Results for "Cannes+|+127"

😎 si vous desirez des infos sur la descente depuis l'europe vers l'afrique, contactez moi...fabrice depuis nouadhibou du monde....l'essentiel en quelques lignes: les autoroutes sont certes payantes mais plus en securité, de perpignan, ma ville natale à nouadhibou, environs 4500 km, il faut savoir menager sa monture et soit même, verifier les niveaux du vehicule tous les matins et n'oubliez pas aussi de boire vous même surtout dans cette periode d'été...tout les chemins menent à rome, ceci dit j'utilise l'autoroute de la côte pour l'espagne pour arriver à algesiras puis ceuta en bateau, de là je redescend sur l'autoroute de larache jusqu'à casablanca, pour ceux qui n'ont pas le visas de la mauritanie, c'est le moment, consulat mauritanien, rte jedida, pres du camping l'oasis et enfin retour vers la côte en passant par marrakech, un petit jus d'orange et puis agadir...laayoune...tan tan...ligne droite jusqu'à la frontiere, à droite le desert, à gauche les falaises, pour ceux qui ont un petit budjet avec une canne à pêche, on fait des miracles. n'hesitez pas pour plus d'infos, fabrice

Salut a tous

Je pars en guadeloupe au mois de juillet et je cherche plein d'infos sur les choses a ne pas manquer.

J'ai bien acheter le petit fute, mais je prefere les experiences personnelles des autres voyageurs.

Cela reste plus objectif et moins commercial et puis l'echange et plus sympa que la lecture.

Donc merci a tous.

Fabian.

Ps:je compte me deplacer sur marie galante et les sainte, donc ce cote là egalement les infos me seraient utile.

bonjour à tous,

J'aurais voulu avoir des renseingnements car mon mari et moi envisageons de partir en république dominicaine avec notre fille qui aura 5 1/2 mois à ce moment là -->nous voudrions partir du 05/06 au 20/06 inclus.

Evidemment comme beaucoup de gens nousnous posons beaucoup de questions :n'est-ce pas risqué de partir "si loin" avec un bébé, est-ce que les infrastuctures sanitaires sont suffisantes là-bas, ne risque-t-elle pas d'être déboussolée et ne plus faire ses nuits, ...

si vous aussi êtes partis en voyage avec un bébé faites moi (nous) profiter de votre expérience.

merci.

😕 bonjour à tous,

je désespère d'avoir des nouvelles récentes de quelqu'un qui connait cet hotel depuis peu de temps .Les infos récoltées sur ce site sont mitigées et contradictoires, et ne sont plus très récentes. Pourrait-on me dire si la plage est aussi belle qu'on le dit et si les vagues ne sont pas trop grosses, si l'hotel est correct tant pour les installations, chambres, bouffe, accueil etc.... UN GRAND MERCI D'AVANCE.

Bonjour,

qui a voyagé avec des enfants au vietnam et evtl.me donner des conseils utiles?

Qu'est-ce que vous avez aime?

Merci

Bonjours qui peux me donner des renseignements sur l'hotel el caracol sur la riviera maya et sur le club med de cancun.

merçi.

Memo

bonjour, je suis à la recherche de tous documents, études, expériences, images, sites internet, etc.....traitant des mariages traditionnels à travers le monde. merci à ceux qui me feront partager connaissance ou expérience.

😉Salut, voici qq infos sur le Natura Park de Punta Cana sur la très belle plage de Bavaro.

Nous y sommes allés en decembre 2002. C'était top. Il a fait beau toute la semaine, avec une légère brise pour pouvoir bien respirer.

Infrastructures:

L'hôtel était très harmonieux: grandes chambres et salles de bain dans de joli bâtiments de 1 à 2 étages maxi, parfaitement intégrées à ce magnifique park (etangs, plein d'arbes, fleurs, palmiers).

Chambres face ou à 50mètres maxi de la plage et de la mer. Très belles infrastructures. Petits ponts de bois passant au dessus de qq étangs où se trouvent flamands roses, herons, canes et autres oiseaux. Maginifique! Le natura park comme son nom l'indique.

Superbe piscine avec bar les pieds dans l'eau. Jaccuzzi d'exterieur dans lequel on peut boire ses cocktails.

Chambres confortables avec clim, Tv satellite, service thé/café.

Plage: assez de place pour tout le monde sans être entassés. Super service. Gens adorables. Par contre il y avait des algues quand nous y étions, donc pas top.

Nourriture: Formule tout compris, ca c cool. Ca evite plein d'ennuis. Le choix est vaste (que des buffets). Super petits déj au bord de l' etang. Je déconseille le resto de la plage pour le soir. Décevant.

Aucun moustique because hôtel est "gazé" tous les soirs pour éviter cet inconvénient.

Voilà si vous avez des questions, je suis à votre dispo!😇

😊je vais à punta cana du 15 février au 29

j'ai entendu parlé d'une excursion Bavaro Runners Safarie Aventure. y-t-il quelqu'un qui connaît çà.

commentaires plus prix si possible

à bientôt

Quelle excursion me conseillez-vous depuis Punta Cana (H10 Bavaro)

Nous partons le 26 janvier avec Marsans.

D'avance Merci

J'ai passé un moment magic devant ma tele a voir un nicolas hulot que j'envie de plus en plus et dont des millions de personnes voudraient lui piquer sa place, au moins pour une emission!!!!

Mais l'alaska c'est un peu con mais je ne voyais pas un territoire comme cela, je pensais que c'etait tout plat!!, et cela m'a vraiment donné l'envie de partir!!!!!!!!!!!

J'aimerais bien avoir vos impressions (sur l'emmission et aussi sur l'alaska) et aussi des tuyaux pour ce qui on eu la chance d'y aller

a++ et bon voyage

Bonjour, nous souhaitons partir en républic dominicaine la première semaine de Novembre mais il y'a tellement d'hotels que l'on ne sait lequel choisir.

Nous cherchons un bon confort, une belle plage, de bons restaurants et des excursions sympa. Les activités ne sont pas notre priorité.

Merci de vos conseils.

Hi everyone! The forum has been a huge help during my moments of doubt, and since Cape Verde isn’t a destination with many discussions, I felt I had to share my trip report 🙂

First, the EASE: I could never validate it from my phone—I tried 50 times without success, and on the computer, it worked the first time. Then, Cabo Verde Airlines: forget online check-in. I went to the airport early to get my window seat (and in the end, the plane wasn’t full—I had three seats to myself, so I could finish my night peacefully). No in-flight entertainment for those who don’t sleep on planes.

