Results for "Nattes+|+122+>+63"

Bjr à tous,

Qui a déja voyagé avec une de ses 2 compagnies et comment sont elles ? Via Punta cana . qui déserne le plus ? qualité de services à bord ?

MERCI ENCORE A TOUS.

Salut à tous les lecteurs 😉

Je viens de finir "On a roulé sur la Terre" et "La marche dans le ciel" de Sylvain Tesson et Alexandre Poussin. Deux grandes aventures humaines narrées par deux grands voyageurs simples et audacieux. A lire absolument ces deux livres écrits dans un style impeccable, foisonnant de détails, riche en humour, en émotions, en anecdotes et rencontres.

Dépaysement assuré !!!!

Beub

Qui a déjà fait ce festival de Musique Classique? J'aimerais bien m'y rendre cette année. Au programme: Borodine et Chostakovitch. Sans oublier Bach.

A bientôt.

JiBi

salut

est ce que quelqu'un a deja fait le chemin de compostelle (800 klm de l'espagne a la france) a pied.

est ce que ca en vaut la peine et quel son les herbergements disponible.

quel son les point d'interet (sauf le cote spirituel)

merci

phil

je pars en pologne en Aout, faut-il un passeport ? la carte d'identité est-elle suffisante ?

nous allons à Gizycho dans le nord, ce n'est pas loin de la Russie, comment y aller ?

Bonjour,

Je voudrai joindre Vienne à Budapest en vélo fin Aout ou début septembre.

Je cherche des informations sur le meilleur itinéraire ( suivre le danuble?) et sur les hébergements ( camping, hotels pas chers)

D'autre part, quelqu'un(e) serait il intéressée par ce voyage sachant que je passerai 2 jours à Vienne et autant à Budapest pour visiter et que j'envisage de passer 4 à 5 jours sur la route avec une moyenne d'environ 60 kms par jour.

Merci par avance pour vos réponses

Alors voilà. J'ai des amis qui compte aller au rassemblement Rainbow Family en Bulgarie cet été. Et j'aimerai savoir ce que vous en savez et votre opinion personnel.

Moi ce que j'en sais : c'est un rassemblement de personnes qui a lieu regulierement dans le monde entier. Il n'a aucun but precis si ce n'est de regrouper des gens.

J'aimerai aussi savoir Qu'est-ce qu'il faut prévoir (là bas pour ceux qu'ils connaissent) pour faire le trajet Nantes-Bulgarie avec pour seul moyende transport des chausses voir le stop.

Merci.

Mojenn

🤪 merci à tous ceux qui connaissent la Crète de nous conseiller sur le climat en été, avez-vous de bons plans pour des locations? quels sont les plus jolis endroits calmes et assez authentiques? Des enfants de 13 et 15 ans aimeront-ils?

merci encore de nous aider!😊

Salut!

Je recherche des sites de personnes ayant mis en place des projets éducatifs en amérique latine (dans écoles, centres de jeunes, etc.). J'aimerais monter un tel projet et recherche des témoignages...

Merci d'avance!

quelqu'un a-il des renseignements concernant le contenu du sac à dos pour un tel périple

Je pars en mai pour 2 mois.

Merci de tous les renseignements que vous pouvez me donner.

Mon épouse et moi prévoyons aller en France en juillet 2004. Nous voulons visiter le sud de la France, la Provence, et notre quatrième semaine voulons rester à Paris. je me demandais s'il est préférable pour visiter de louer une auto ou utiliser les transports public?

Nous souhaiterions voyager 15 jours à Pâques avec nos 3 enfants : 7 mois, 5 et 7 ans. Quelles destinations seraient les plus adaptées si on exclut des temps de vol trop long (pour un bébé). Nous avions expérimenté la Guadeloupe l'an dernier à la même époque, c'est vrai que les (2) enfants avaient beaucoup aimé (l'eau chaude, etc.). Quid de l'Andalousie, la Tunisie, voire la Thaïlande ?

Merci, Pierre

Bonjour à tous!

D'abord, merci d'avance pour toutes réponses que vous allez m'offrir!:)

Ceci dit, je suis québécois et je pars pour la France le 4 décembre et je reviens le 24 décembre. C'est mon premier voyage!!!!:D

J'ai des préoccupations au sujet de la température que je dois prévoir affronter. Aussi en rapport au fait que je ne tomberai certainement pas dans la saison touristique... Je me demande donc si je ne serai pas limitté, ou au contraire, dans les activités que j'entreprendras!?

