and Mac Ginnis Pistachioland 📍 Restaurants: La Posta (Las Cruces), Diner 66 (Albuquerque), and the Haunted Hamburger (Jerome) 📍 The old plazas of New Mexico 📍 The solitude and beauty of the white dunes at White Sands National Park 📍 Stepping back in time at the Billy the Kid Museum (Fort Stanton) 📍 Sections of historic Route 66 and the old motels of Tucumcari, especially at night when all the neon lights are on 📍 Taos Pueblo and diving into Native American culture 📍 After the Rio Grande Bridge, the descent via NM 567 to the very bottom of the Rio Grande Gorge, then the road along the riverbanks to Taos 📍 The tranquility of the Chimayo Sanctuary 📍 Discovering the ingenious native dwellings at Bandelier National Monument and Walnut Canyon National Park 📍 The small towns along the Turquoise Trail 📍 The red rocks of Red Rock Park and the Painted Desert 📍 The extraordinary colors of the petrified trees at Petrified Forest National Park 📍 Sedona, its red rocks, and the reward of the viewpoints at the end of hikes (Devil’s Bridge, The Subway, and West Fork Oak Creek) 📍 The immersion in Mexico when visiting Tlaquepaque 📍 The almost-ghost town of Jerome and its terraced streets 📍 The incredible kindness of Americans, always ready to help and up for a chat ❤️

☹️☹️☹️ **Flops** (there are very few) 📍 Several museums and churches being closed, so we couldn’t visit them 📍 Some museums and visitor centers opening late (10 AM) and closing early (4 PM) 📍 A 64 € phone roaming charge because we got near the Mexican border and picked up their cell tower 📍 The outrageous price ($5.99) for a gallon of gas at the Shell near Phoenix Airport

I hope this helps! Anyway, thanks for reading my long post. Don’t hesitate to reach out, even via PM, if you see I haven’t replied and you’d like more details. Have a great evening, everyone! 🙂

Hi there,

I arrived in Berlin last night. In another discussion, I shared how much of a "nightmare" the flights from Nice were.

I’ll be posting some impressions here—what I liked and what I didn’t like as much.

This is my first time in Berlin. I’m staying for two weeks. For now, I’m alone, but I’ll be joined by someone in a few days.

Just to clarify, I won’t be posting any photos because my camera gave up the ghost the day before I left. It refused to read memory cards, and I don’t have a smartphone—just a tablet that I leave at the hotel.

Speaking of photos, a few years ago, at the Ducasse d’Ath in Belgium, I met a retired teacher who wasn’t taking any pictures of the festival. I asked her, "You’re not taking any photos?" She told me that during a trip to Nicaragua, she’d photographed howler monkeys and only noticed when looking at the pictures later that the males had huge testicles—something she hadn’t realized in person. She said, "Since then, I don’t bother with photos anymore!" I’ve thought about that often and wonder if I should do the same and stop taking pictures. Still, I’ll probably get a smartphone since it’s hard to go without one these days.

Hi everyone,

I hesitated for a long time before publishing this travel journal since it’s been 8 months now since I left Nisyros. But in the end, I found it too beautiful to keep quiet about. So here we go—I finally got around to writing it. Nisyros is a stunning little Greek island, and luckily, it’s well hidden. Located a good twenty hours by boat from Athens, its distance from the Greek mainland deters most tourists from visiting. That’s what makes it an off-the-beaten-path destination. So much for the general info.



Before diving into the details, I should mention that I visited by bike (despite its severe and constant volcanic elevation) as part of a solo trip from France to Turkey. Why this detail? Because out of the ten countries I crossed and the dozens of sites I saw, Nisyros is one of my top three favorites (along with Pag Island, off-season, in Croatia, and Albania for its overall beauty—stunning natural landscapes and the incredible hospitality of its people). Anyway, welcome to this travel journal dedicated to the lovely little volcanic island of Nisyros…



I arrived one beautiful morning in Mandraki, the island’s main port. The twenty-hour boat ride from Athens went by like a breeze. I slept on the deck for three or four hours, sprawled on a bench that was more or less sheltered from the wind. At this time of year (it’s May 2nd), tourists aren’t exactly flocking here, so the boat was far from full. My first glimpse of Nisyros is classic Greek island scenery: blazing sun, an azure sky, and an even deeper blue sea. The trip is off to a great start. I quickly found a small, out-of-the-way hotel (I’m one of those people who avoids crowds as much as possible when traveling, which is getting harder and harder to do). While everyone else from the boat turned right out of the port toward the center of Mandraki, I went left! My nice little hotel was just a hundred meters away, facing a pretty little Orthodox church whose red color contrasted beautifully with the deep blue sea.