Monday 9: Flight + arrival at Antonio’s (Oia Mindelo Guesthouse). Antonio’s apartment is up on the hill, but really, it’s only a 10-minute walk to the beach and 10 minutes to the city center (depending on where in the center). He picked me up at the airport (1000$). I continued relaxing by doing... nothing on the beach. Dinner in town at Café Mindelo: a pretty place, but otherwise meh—expensive and not necessarily good (2100$ for a beer and a fish that didn’t seem freshly caught as advertised). Tuesday 10: Antonio offered to do a tour of the island (for cheap), and we left with his other guests (a lovely English couple, 76 and 77 years old). Stops at Salamansa (I felt something special on that beach—I could’ve stayed there for an hour doing nothing), then another scenic spot, a restaurant, and Baias das Gatas (I took a quick dip, but to me, it had less charm than Salamansa). Then we crossed the island to return to São Pedro (beautiful but windy; the village looks cute). Exhausted, I went to bed early because of the ferry to Santo Antão the next day. Wednesday 11: Antonio took me to the ferry, and we’ll see each other again since he’s hosting me at his aunt’s place during Carnival. On the ferry, I had a Booking.com reservation for what I thought was in Ribeira Grande (the town), but it was actually *in* the ribeira—specifically in Manta Velha (aluguer to Cruzinha ~600$). I thought I’d fallen into a hole, but I ended up loving it—Casa Familiar Gilda. Gilda is a divine cook (dinner for 1000$—don’t eat lunch, or there won’t be room), the village has a typical rural Santo Antão vibe, the place has great energy, and you can get around easily by aluguer. Thursday 12: I left early by aluguer to Ribeira Grande (250$), then another aluguer to Ponta do Sol (100$)—a sleepy beauty at that hour—to do the Ponta do Sol-Cruzinha hike, finishing in Cha de Igreja. Departure at 8:22 AM from the cemetery in Ponta do Sol, passing through Fontainhas (those doing it the other way will have a fabulous climb at the end 😏), and let’s go! I loved this glimpse of rural life—past or present—the sea is stunning, and we were shaded most of the way (though it goes up and down, it’s manageable). The arrival at Cha de Mar is breathtaking, and Cruzinha is a charming little town (arrived at 12:30 PM). I’d brought my swimsuit after reading there was a beach, but I packed it back up—too many waves and big pebbles. I continued to Cha de Igreja (25 more minutes) after a short break (ask for the path that doesn’t go by the road). It’s adorable with its church square (you don’t see this layout much elsewhere). I might’ve stayed longer to enjoy the place, but a taxi driver asked if I wanted to return to Manta Velha (1000$), and like a fool, I said yes (it was 2:30 PM—I could’ve waited for the 4:30 PM aluguer for 100$, but oh well). But since I still had energy, I decided to see if I could find a grog distillery. I ran into a French guy arriving at Gilda’s, and we ended up talking to Rodrigo, who explained everything from A to Z about how they make grog (the simple cane juice is amazingly good—but the work is clearly tough). Friday 13: Transfer to Xoxo on Djalma’s advice 😉, where I’d booked a room at Casa Xoxo. I did the hike to Rabo Crusto... it’s tough, but I kept quiet when I saw a pregnant woman doing it with her two little ones 😄. There’s also a distillery I didn’t linger in, and I took a tea break with that wonderful landscape before heading back. I couldn’t find the path Jean-Michel had told me about (take a right at the village entrance), so I went back down to the water reservoir to turn off and take the waterfall path (anyone can point it out if needed). The bedding at Casa Xoxo was perfect, but the dinner atmosphere was less family-like. Saturday 14: No one at Casa Xoxo could tell me when the aluguer passed, so I scarfed down my breakfast and headed down a bit. I found one (not sure if he’d planned to work, but there were three of us, so he left). Arrived in Ribeira Grande, an aluguer driver told me the coastal road to Porto Novo was closed and we had to take the Corde road—but no one was leaving, so we’d have to charter... Sometimes, you just have to say it: aluguer drivers say there’s no ride just to make you pay the private price (3500$). But this time, it was true! With another French couple, we wanted to go to Tarrafal. Our driver called the Porto Novo-Tarrafal aluguer to wait for us. The Corde road is stunning—more different landscapes (thorny forest, misty peaks...). Changed aluguers in Porto Novo and headed to Tarrafal. Another world—lunar landscape on the way. Arrived in Tarrafal and relaxed. Sunday 15: Hike from Tarrafal to Monte Trigo, left at 8 AM, and I’m glad I did—I was in the shade until about 9:30 AM, then the sun got strong. Beautiful walk, arrived in Monte Trigo around 11:30 AM. The people weren’t particularly friendly, but oh well. Swam at the little beach in Monte Trigo (the water is *so* good). I waited for other French people who had “booked” a boat for the return. Came back with Javi (50 min—1000$ each), who lent us masks and snorkels for some snorkeling. Had grog with Ludo, Estelle’s husband, who was waiting at the bar, then filled my grog bottle at the *mercearia*. I admit, it’s delicious, but I don’t remember much of that evening 😇🤪. Except Javi put on a show saying he’d been robbed, had no money, and needed to pay the boat owner, etc. People paid again (apparently not me, since Ludo, Estelle, and I arrived at the restaurant after Javi’s drama). FYI, Javi does this often—my host had warned the couple renting the other room to watch out for him because he scams people for money. So Javi is 35 with hazel/special-colored eyes. But if you don’t repay the “service,” the day was still great. Monday 16: Several of us were taking the late-afternoon boat, so we chartered an aluguer (7000$) to avoid the 6 AM one—trip—boat to Mindelo. Antonio picked me up at the ferry, and boom—Carnival! I found a spot on Rua de Lisboa. My neighbor was from Santo Antão just for Carnival, spoke French, and explained that last year’s Carnival started 3 hours late because a float couldn’t fit under the power lines 😏 (like they don’t know the height by now hahaha). On Monday, it’s the teachers (nice—kind of a warm-up) and the Madingas. Once they passed my spot, I followed them along the route—I LOVED it! By midnight, they still hadn’t reached Praça Nova, and the police told them to speed up, but I loved that energy! Tuesday 17—Mardi Gras: Beach day, then Carnival! Antonio had bought me a seated ticket just in case (300$). Ended up in front of a punch stand, where I ran into two French women I’d met in Manta Velha. Two guys from Mindelo talked to us, and we did Carnival with them. And what was bound to happen, happened: a float couldn’t pass because... it was taller than the power lines 😏😏😏. The dancers kept dancing while the crowd tried to lift the cable. Finally, a guy in a tree climbed higher and used a pole to lift it... and the parade could continue 😉. Around 12:30–1:30 AM, when the concert was supposed to start, the power went out. I went home and later learned the concert started around 3 AM. Wednesday 18: I went home because I was taking the boat back to Santo Antão, heading to Casa Familiar Gilda. Walked the loop from Manta Velha. Thursday 19: Left early for Ribeira da Paul to do the loop to Sandra’s House. It’s truly breathtaking! Back at Gilda’s, I chilled. I wanted to go to Sinagoga’s natural pools, but the hike had worn me out. Friday 20: Return to Mindelo on the red company’s ferry—no comparison: way more comfortable than the blue company’s, especially for someone prone to seasickness. Beach. Exhausted, I struggled to sleep because the shop on the ground floor of my rental had a party until 3 AM (and the windows aren’t double-glazed—*hi*—but that’s common in Mindelo). Saturday 21: Ran into Estelle and Ludo by chance (the city’s small), and we arranged to share a taxi the next day since we had the same return flight. Beach (I tried Lazaretto Beach, but nope—not great—dead fish + weird smell = bad signs). So Laginhia was fine, and in the evening, a restaurant with singers, then Caravelle (the ground-floor shop didn’t bother me since I got home when they were saying goodbye 😏). Too bad—I dance salsa, bachata, kompa, zouk, but not kizomba hahaha, but it was still fun. Sunday 22: Took a taxi with Ludo and Estelle (1200$). Arrived *ages* before takeoff (no exchange office—get escudos in town if you have any left). Boom—CDG, boom—RER... home.