Mon itinéraire général et qui reste à être conffirmé par ma spontanéité rendu là-bas est :

Arrivée à Paris. Visite de quelques trucs que je ne veux pas y manquer; suivi de Nantes où des gens que je ne connais pas m'attendent... (Je peux vous expliquer au besoin:P) à Bordeau, le même scénario. Je veux voir le château de Versaille et ceux de la Loire.

Pour le reste, c'est si j'ai du temps.

Mes préoccupations sont de voir du beau pays(Architectures, châteaux, paysage, gens...), déguster du vin et développer des contacts avec des gens (parce que je pars seul).

Avec cette vue d'ensemble, tous ceux qui peuvent ajouter quelque chose seront les très bienvenus! MERCI!!!

Pascal

Bonjour,

Je vais partir avec mon portable, destination Thailande, Birmanie, Indonesie, et eventuellement, Laos, Cambodge, Vietnam. Je dois d'apres vous le declarer ou pas? Vous l'avez deja fait?

Merci pour vos reponses.

Bonjour, Je voulais partir au Maroc la semaine suivant le 08 Novembre, hors, je me suis aperçu que c'est la pèriode du RAMADAN. Je comptait prendre un séjour vol+hotel en demi-pension, faire du 4x4, Quad, chameau... Pensez-vous que cela est tout de même possible. Y'at t-il d'autres informations a savoir pour cette periode ? Est-ce que ça vaut le coup ? merci a tous

Quelqu'un peut-il me dire si les horaires de retour de Punta Cana avec la compagnie Star Airlines son en principe respectés car je dois réserver mon billet de retour sur Lyon en TGV.et eventuellement d'autres conseils.

D'avance merci

Quelqu'un a -t-il déjà fait ce genre de voyage que l'on trouve sur certains sites de voyages dégriffés ??? Ca me tente pour Septembre. merci

Hi there,

I’m planning to cycle from Morlaix to Brest (via Roscoff and the V45 coastal route). We’ll start riding on August 16th for 13 days (with stops for island visits, surfing, etc.). Is there a lot of traffic at this time of year? I’ve got two kids, 11 and 13, and we don’t like riding in the middle of cars (we’ve already done the Vélomaritime—Caen to Cherbourg—the Loire route from Orléans to Saumur, the Vélodyssée from Nantes to Royans, and the canals like the Nivernais and Bourgogne, where there were plenty of bike-only lanes, which isn’t the case on this route).

Thanks for your help if you’ve already done this route in late August! Virginie

It’s never too late to live intensely. I’m Guy, I’ve passed 70, and I’m looking for a female travel companion for an extraordinary adventure aboard OTONOMI—a solar-powered tandem I built with my own hands over two years. My past is that of an unrepentant traveler: crossing the Atlantic in an ultralight aircraft, swimming across channels, and a high-level sailing record in major transatlantic races... OTONOMI isn’t a retiree’s whim—it’s the final chapter of a life of adventure, perhaps the most beautiful one. Departure at the end of May. Route: Europe to Baku, crossing the Caspian by ferry, then Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, the Pamir, Kyrgyzstan, and return via Kazakhstan. At least 3-4 months. No need to be athletic—a session of *longe côte* (coastal walking) requires more physical effort than a full day on OTONOMI. You don’t even have to pedal at all. OTONOMI tows a foldable solar-powered caravan trailer—camping under the stars or staying in small local hotels, depending on your mood. Road expenses are shared simply. I’m looking for a free-spirited woman, curious, passionate about genuine encounters and wide-open spaces—appearance or insecurities don’t matter. Just that flame still burning inside you. A real-life test run is planned before departure—so we can meet naturally, without pressure. 📩 guy.otonomi@outlook.fr

There exists a rare land where life expresses itself, a land where everything is destroyed, patched up, where everything is dirty and faded, yet paradoxically, each passing day is synonymous with light and joy. Seen from the sea, magnified by its translucent waters, the island is splendid; seen from inland, ochre and green dress a landscape one would wish to be pristine. As you approach the coast with the tides, countless boat wrecks never finish dying; returning from a hike, you know you’re nearing the city by the increasingly obvious proliferation of all kinds of trash. Overflowing the towns, makeshift homes made of corrugated iron stand here and there, wherever the eye lands; from a height, looking toward the horizon, you find the calm blue of the ocean and the beauty of infinity.