I dropped off my panniers in my room so I could ride light for once, then headed toward the next village: Pali. It’s a small fishing village that apparently comes to life a bit in the summer with a few tourists.



As I pedaled along the dock, I passed right by a guy sitting in a chair in full sun. Unfazed despite the sweat pouring down his forehead, he untangled his fishing net with a precision that commanded respect. I gave him the obligatory kalimera (good morning), but he reacted like a deaf-mute—no response at all. On the other hand, his employee answered me kindly from the trawler docked right next to him. Standing on deck, he was also untangling a mess of nets and invited me aboard to chat. That’s Mohamed.



Communication wasn’t easy since he only spoke Greek and I didn’t, but he was cheerful, and his joy was contagious. He proudly showed off their catch of the day: two beautiful rays and a few brightly colored fish. We chatted like that for about fifteen minutes.



When it was time to hit the road again, I said goodbye to Mohamed, who smiled back. But this time, his boss—still dripping sweat in his chair under the scorching sun—greeted me too. Turns out he wasn’t deaf or mute after all.



I continued along the coast since that’s where most of Nisyros’ beaches are. They start lining up just outside Pali. These are black sand beaches, which can’t hide their volcanic origins.



Yesterday afternoon in Athens, I met Peter and Michelle, a Dutch-French couple, while we were waiting for the ferry to depart. The Greek sailors were on strike, so we ended up waiting about twelve hours before setting off. Anyway, we had plenty of time to chat, and Peter, who’s lived on Tilos—a small island near Nisyros—for about twenty years, told me that many migrants pass through these two islands. Most come from Afghanistan and Syria, fleeing authoritarian regimes and the massacres that come with them. They’re looking for *anywhere* else where the future can’t possibly be worse. Peter explained that you often find their belongings on the local beaches. And sure enough, I didn’t have to look far to spot some—clothes, life jackets…



I glanced around, hoping to see one of them to maybe exchange a few words, but no—no one. I was completely alone.



I got back on my bike and spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly, just exploring this beautiful part of Nisyros. I also picked up some supplies because tomorrow, I’d be heading inland for two days, deep into its four-kilometer-wide caldera to explore the volcano. I’d be sleeping in a tent, so I needed to stock up on food. After a restful night in a real bed—something rare on this bike trip (and I won’t even mention the shower…)—I finally set off for the volcano (I’ll share details about that charming little hotel with the amazing breakfasts at the end of the journal). To reach Stefanos (the name of the main crater), I had to climb to the top of the caldera. It was hot, and some of the slopes were between 10 and 15%, which is steep, especially with a 54 kg bike. But who cares? I was admiring the scenery, and I have to say, I was surprised by how green it was. The higher I climbed, the more beautiful the vegetation became. It stood out against the blue of the sea, and the landscapes inside the island were truly stunning. So, I stopped every five minutes to take photos. Every now and then, I’d come across cows in the middle of the road—or goats in the trees! They climbed with the agility of monkeys to munch on the leaves. I couldn’t get a photo of them because they’d all scatter before I got close. It was actually the noise they made climbing down that tipped me off to their presence. Two villages sit at the top of the caldera: Emporios and Nikia. I passed the first one without climbing up to it, then continued to the second. And let me tell you, Nikia was love at first sight! I found myself pedaling through tiny streets, some barely wider than my bike with its panniers. The walls were white, and the doors were painted in all sorts of colors—green, blue, red… The streets were empty, and silence reigned. But it wasn’t a dead silence. It was more like the kind you find in small, secret, peaceful places. The village exuded tranquility, calm, and well-being. I leaned my bike—with all its gear—against a wall without locking it. It was the first time on this trip that I’d done that. Sure, its weight made it more like a tank than a bike, so you’d have to be *really* motivated to steal it, but here, for some reason, I felt completely at ease. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but I go a lot by instinct, and here, it felt right. So I left my bike there and went to eat a little farther away, at a small restaurant on the village’s main square. It’s famous all over Greece for the beautiful mosaic that covers and decorates the floor. Once I’d eaten and drunk my fill, I hopped back on my bike, which had waited patiently without running off. And the best part? After riding uphill all morning to reach the top of the caldera, all I had to do now was coast downhill to the volcano. Pure bliss in such breathtaking scenery.