There you go—a super long trip report. Not sure if it’ll help, but the digital detox was amazing. These two islands are very different but so beautiful. I only got a glimpse, but they’re worth the trip. I was lucky to see Carnival (what joy in that city!) and happy the Cambodia ticket (my first idea) was way too expensive 😉

I got into music with the will To light up many hearths like Che could do, To circulate ideas, to advance utopia Alternating barricades, sharp thought, and poetry. Mc Solaar, Guérilla

Subscribing without a fight to the slightest line of my itinerary sometimes feels like an illusion. Because there are countries where, despite the fever and enthusiasm, despite the triumphant revolution, certain elements block my path. And if I had planned, for F. and me, a beautiful ascent up Tabouret Hill (Loma del Taburete, 453m), it was without accounting for vegetation as dense as it was thorny, which barred our way after just a few quarters of an hour of walking. Exhausted, I had to face the facts: we wouldn’t go any further. I needed to come up with some kind of Plan B.

But what is this country, an unwitting laboratory of the worst that white civilization has done during its reign? What is this magnificent place—yet another—entrusted to the care of oblivion, just 150 km from the land of freedom? According to Donald Trump, a country supporting terrorism; according to the locals, the vast battlefield of 20th-century ideologies; according to the average tourist, a hot country, a beautiful country, a country where the last illusions of a lost paradise are dying.

On the other side of Havana Bay, we love that statue of Christ blessing the city. There’s something gentle, soothing, in that patriarchal gesture. You’d almost be tempted to forget that at the dawn of the 16th century, those who claimed to represent the Church had no scruples about eradicating the Ciboney and Taíno populations. Worse, you’ll find magnificent this cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary, right in the heart of the old city. Under the guise of a civilizing necessity, Havana became, like so many other places, the gilded seat of European pretensions, at the expense of local populations doomed to extermination, then enslaved populations—more or less indigenous—who, you can imagine, didn’t often set foot in this holy place.

Lost in my thoughts, I try to push through this tangled vegetation. Nature reclaims its rights; nature abhors a vacuum. Yes, the well-trodden path of revolution couldn’t stay free of weeds! The road is buried. We give up and turn back, until that fork I’d noted before leaving, which would let us reach the top of the hill by skirting its northern slope.

So the white man arrives, settles, and gets rid of everything that bothers him. He has two unstoppable forces at his disposal: gunpowder and the spiritual certainty of being on the side of an all-powerful god. While the first gives him an unmatched material advantage over his new enemy, the second lets him use the first without feeling too guilty. That’s the magic of this supreme Church: it condemns all forms of pleasure—calling them impurity—while promoting plunder and crime under the cover of evangelization.

Walking through the city, you find a bit of Algiers, except that here, the decay is almost irreversible. You feel the splendor of the past, a disconcerting image of all vanity, from an era when men knew how to build beauty—especially if they didn’t have to share it. We’ll debate the benefits of colonialism for a long time, while glossing over the fact that those benefits often stopped at the city limits, limits all too obvious to the indigenous people. Havana isn’t just one or a few buildings; it’s an impressive collection of works of art built one after another, in what I think was a spirit of healthy competition. Yes, you find Algiers in this exuberance. As if these distant cities were the receptacle of everything that was best in the lands of origin. Atlantes and lintels, golds, blues, ogives, and monumental windows—exceptional architecture in an exceptional place.

Some streets are clean, swept with care; others are not, scattered here and there with potholes filled with water. A rather persistent smell of urine invades us regularly. We move on. And we look up: Havana is visited with your nose in the air. Because the beauty is truly up there, on those magnificent balconies and terracotta arches. Also because it’s not impossible that a piece of that balcony might suddenly detach, hurling our ends into an overseas tragedy we’d rather avoid. On the ground, here and there, rubble. Inexorably, this city is returning to dust.

My Plan B turns out to be no more successful than the first attempt. After a cheerful progression of a few hundred meters, same outcome, same struggle—the vegetation opposes any revolution: impossible to go around the hill! Once again, we have to turn back. We’ll try Plan C. I reassure myself by convincing myself to stay in the logic of this country: Cuba has been searching for itself for five centuries.

Coffee, tobacco, and sugarcane—the green gold of the colonies—so that money could flow and Europe could enjoy itself. Cuba’s history isn’t original. In reality, all the hot lands at these latitudes suffer the same fate: to serve the white man. While waiting for the awakening of consciences, UN Resolution 1514 and more or less affirmed revolutionary desires. Except that—and this reflection is just my own—if the awakening of consciences and the revolutionary will don’t play into what Resolution 1514 hides, there’s a good chance the said state will become a pariah. Those who don’t follow the American doctrine risk a lot; those who decide to follow Moscow risk everything. Independence was only the barely discreet instrument of American views. Patrice Lumumba will gladly enlighten us on the subject.

Turning back is good. Setting up Plan C is better. I won’t deviate from my goal: we will reach the top of Tabouret, whatever the cost! Near a small country road, I hesitate to change the program. Time is ticking—is it really reasonable to attempt the ascent? Then a tricycle taxi appears, a kind of tuk-tuk powered by an electric moped. I take it as a sign from fate, and we board for the starting point of Plan C.

In Cuba, even before Resolution 1514, independence was assured by a pawn of the United States, Fulgencio Batista. There’s no need to go over the whole history here; we’ll just remember that if you know how to give without counting to your former masters, you can enjoy a facade of freedom. Fidel Castro, on the other hand, didn’t know how to give. It never even occurred to him. That’s why the United States harbors such terrible hatred for this rebellious state, opposed to capitalist values and political prostitution. From there to slowly killing its people for nearly seventy years, one can legitimately cry injustice. But there are other priorities. Oh yes! Greenland...