But where does all this corrugated iron come from? Blue, gray, red, or black, you find it pretty much everywhere—except, of course, on the island’s heights, where the heat is such that all life seems impossible. Yet, a few kilometers from the capital, more than an hour’s walk away, the corrugated iron is very much there, omnipresent, guaranteeing a land registry as hypothetical for us Europeans as it is very real for those who live there, far from civilization and comfort. I keep climbing. I’m precisely looking to meet these people who live on very little, if not nothing.

- Jéjé Mogné (Hello, sir in Shimahorais)! Where do you get water here, in this place? How do you drink, irrigate your plants?

- I wait for the rain. We have tanks that fill up well with each rainfall. But right now, it’s not raining much.

At the top of the next hill, lost in the bushes, it’s easier for me to guess the distant city, Mamoudzou, than the rest of the path, a remnant of a magnificent GR called the Island Tour, abandoned for the most part, sometimes maintained between two lost hamlets. The city, the pulse, water. Below, the ocean, running water, drinking water—despite regular interruptions; here, up high, an hour and a half’s walk away, tanks, arbitrariness. On other slopes, however, during another hike, I saw the water supply network, made of sturdy pipes tangled in the earth, right there by the path. It seems there are places where water climbs. Others not. Each to their own karma. In 2025. In a French department.

A path of misfortune, lost and regained, thanks to a sign, an inscription, or the compass’s directions. No one walks here anymore, except those who live here or come to harvest their crops. I remember that breathtaking hike in 2013, when I connected Bandrélé to Mamoudzou, passing by the peaks of Bénara (660m) and Bépilipili (643m), barely pausing at Tsararano and Vahibé: 34 km of intense effort on a rollercoaster path, along a trail that was still discernible. Today, it’s as if everything had disappeared. By also destroying the paths and vegetation, Chido* broke the last momentum of these cautious hikers: insecurity has made its way across the archipelago, and Sunday strolls are no longer the norm. Me, I keep going. I will have walked here and there during these three weeks to get an idea of the places, the people, the landscapes, and the superhuman effort required to move forward in over 40°C. To tell the truth, during my last hike, I cut my plans short and let myself be carried by a group of young people heading back to the city. The path is now just an inextricable network of small trails, the specter of Providence** comes to mind. True wisdom is knowing when to give up. I leave.

* A cyclone named "desire" (in Shona), which ravaged the island of Mayotte on December 14, 2024. ** June 2023, a very poorly prepared hike on Providence Island (Caribbean) from which I miraculously escaped.

On Petite-Terre, Marie takes me to visit some locals, white people who have lived there for a long time and make a living from their art; jewelry for her, all kinds of objects for him. We love this little shop, this oasis amid the chaos that embodies Dostoevsky’s phrase: "Beauty will save the world." It’s clean and tidy, beautiful, well-kept. Invariably, the question of insecurity resurfaces in the middle of the conversation. The woman says:

- I know someone who slipped in their bathtub. Still, I keep taking baths…

So, is this insecurity a myth or reality? I hear stories that are often true but sometimes seemingly exaggerated through the lens of misunderstanding and one-upmanship. Like that of this midwife assaulted one evening (it gets dark early) on her way home from work. Sometimes she was attacked on the path, dragged by the hair for several meters, sometimes she made it home, but it was her roommate who let the two men in. One version talks about a snatched phone and gratuitous violence, another about violence outright. In short, one thing is certain: walking around at night flaunting your phone isn’t a good idea, no more in Mamoudzou than in the rough neighborhoods of Nantes. Also, I played it safe: nothing flashy, nothing bling-bling, and always something to give if needed. I was never approached. It’s not easy to get a sense of the realities, between the hazy reports from journalists sensationalizing everything and the real lives of real people. But I know I can’t rely on these few ideas I’ve formed: I’m nobody, and above all, I don’t live here. What I do know, however, is that since my last visit to the island in 2017, over 80,000 babies have been born, and tens of thousands of immigrants have reached the archipelago’s shores. What’s also obvious is that poverty, hunger, and—let’s say it—indignity foster delinquency and insecurity. So, without taking journalists’ alarmist speeches at face value, we’ll try to keep in mind that a young person rendered orphaned by circumstances (parents expelled), poor and often hungry, involved more or less against their will in village wars and fueled by synthetic drugs*, will readily turn to violence when they truly have nothing to lose. We can trace the origin of this despair to the fact that in Mayotte, those without legal existence have virtually no hope of accessing anything.