Do Cubans eat their fill? Does seeing overweight people mean opulence? Food grows, no doubt about it. The soil is fertile, the climate favorable. No, what shocks here is the absolute precarity, the feeling of a people living in survival mode, and the decay of both goods and hope. Where to go? What’s the point? The stubbornness of the United States in wanting to impose its views on the Cuban government is felt much more by an overwhelmed people than by those few elites—caricatures of communism—who instill their vision of happiness with a crowbar. The embargo imposed in 1960; the false-flag attacks—American planes flying the colors of the Cuban revolution during the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961—the exasperation of placing Cuba on the list of countries supporting terrorism. More recently, Donald Trump decided to heavily tax countries supplying Cuba with fuel. The last time I saw such long lines near gas stations was during my first trip to Romania... in 1991. It’s not for me to judge whether Raúl and his clique are playing fair by thumbing their noses at the West. I don’t hold the ins and outs of this war of egos that keeps the world’s great powers awake. I only caught a glimpse of the poverty of an island in 2026, while we in Europe are buried under an avalanche of the useless and superficial.

At the start of the San Juan baths, we find the trailhead. It climbs steeply. But the weather is relatively mild, thanks to a cold wave hitting higher up in the United States. Dallas is under snow; we’re walking in 16°C, a stroke of luck. We climb over rocks, under fairly decent vegetation, sometimes low but passable. And we succeed in the ascent in an hour. Up there, the top of the hill is somewhat maintained, at a minimum, but maintained, as if to honor Che through an awful monument erected in his glory—a stubborn specimen from those years when good taste was inversely proportional to the delusional ideas of those being honored. Birds of prey (raptors?) circle overhead; the monument is dying, crumbling, falling into ruin. *Hasta siempre*—forever—will be for the words. Nature, erosion, life itself will have the last word over all revolutions.

Back at the foot of the hill, just before a memorable swim, we talk with a family living there in miserable shacks whose stability wasn’t unlike that of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The grandmother holds an animal, a rodent, by its feet. The grandfather has just killed it; she’s plucking its fur. A few steps away, water boils in a pot. She plunges the beast into the container. Tonight, the family will eat ragondin stew. Further on, another shack where, in a disorder rivaling the filth, a mother breastfeeds while sitting on the edge of a bed. Then, on the way down, we’ll meet a middle-aged man carrying a large jerrycan of water on his shoulder. Are these people happy here, far from the cities and their stakes? Is it too much to ask that they at least have access to electricity, running water, and decent, safe housing?

Outside the old city, Havana reveals wide avenues serving imposing institutions here and there. But whether in the colorful alleys of the old town or on the majestic and austere Plaza de la Revolución, the same feeling moves me: sadness. Seeing that only chaos has come from ideas crushes me. We praise, we sing the revolution—above all, we impose it in people’s minds as a necessity, when it’s nothing of the sort. Revolution is just the fruit of a few tortured minds who, once in power, do nothing better than all those before them. Enjoy power. Impose their views. It’s just a matter of color. Fidel saw red and knew how to persuade—or silence forever—his many detractors. The West sees everything in white, through the prism of human rights, and also knows how to persuade and silence its slightest detractors forever.

Paradoxically, Cuba survives largely thanks to tourism, a key element—let’s not be afraid to say it—of capitalism. And when a few players pick up the crumbs from transactions, the lion’s share and the foreign currency go to the government. So we won’t go to Varadero, the high place of relaxation overrun by Canadians. Instead, we’ll limit ourselves to crossing the ocean 30 minutes from the capital, at Santa María del Mar, to get an idea of cheaper tourism and to splash around for a few minutes in turquoise water invaded by sargassum. At the heart of the tourist season, we’ll meet few people. Like Havana, and according to its inhabitants, the high season is rather dead. But we won’t have come for nothing: we particularly love this return where, feverish, the taxi driver pushes his Moskvitch 2140 to the max on the highway, singing karaoke versions of hits at the top of his lungs from an onboard DVD player. East/West, the culture clash with a hint of Latino.

It’s time to leave this country of resourcefulness where extremes are very present. We’re leaving a 5-star hotel in front of yet another crumbling building. We’ve known restaurants at 40,000 pesos while in the street people eat for 400. We’ve seen those countless cars from another era and another culture—Pontiac, Lada, Chevrolet, Moskvitch—being overtaken by gleaming Mercedes and other Porsche Cayennes, the prerogative—if it still needed to be demonstrated—of the newly rich in search of recognition. Boarding the plane, we also understand that we’re not just traveling with tourists: there’s undoubtedly a rich and prosperous diaspora, just as there are relatively wealthy Cubans—well, wealthy enough to travel comfortably in the front of the aircraft. Meanwhile, on all the country’s roads, other Cubans try hitchhiking, their wives and children perched on a suitcase by the roadside. The father holds out his arm and holds a few bills in his hand like a card game. Where are they going? Who will pick them up?

Behind me, the gold of the Capitol. I’m told this gold comes from Russia. Like Marx and Lenin’s smoky theories? Like Stalin’s subtle and delicate paternalism? Let’s bet that, like the other buildings crumbling around it, the Capitol will also collapse one day, to avenge the Indians who perished from the diseases and guns of the whites, to avenge the Africans who obliterated their lives so Europeans could enjoy themselves, finally, to avenge all this abandoned people, left to the arbitrariness of democratic or non-democratic elections.

A sign in the street: We understand history. This is the revolution! We understand history. That’s the revolution.

No comment.

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! We’re visiting Guadeloupe for the first time in January. We’re looking for accommodation near Deshaies to start our trip. A quiet spot, not too far from the sea so we can walk there. Any suggestions are welcome!

Have a great day!

Hello VF friends! We’re planning to leave Marrakesh by rental car—this will be our second trip to Morocco. While we want to revisit some places, we also hope to explore new regions. Here’s the start of our itinerary, which could take 2 to 3 weeks. We don’t want to cover too many kilometers each day.

- Depart Marrakech for Essaouira, stopping to visit the Inzerki beehive. We’ll stay 3 nights in Essaouira to explore the city and the surrounding area. - Head toward Tamanar or that region for another 3 nights, exploring on a star-shaped route. We’d like to see the Paradise Valley and the coast. Not really keen on stopping in Agadir.

We’ve been to Tafraoute before, but I’d love to see some *greniers* (granaries) again, so we’re considering 1 or 2 nights there.

- Tiznit for 2 nights, making our way to Plage Blanche. - Guelmin and the Tighmert oasis for 2 nights. - Tata for 2 nights, visiting Akka Iguane and other villages.

After that, we’ll head east.

We’d love to hear about your experiences, great tips, and recommendations!

Thanks so much, and happy holidays!

Alright, I’m scaling back the kilometers thanks to the relevance and patience of our Cambodia experts! Here’s yet another hesitation /\ When I arrive early on 01/12 in PP, I have the choice between spending a day in PP (booking a convenience room for half a day and leaving by night bus), sleeping in PP and taking the bus to SR the next morning, or hiring a driver to head back up to PP with a nice little stop and maybe sleeping in Kampong Thom or Kampong Chhnang, then heading to SP on the 13th. Then from the 13th to the 17th or 18th, exploring Angkor. I continue to Kampong Thom and stay for 2 nights (if I didn’t do it on the way there), but I might be templed-out by then. I head to Kampong Cham, where I’ll spend 2 nights—one on the island and one on the mainland. Next, I go to Kampot and Kep: probably 2 nights in Kampot, 2 in Kep, and 1 night on Tonsay Island. On 01/28, I return to PP until 01/29. One detail: how long does it take to get from downtown PP to the new airport? Because I leave on 01/29 around 7:50 PM... Anyway, I’m ready to read your unfiltered reactions 🤓 and thank you in advance for your help!

Hello! We’re heading to Cambodia for a month in March. We’re planning to visit Phnom Penh, Battambang, Siem Reap, the Angkor temples, Kompong Luong, then head down to Kampot, Kep, and finish our trip on the islands of Koh Rong. Has anyone done this trip recently? Any great spots to recommend? Neighborhoods to stay in Phnom Penh (lively but not too touristy)? Tips for getting around between the major cities—bus, train, boat, motorbike? Thanks for all the advice! Fabienne

Hi everyone,

After letting our backpacks gather dust for several years, we’ve decided to set off on another adventure—this time as a family, with our 10- and 12-year-old kids! We’re planning a trip from mid-June to the end of July, with two stops: Cambodia (2 weeks) and Indonesia (4 weeks). But before diving into the details, we’ve got quite a few questions and doubts.

About Cambodia: We know this period is the rainy season. Is it really a good idea to go then? And if so, is it better to start with Cambodia and then move on to Indonesia, or does the order not matter from a climate perspective? Here are the activities and sites we’ve shortlisted: · The Mekong and Irrawaddy dolphins: do we actually have a chance of seeing them? · The Mondulkiri Project (elephant sanctuary): is this an ethical project? We want to avoid any form of animal exploitation. · The temples of Angkor: are 2 or 3 days enough to fully enjoy them? · Floating villages: where should we go for an authentic experience? Is it possible to spend the night there? · Hikes with waterfalls, lakes, etc.: are there any must-do treks? · And most importantly, what activities or sites would appeal to kids?

For Indonesia: We were there 15 years ago and loved our itinerary: Yogyakarta / Borobudur → Bromo → Kawah Ijen → Bali → Gili Trawangan. This time, we’re torn: · Retracing part of that route to share it with our kids (even if revisiting the same places isn’t super appealing), · Or exploring new regions. What’s almost certain is that we’d like to spend about two weeks in Raja Ampat. For the other two weeks, we’re undecided. We’re looking for kid-friendly ideas for places and activities, while avoiding too many connections for budget and environmental reasons. Since we’ll already see temples in Cambodia, we’d like to mix things up.

And finally… On our last trip to the region, we traveled without kids and went super free-spirited: only the round-trip tickets were booked, and we improvised the rest day by day without any major issues finding accommodation, food, or accessing the activities we’d spotted. Do you think this style of travel is still doable with two kids? Or has it become too risky or stressful? Are there regions where the "backpacker" approach is still possible, and others where it’s better to book in advance? And for certain activities or sites, is it recommended to hire guides?

Thanks in advance for your tips and experiences!

Hello,

First attempt at a travel journal for me and first post after 7 years away from this forum. 😮 I went to the island of La Palma for 15 days in September 2025. After visiting Lanzarote in February, I was looking for a different and greener island. Well, I wasn’t disappointed. 😎

We stayed in Breña Baja on the east coast of the island, 5 minutes from the airport. This choice was mainly motivated by the desire not to change accommodation during the stay and to be in a "central" location close to amenities. It worked out well, but if I were to do it again, I’d split the stay in two by getting another place in the north of the island to explore that area, which really appeals to me. Note that the island is "climatically divided in two": the west coast is sunnier and drier, while the east coast is often foggy or cloudy. It’s quite impressive when you come out of the LP-3 road tunnel connecting the two sides—you feel like you’ve changed regions even though it’s less than 3 km apart.

Flight options weren’t plentiful (no direct flights from France), so I went with Iberia, connecting in Madrid for 250 € round-trip per person excluding checked baggage (80 € round-trip for one 23 kg suitcase on this route). Make sure to buy the checked baggage at the same time as your flight, as it’ll cost about 15 € more if you add it later. I booked the tickets 5 months in advance directly on Iberia’s website. You could also take a low-cost airline to Tenerife or Gran Canaria and then a flight with a Canarian carrier, but in my opinion, that only makes sense if you’re visiting one of those islands first, as the connection isn’t "guaranteed." The ferry is an option from Tenerife (about 2.5 hours crossing).

Our departure from Lyon was initially scheduled for 6 AM but took off at 9 AM so the crew could rest after the late arrival of the previous flight. This let us grab breakfast on the airline’s dime—thanks, EU Regulation (EC) No 261/2004. 😉 Iberia took a week to reimburse me after I submitted my passport, receipts, and bank details via their online claim form.

Our small but spacious CRJ-1000 Air Nostrum Bye-bye, Bugey nuclear plant And hello, Madrid—or rather, its very dry region. Our layover was initially 4 hours but shrank to 1 hour due to the previous flight’s delay. That worked out for us because Terminal 4 at Barajas is way less comfortable for resting than Lyon’s T1.

Landing with a view of Playa de la Cangrejera and del Pozo. When I say the east coast is often cloudy... 😇 First sight of "plátano" plantations. Banana farming makes up 50% of the island’s GDP!

More to come soon. [;]

Hello, We (a couple aged 60 and 66) are arriving in Montreal on 09/21 to meet up with our son (on a working holiday). Our original plan was to spend the first 3 nights near Parc de la Mauricie, then 3 nights in Quebec City, and the following 3 near Parc des Hautes-Gorges-de-la-Malbaie. The 2 days we’d planned in each park were supposed to be for hiking (including the Acropole des Draveurs) and canoeing if possible. The issue is that I’ve recently developed frozen shoulder (capsulitis😕), and I likely won’t have recovered by the time we leave. So, we’re scrapping hikes with significant elevation gain, trekking poles, or any risk of falling. My question is: which hikes of 10–15 km max on easy terrain with beautiful views would you recommend? (We’ll be there in late September, hoping to catch the fall colors already!). For this type of hike, would it be better to swap Parc de la Mauricie for Réserve faunique des Laurentides, Parc de la Jacques-Cartier, or is Mauricie still okay? And should we replace Parc des Hautes-Gorges-de-la-Malbaie with Parc des Grands-Jardins? Are there spots easier than others for canoeing (I could get in the canoe with my son, but he’d be the only one paddling—I’m light, and he’s strong, but I don’t want to overdo it 😉). Or maybe pedal boats, if that’s still an option this season? Thanks for your advice after these unexpected changes of plans. Claire

Hello there,



As mentioned in the title, this is a travel journal focused on St. Lucia and iSimangaliso ("this place is miraculous" in Zulu) over various trips spanning about twenty years.