* "Chimique" is a series of synthetic cannabinoids

Meanwhile, in the evening, it’s good to go home before the time of stone-throwing. From time to time, along the roads, gangs throw stones at vehicles and school buses, but mostly at police cars—almost all the white Dusters on the island! In front of the Mamoudzou police station, all parked vehicles—mostly Dusters—bear the scars of these attacks. Maybe it’s only at night that gangs unleash and all the burglaries happen? I saw nothing, heard nothing. I lived three weeks in a sort of bunker with no real access to outside light, protected by a fake wooden door doubled with a real metal door, both locked at all times. You don’t tempt fate. You endure it differently.

Today, extraordinarily, it’s raining. Yet, it’s the rainy season! But with my karma helping (what selfishness to want to walk dry when so many souls live off the rain) or is it climate change? The rain only falls once I’ve put on my horrible green pajamas. In front of the board outlining the program, I’m told that out of the six scheduled C-sections today (sic), they’ll probably only do two, maybe three. Because it’s raining. And when it rains, people don’t move around. Not for lack of will. Rather, for lack of means. And that ties into those sad days when the police patrol around the hospital: patients don’t come. They’ll come back tomorrow. To compensate, I’m happy at the thought of tackling the abscess program, but the sterilization unit is acting up and blocking the instrument trays. When it’s not the rain, it’s the unions. And when both finally quiet down, there’s always someone to find fault with the order of operations. You have to imagine an operating room where the question of urgency reigns supreme. Here, no surgery is scheduled more than 24 hours in advance—only emergencies, nothing but emergencies. So, following that reasonable adage that what’s done is no longer to be done, it’s sheer madness when the rain meets the interests of Force Ouvrière and the bad will of some combines with the laziness of others. To tell the truth, I’ve never seen so much energy expended to… do nothing. Hallucinating. But who am I, a small-time striver, an islander in my spare time, a temporary worker at the end of the world? I came, I saw, I was disappointed? Not really. Here again, I can’t judge a system in so little time. I can barely utter a few bitter words in front of obvious facts. But nothing will take away my joy of being here for three weeks. Here, they heal with somewhat outdated but still functional means. You do what you can with what you have, 8,000 km from the Métropole. Yes, the operating room doors hesitate, and the operating tables stutter, but in this blessed period, we lack neither medicines nor supplies. So we examine, anesthetize, and repair, far more undocumented people than French—if I may play with somewhat borderline statistics here; we deliver babies, dress wounds, and relieve pain in this hospital at the end of the world where neither white women nor Mahorais women would ever consider giving birth or getting treated.

What’s the solution? The obstetrician talks to the woman during a C-section under spinal anesthesia:

- Bouéni! (Madame, in Shimahorais) You need to think about tubal ligation. This is your fourth C-section. Your uterus is like tissue paper. Your next pregnancy will be very risky.

No answer. Culture. It’s all about culture. The funniest thing is that France also gets bogged down with the idea of other cultures’… cultures. The woman in question arrived illegally a few years ago to give birth to her first child. Since then, rejecting the very idea of contraception—her husband, for his part, will invoke God or Allah to refuse a vasectomy—she comes back every 12-14 months. And the obstetrician explains to me how his idea of making information about permanent contraception mandatory was deemed racist by associations. It’s always the same story. I suggest to the associations that they take charge of all these extra births, not only the medical costs but also the entire education, not just financial, of all these children doomed to live a life of misery on this forsaken archipelago. The probability that one of these offspring will emerge as a gifted, sensitive, and fiercely happy individual must truly be weighed against the degradation and abandonment that will invariably afflict the thousands of others living around him. In reality, simply mentioning a very real danger to the mother should be enough to impose sterilization. But we are a country whose greatness of soul is measured by the number of heads cut off to uphold the famous rights of man... Already a proponent at home of ending family allowances after the third child—you can’t subscribe to a certain idea of society and, at the same time, accept that tens of thousands of children are sacrificed on the altar of thoughtlessness and financial interest*—I will weakly advocate here for a controlled right to have children. Well, what will they say about me when I express the idea of imposing sterilization on women in irregular situations after the birth of their third child? National solidarity funds the noblest ideals? In Mayotte? Let’s be serious. It’s so much easier to hide behind the inalienable right of women to control their bodies than to acknowledge one’s own powerlessness to assume the consequences of such a policy. Because after 18 years of struggles as a second-class citizen, the young stateless person will have no choice but to live in hiding: faced with the impossibility of claiming birthright citizenship**, they will be deportable. In Mayotte, there aren’t enough schools, not enough housing, not enough projects for youth, not enough jobs, not enough money, not enough future… In Mayotte, an average of 5 children are born per woman. In reality, we never ask about the right of children to control their own lives.