The Elephant Coast stretches from Hluhluwe Umfolozi, through St. Lucia and iSimangaliso, all the way to the Mozambique border near Kosi Bay and Tembe. This region was conquered by the Zulus (for context, in the 19th century, the Zulus were just one Bantu group among many—it was a local Napoleon, Shaka, who was both cruel and inventive, conquering and subjugating all other groups to form the Zulu nation). The Tonga were the big losers in this area, and a certain "animosity" is still very noticeable... With our two guides (one Zulu and the other Tonga), we ran into some Tonga folks—definitely not a warm atmosphere. The Tonga were pushed back into the marshes. Fish traps are their main source of wealth. (iSimangaliso is a lagoon and marshland area with several interconnected lakes—it used to be called Vetland Park, and for good reason.) So, lakes, fishing with fish traps...





Traditionally done with raffia boats



Made from forest raffia



Where we spotted a particularly rare and endemic bird (whose name I can’t remember... and I can’t be bothered to dig through my notes)

Here, those are eagles

And they’re pretty brave because... they’re not far away...





Yet we still swim there... with supervision...



So, between St. Lucia and Mozambique, you’ll find marshes, lagoons, lakes, and coastline, with our Tonga friends, Zulu friends, and—just a bit further up—the Tembe... and their king. (I’m showing off a bit because I got to see a king up close, ate in the same room as him, and even talked to him!)

Originally, the Boers tried to farm there... including sugarcane...

But... between the hippos, snakes, crocs, and malaria-carrying mosquitoes... They lost count of the deaths and disappearances.

The story goes that when Madiba (Mandela) came to power, he passed through the area and convinced them to turn it into a natural space that would attract tourists—and that’s when the big change happened.

And it’s pretty incredible to see how this place has evolved, going from extreme poverty to a certain level of gentrification... How this once "chaotic" area saw shops, roads, and housing spring up (I’m mainly talking about Mtubatuba, the nearby Black town). In fact, in St. Lucia now, the homes that aren’t tourist accommodations can be counted on one hand.

St. Lucia has become a "seaside resort"... very busy during school holidays and certain weekends, increasingly cosmopolitan (20 years ago, speaking French was exotic—now it’s completely ordinary).

Hi everyone,

We’re planning a family trip to Tokyo for late October 2026, and I’d love your advice on organizing this stay. Here’s some info to give you a better idea of our situation: • There’ll be two adults (one with a mild mobility impairment, which makes long walks tricky) and a child who’ll be 13 at the time. • We’d like to spend around 15 days there to explore temples, traditional Japanese culture, and, of course, the world of manga and video games.

My questions: 1. Weather in October: What’s the climate like during that period? Should we pack any specific clothing? 2. Flight bookings: When’s the best time to book? And, in your opinion, is it better to fly from Paris or Brussels? 3. Accommodation: We prefer Airbnb-style rentals or similar. Which neighborhoods do you recommend for good location without too much commuting? 4. Trip duration: Are 15 days enough for a first trip? 5. Accessibility: Any specific tips for someone who struggles with long walks (accessible transport, routes, etc.)? 6. Other recommendations: Must-visit spots in Tokyo (or nearby) for a family that loves manga, temples, and Japanese culture?

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed starting the preparations, so any advice or personal experiences would be super helpful. Thanks in advance for your help!

Looking forward to reading your replies, Sam

During these three big weeks in Madagascar, one week in Sainte Marie, a few days for a little loop in the west/south, and the rest in Tana. This loop I’m talking about covers an area I’d never taken the time to visit before. A recent road in good condition, the chance to pass through beautiful highland landscapes, and a few free days made it the perfect opportunity. Destination: Ampefy, west of Tana via the RN1, then a turn south onto the recently rehabilitated RN43 to reach Antsirabe before heading back to Tana. Four days planned—perfect, since an extra day wouldn’t have been a problem given all the activities in Ampefy.

First day: a relaxed and fairly late departure for Ampefy. We weren’t in a rush and took our time. Traffic leaving Tana to get back on the RN1 cost us the head start we had on our original schedule. An hour and a half bumper-to-bumper with the *buxis*, inching painfully toward the roundabout and then the bridge that acts as a bottleneck—we dove in like all our fellow sufferers. It’s not our everyday reality, and we were early, so no big deal, but man, it’s long and slow. Once past that obstacle, traffic flowed smoothly, and the road was good (all the way to Ampefy). We moved through highland landscapes, bustling villages full of activity, and countless agricultural supply shops—clear proof, if any were needed, that we were crossing a prime farming region. Around Arivonimamo, we passed through a forest with a Mediterranean vibe: a single-species forest of stout little trees with glossy, elongated light-green leaves—these are *tapia*. An endemic tree in Madagascar, and a pretty unique forest as a result (you can see them elsewhere, like between Antsirabe and Ambositra). There are efforts to protect it from illegal logging because the wood is fire-resistant, which helps shield the forest from wildfires. Beyond its biodiversity value, the *tapia* hosts silkworms, giving it economic and cultural importance.

As we kept going, we started spotting a lake and mountains with the rounded shapes typical of extinct volcanoes worn down by time and the elements. We were approaching Lake Itasy and, by extension, Ampefy. We stopped at a *hotely* for a plate of *tongon’kisoa*—pig’s trotters caramelized by cooking, with thick, flavorful skin—along with the obligatory portion of rice, which we took the time to drizzle with cooking juices to make it a bit more appetizing. Full, we turned left to reach Ampefy and our hotel. The landscape was dotted with collapsed, dormant volcanic cones, and suddenly, the view opened up onto the lake. Shallow and expansive, we followed it, losing sight of it now and then before finding it again in Ampefy itself, which we entered after crossing the Lily, a beautiful river that drains the lake. Lots of hotels and restaurants, with plenty of options at all price points. We chose the *Farihy*, about 5 km past Ampefy. A gorgeous spot by the lake, with a pool and lovely bungalows—some with picture windows overlooking the lake. Really nice. In the evening, a drink and some *sak sak* for aperitif on the terrace. It wasn’t warm, there was a lot of wind, and a storm was brewing. Off to bed quickly to start the next day’s visits.

After buying some lychees—we hadn’t seen many this year, and these were fresh from the field, picked in Ampefy—we headed to the Lily Falls. Well signposted, with a paved road in great condition, we stopped at the kiosk for the entrance fee and parking (1 euro for one *vahiny* and 10 cents for one Malagasy). We set off down the path and quickly reached the first waterfall, then continued for maybe 1 km on a well-marked trail to the second. A guide led us to the third, which is harder to spot and isn’t actually on the Lily itself. Beautiful countryside scenery: fishermen straight out of *Tom Sawyer*, straw hats on their heads, lying down with one foot hooked to a fragile bamboo rod, their line dipping into the calm river. Men preparing rice paddies with their *angady*, women transplanting rice, bent over the water. At some points, we walked along the dikes between paddies almost ready for harvest. It’s peaceful and beautiful when you’re strolling or fishing, but working the paddies is grueling, especially under that beating sun. A really nice walk—2 hours and a bit, going at a leisurely pace. A guide isn’t mandatory; only the entrance fee is. We took one because it provides a bit of work and puts money in the hands of locals, giving them more incentive to protect the site. But you can easily skip it, like most people do. Lots of visitors since it was the weekend—Tananarivians with family or groups of young people, scout groups organized under their chaperones’ direction. Very few foreign tourists, though—that’s a general observation. It’s great to see this growth in domestic tourism, giving Malagasy people the chance to discover their own country and allowing those in the sector to rely less on foreign visitors, who’ve been scarce for years.

Next, we headed to the "geysers" (which aren’t actually geysers, but whatever). We had to go back to the RN1, head toward Tsiroanomandidy, and a few kilometers later, a well-marked sign and a newly paved track led us to a pretty site. Again, lots of people, another kiosk, more fees to pay, and guides available. This time, we skipped the guide. A downpour caught us in front of the "geysers," so we took shelter under a little shop, grabbing an ice cream and some drinks. We didn’t stay long—we weren’t interested in a massage or a dip in the thermal water. The countryside and barren mountain landscapes were stunning on the way back to the hotel. We noticed you could go paragliding right in front of the bungalow, so we booked a session for the next morning. After eating at the *Auberge* in the town center (it was good), we headed back to the hotel to turn in early. Once again, a storm rolled in during the afternoon, and the temperature dropped significantly.

The next morning, around 8 a.m., we walked to the takeoff zone near the hotel. Towed by a small boat, we took off for a flight over the lake and the volcanic domes before landing back at the same spot. Two companies handle this. I’m no expert, but it seemed safe and well-organized.

To be continued...

Arrival at Luang Prabang Airport: Got my visa on the spot in under 5 minutes, but it cost me $40 + $1 for some "processing fee" and a photo. First ATM withdrawal of the maximum allowed—about 82 €! Luckily, I had euros on me because each withdrawal comes with a fixed fee of 30,000 kips (like in Thailand, where it’s 200 baht per withdrawal, but here you can take out up to 800 €!). Then I took the airport taxi service for 100,000 kips per person. It’s a minivan that drops passengers (8–10) at their hotels. The ticket booth is right at the exit—easy to spot with a sign that says "Taxi Service."

I left Luang Prabang for Nong Khiaw by minivan, paying 180,000 kips. A big tuk-tuk taxi picked us up at the hotel at 8:40 AM, and we picked up more people along the way until we reached a small minivan station. Our "minivan" was *very* mini—we still managed to squeeze in 12 people, with 2 up front + the driver, even though there wasn’t really space for 2 full seats—more like 1.5! Luggage was strapped to the roof under a tarp for the trip. Scheduled to leave at 9 AM, we finally took off at 9:30. The ride took 4 hours and 15 minutes from station to station—roads were rough, sometimes unpaved, and always full of potholes. This route is mostly used by trucks registered in China. We passed the dam that now blocks boat traffic between Luang Prabang and Nong Khiaw. About 40 km from Nong Khiaw, we turned off the main road onto a smaller one, less crowded with trucks but still rough. At the Nong Khiaw bus station, a shared taxi was waiting to drop everyone off at their hotels. I walked to mine—the Nam Ou View Villa, about 600 meters from the station. Nice room with a great view of the river.

Nong Khiaw is easy to explore on foot. One unpaved road runs along the river, lined with hotels and restaurants with terraces, while a parallel paved road has little traffic and all the shops. I loved the vibe and tranquility of the town. There are plenty of guesthouses, especially on the other side of the bridge. Restaurants everywhere, all in a calm atmosphere. I hiked up to the highest viewpoint—there are several. The climb is supposed to take 1.5 hours, but it took me 2. Time to enjoy the nature and catch my breath! No real difficulty, just a *lot* of uphill. There’s a small toll at the start of the climb—I don’t remember the exact amount, but it wasn’t expensive. The view at the top is stunning—360°! Mornings are cloudy, midday is usually clear, and evenings are all about the sunset ☀️. The descent was tougher for me—guaranteed sore muscles!

I also walked along the Nam Ou toward Muang Ngoi. The road is quiet and unpaved but often narrow with no views. Small villages along the way. In town, you can rent canoes, and agencies offer day trips or multi-day excursions. There are shops, a bank, and 2 ATMs.

Departure for Muang Ngoi—a village only accessible by private or public boat. I took the 11:30 AM public boat (sold as 11 AM) for 70,000 kips. There were so many of us that two boats were needed, and we were still packed in! We left 40 minutes late because the ticket collector didn’t check anything, and one ticket was missing. Of course, everyone insisted they’d paid—which was probably true, given the general disorganization. The trip took 1 hour and 5 minutes, going upstream against the current. Gorgeous.

Arriving at Muang Ngoi’s tiny dock, hotel owners were waiting for their guests or offering rooms to those without reservations. I’d booked the Riverview Bungalows & GH. The room was a bit worn but comfortable, and the view was amazing!

Muang Ngoi has ONE recently paved main street—all other paths are red dirt and dusty, perfect for unguided day hikes. I *loved* this village. People live their lives without worrying much about tourists, who aren’t too numerous yet. There’s no bank or ATM, and dollars are accepted (even preferred) for transport and hotels. Watch the condition of your bills—the hotelier refused one with a tiny stain I hadn’t even noticed! There are travel agencies for excursions, small shops... I often ate at Gecko (Western food, I admit) and across the street at Vita, which serves a delicious local dish called *Suzy*—a curry-like specialty. From Muang Ngoi, there are plenty of easy hikes. The trails are simple to find and follow, except for those crossing rice fields. Maps.Me helped me stay on track.

If you don’t want to walk, there are very local transport options: modified tractors with platforms for passengers and luggage. I took an excursion to Sopchem, a small village 40 minutes away by boat. I paid $20 round-trip for two people on a private boat. The ride was stunning—the river cuts through mountains in this section. Sopchem is tiny but charming, especially for buying textiles. Every house has a loom out front and a display selling their work. I bought two scarves for 60,000 kips each without bargaining—it seemed like a steal. Back in Luang Prabang, I saw the same scarves in a fancy boutique for 55,000 kips each—9 or 10 times the price!!!!