* Single parent with 4 children: RSA at 1937 € + family allowances… ** Law of May 12, 2025 aiming to strengthen the conditions for accessing French nationality in Mayotte.

I live in the city in a clean apartment where air conditioning eases my aches and sweat, and where water flows abundantly, thanks to huge tanks that fill up between water cuts. On the hills of Koungou, I was struck by this image: there, women (a matriarchal society?) do the dishes in a miserable stream. Upstream of the same stream, the same image as downstream: disgusting water with bits of foam floating on it. A little further, however, there are taps with running water that children play with. Strange. In any case, water is a question. They tell me it’s drinkable; I doubt it. A system that’s regularly cut doesn’t seem reliable to me. In any case, I can’t help but think of the Canary Islands and their chronic water shortage, especially in Lanzarote. Without entering the debate on desalination plants—I’m quite ignorant about environmental repercussions—I’ll just say that in the Canary Islands, you can buy 8 L jugs of purified water for less than 2 €. Here, in Mayotte, the price of water—as is the price of gasoline—is the same everywhere: 0.65 € for a bottle of Cristaline (1 €/L)*. While I was walking up there with a couple of farmers shuttling between two remote spots, I know I hit the mark by offering them one of my two bottles I’d brought for the occasion.

* At home, we find Cristaline at 1.14 € for a 9 L pack, i.e., 0.13 € per liter.

Outside, everything is broken, abandoned, old, worn, torn, faded, heavy, dirty, forsaken. But life goes on. And that’s fascinating. At home, at 5:45 PM, people close their shutters and watch cable TV, sometimes late into the night, emptying the streets of any salutary clamor, unwittingly extinguishing the necessary pulse of life. At home, we die of boredom. In Mamoudzou, between two dying trash cans, metal frames laid on the ground are covered by the elements of a broken garden set. A bare concrete staircase, without railings, provides access to the upper floor of a dwelling. On the steps, you can read: Private space - Please take your trash with you. Metal rods protrude from the said dwelling. On the ground, it’s a festival of screws and nails… A cat passes by. It doesn’t look great. A madwoman crosses the street dancing. A slightly hurried driver brakes. A six- or seven-year-old boy comes out in his underwear from his low house made of corrugated iron. He smiles. He’s having fun doing acrobatic figures over an old mattress on the sidewalk. Forward roll, backward roll. You wonder if he eats enough. Different culture. Different customs.

I will remember for a long time this blinding morning light, a raw, vital, striking light. I almost forgot where I came from, the grayness and boredom of that continental European country where nothing really happens anymore. Here, I could join Camus, contemplating these people placed halfway between misery and the sun, resigned for the most part and, for the other part, not too unhappy with their lot. But the Mahorais discourse is unanimous: "France really screwed us over!" Today, more than half of the island’s inhabitants are undocumented; a tremendous amount of energy is spent expelling 20,000 to 25,000 of them each year; colossal sums are swallowed up to care for all these people, and the island is drifting. I talk with some gendarmes. One of them tells me:

- They intercept one kwassa* out of three… Can you explain to me why they can’t catch everyone? It’s 2025! Can’t they put the necessary boats in place?

Clearly, and this is also my opinion, this whole mess serves interests beyond us. For who can believe for a second that this glaring incompetence isn’t orchestrated? Shared interests between secret France and the Union of the Comoros? A desire to bring insecurity to its peak, either by the Comoros to eventually take back control of Mayotte, or by our own government, in a deliberate effort to see all the white people leave the archipelago and let the Mahorais fend for themselves? At one point, I’m even told about an extraordinary deposit beneath Mayotte’s soil, a promise of infinite wealth**. Not to infringe on human rights, to do some cleaning from time to time, to calm things down to avoid implosion, while waiting to go after this providential bounty? Decidedly, Mayotte hasn’t said its last word!

*What’s paradoxical is that in the early 2010s, to revive traditional fishing activity, the UN financed in Anjouan the construction of a factory to produce these light boats, 7-10m long and 1m wide, which largely served the interests of smugglers. This skiff owes its name to a Congolese dance known for being as rhythmic as it is jerky, much like the navigation experience offered during a crossing to Mayotte. ** A 2025 study revealed the existence of a gigantic magmatic reservoir located 23km beneath the archipelago. If the Icelandic experiment succeeds (Project KMT, see here), Mayotte will then possess almost unlimited energy.