I also tried the village laundry service—everywhere lists the price as 25,000 kips per kilo. I picked the closest one to my hotel and watched from my balcony as the woman washed my clothes in the river, then hung them on her fence all day in the dust! Turns out only hotels have washing machines. Better to postpone laundry or do it yourself—my clothes didn’t smell great afterward!

For the return to Luang Prabang, I splurged on a private transfer. An agency at the dock arranged it for $100. I took the public boat to Nong Khiaw, where a driver was waiting. His vehicle was a pickup truck, and the trip took 4 hours total to my hotel in the city center. I recommend this agency (Lattanavongsa Tour Adventure)—very professional. They also run a hotel (same name) that looked nice from the outside, though not riverfront.

In Luang Prabang, I did the Mekong sunset cruise. Departed at 4:30 PM with Sasa Sunset Cruise for 245,000 kips, including one drink and spring rolls. I was lucky to see a beautiful sunset—I don’t regret it. I also visited the tiny Traditional Arts and Ethnology Centre—very interesting for learning about Laos’ ethnic groups and textile traditions, but *very* small. Of course, I visited the temples and wandered the alleys to admire the stunning houses. The sunset at Mount Phousi was nice, but *so* crowded! The night market is fun but not super interesting—vendors sell pretty much the same things you’ll find in daytime shops at the same prices. There are two food courts, one huge at the end of the market. I love the concept, but the quality of the stalls is debatable.

Luang Prabang The morning alms-giving ceremony for monks is called *Tak Bat*. This ritual has turned into a circus for Chinese tourists. I’d visited Luang Prabang 15 years ago and didn’t find the same serenity in the ceremony. In Luang Prabang, I exchanged euros at BFL BRED Bank (recommended in the *Routard* guide). Good rates and a smooth transaction. The employee spoke excellent French and offered me deals on the Sasa sunset cruise (with dinner) and a taxi to the airport. I took her up on the taxi—it was much cheaper. She explained that she works evenings at Sasa Sunset Cruise and the taxi driver is her husband.

Hope this gives you some practical tips for your next trip!

Imagine a peaceful fishing village, completely transformed by artists who worked their magic on the walls of 100 residential houses. That’s the remarkable story of the Tam Thanh mural village in Quang Nam province. Once similar to many other coastal villages in the area, it now firmly stands out on the tourist map for a day trip from Hoi An. In the summer of 2016, Tam Thanh was selected by a Korean-Vietnamese joint project called Art For A Better Community. The village was chosen to be their blank canvas, inspired by the success of mural villages in Korea. The project aimed to make Tam Thanh the first painted village of its kind in Vietnam. The joint project included five Korean artists and seven Vietnamese artists, along with local volunteers. They aimed to show Vietnamese people that art could be part of everyday life, no matter where you stand in society. The effort began with about three weeks of wall washing, followed by painting the walls of over 100 residents' houses. The project was a success, and the village came alive with the paintings. The entire village is now a breathtaking gallery just waiting to be explored. The murals capture the life and soul of the village—from young children playing to fishermen in the ocean. A mix of fantastic pieces offers stunning backdrops for photos. The painted art around the town didn’t just have a visual impact; it also had a social one. The village itself was chosen not only for the layout of the houses but also to contribute to economic development opportunities in Tam Thanh. Tourists now visit the once-overlooked village, creating more income for locals and making it a successful "art for a cause" project. For example, an entrepreneurial resident who owned a small local café invested 1,000,000 VND ($390 USD) in a sugarcane press a week before the paintings were completed. Sugarcane juice vendors then multiplied with the growth of tourism (5,000 VND - $0.20 USD). Walking down the village’s single street, it’s common to find locals selling refreshments and handmade crafts. In one house in particular, a tailor and his family are painted on an outer wall with incredible detail. The family started selling tote bags decorated by their young daughter. The asking price for the bags is 100,000 VND ($4 USD). If you’re looking for a way to support the village’s economy, this is it. Since there’s no middleman here, you can be sure your money goes directly to the community. Since the project’s completion, two other villages in the province have now been painted. The new mural villages were created with different local Vietnamese artists to raise awareness about each community’s issues. Tam Hai Island was redecorated to highlight the serious waste problem the population faces due to the lack of treatment plants. Another village on An Binh Island was painted to raise awareness among locals and tourists about the importance of environmental protection. How to get there Route No. 1: Cross the large Cua Dai bridge. Once you’ve crossed it, continue onto Duong 129/Duong Ven Bien. Stay on this road for 33 kilometers. Upside: this route has light traffic, no traffic lights, and no trucks or buses. It’s a great direct route to the village but offers little to see. You’ll eventually reach a crossroads. Turn right toward Tam Ky town, while the left will take you toward the mural village; stay on Road 608 as it turns twice before reaching a bridge. Cross the bridge, and you’ll arrive at Thanh Nien Road. Finally, turn right to reach the village. This route takes about an hour. Route #2: Cross the large Cua Dai bridge. Once you’ve crossed it, continue onto Duong 129/Duong Ven Bien. Stay on this road for 12 kilometers, then turn left onto Road 613, where you’ll continue for 1.5 kilometers until you reach Thanh Nien Road. Finally, turn right and drive 23 kilometers to the painted village. For most of the trip, taking Thanh Nien Road will take you through a much more local part of the region. The journey takes about an hour and a half.

Hi everyone,

I recently read a graphic novel called Hippie Trail about travel, which came with a playlist (available on a site via QR code, but that’s not the main point). The music is from the 60s/70s, and we all know the classics from that era on the theme of the road (or at least I imagine so). That’s why I thought I’d ask you for your ideal playlist—with some more recent and lesser-known tracks. I was thinking of a list of ten songs, as varied as possible, to broaden our horizons (that’s the point of travel, right?). So: old and new songs, hits and hidden gems, tracks in French or other languages, sounds from the West, the East, Africa, the Americas, or elsewhere—jazz, classical, rock… Personally, I’ll admit I’m not super musically cultured, which is why I’m turning to you to help fill in the gaps

Here’s my On the Road playlist (no particular order):

- Hit the Road Jack, by Ray Charles - In the Steppes of Central Asia, by Borodin - Barcarolle, by Offenbach - Al Otro Lado Del Río, by Jorge Drexler - Nationale 7, by Charles Trenet - On ira, by Zaz - On the Road Again, by Bernard Lavilliers - Emmenez-moi, by Charles Aznavour - Sur la route, by Raphaël - Clandestino, by Manu Chao

What’s yours?

bonjour nous allons a flic en flac en janvier nous cherchons une societe tres fiable et de confiance pour nous faire decouvrir l ile maurice sans etre arnaque