Hell on earth. Paradise at sea. The world’s largest lagoon offering spectacular marine depths, Mayotte’s coral reef suffers less from the abundance of tourists* than from tropical storms**. So, let’s admit that Mayotte is best appreciated when approached from the lagoon. The heights are for old hands like me. The sea spray is rather for the snobs who shun the sun god Ra, risking too much exposure and ending up on sick leave for sunstroke! But I’m not exclusive: I twice don my snob attire and head out to tackle the waves, the seabeds, and the elusive. Because yes, underwater, we leave our landlubber reflexes behind, and flying over corals and other magnificent drop-offs, it’s as if we’re soaring, keeping in memory only what our eyes can store. Multicolored, even phosphorescent fish, sharks, rays, the immensity of the blue, and then, there, dolphins, just a few meters from me, underwater. Incredible.

* 70,000 tourists annually, mostly affinity tourism (links with family or an expatriate). ** Present almost at the water’s surface, the reefs were largely destroyed by Chido.

Paradise at sea? When you think that Mayotte comes from the Arabic Jazirat al Mawet—literally, Island of Death—because of its double coral barrier where many skiffs have run aground and continue to do so… Paradise. Eldorado. The Comoros now face an unprecedented influx of immigrants from the African Great Lakes. And Mayotte, for its part, continues to attract relentlessly, thanks to the evolution of the law*. In reality, whether hidden interests exist or not, France remains bound hand and foot by international, European, and French rules: it can’t do much. Barely has it boarded a kwassa when the one who flees by swimming cries attempted murder; barely has one been sent back to the Comoros when an association will look into their detention conditions and find a loophole; barely has one told a bouéni how her next pregnancy could be fatal when so-called human voices cry scandal.

* Regarding the Métropole, the rights of squatters and other bad payers against the notion of private property, legally violated in favor of the right to housing… ** You can read about France being condemned for its illegal practices of expelling Comorian minors. Inhumane treatment, arbitrary detention, collective expulsion.

Everyone forms their own idea of justice, and no one can claim a monopoly on good thinking. So, as long as I treat without prejudice, as long as my hands are sincerely guided by the love I bear for our humanity, I’ll allow myself to think what I think, understanding that I’m rather open to dialogue and that my opinions evolve with time and events. Today, Mayotte represents for me the failure of a model, a European one in this case, where opulence quickly meets its limits. For it’s not wrong to think that our society can’t share more than it produces, nor is it wrong to think that every human being has a right to their share of the pie; in Mayotte, you’ll find the proven result of our civilization: it doesn’t work. Exclusively financed by the right, the ideas of the left jam in Mayotte more than anywhere else: national solidarity coupled with a sense of guilt creates chaos. Political courage, or true social justice, would be to offer a future to those who have no choice—the one who’s already here, the child to be born—not to offer a present to those who can choose or to whom one can give keys to understanding—the woman of childbearing age, the candidate for exile. Ultimately, the Comoros’ coup d’état over France comes at the cost of many innocent victims, starting with the children*.

* Tens of thousands of deaths by drowning between Anjouan and Mayotte, tens of thousands of children left to fend for themselves and doomed to a non-existent future.

On the evening of the 31st, I go for my usual run and notice near a roundabout a fool in rags pedaling the wrong way. A police car passes by: the guy gets stopped. A rather quick identity check. The guy is taken away. Would he still be among us if he had ridden the right way? In the evening, the line is long in front of the club near the dock. Me, I’m just passing by, greeting my friends of the season, much more inclined to savor rest than to exhaust myself on an overheated dance floor. There, a man, thirty or forty years old, clearly in a world of his own, is searching the trash for something to eat. He’s barefoot. I console myself by thinking that at least he won’t die of cold. Out of ten children born in Mayotte, I can reasonably think that only one will be able to afford an existence that minimally meets any of our criteria.

It’s time to go home. After sweating and thinking so much about this gem of the Mozambique Channel, I spend peaceful hours by the pool at a hotel next to the airport. We checked out at 8 AM, and the flight is at 7 PM. The perfect opportunity to slack off and chat a bit more. I’m happy to get to know one of the co-pilots of tonight’s flight, staying at this hotel, while one of my flight attendant friends from this airline had already recommended me to the crew. But it’s not the captain’s day, who’s in a rather gloomy mood. I’ll travel in the back, up to the vertical of Cairo. Midnight has just struck; it’s January 2nd, my name day. Concerned about solving an unsolvable problem with a passenger, the crew asks me to give up my exit row seat and takes me to the front for the last four hours of the flight. In the end, the captain gave in? I laugh to myself: if there’s one thing I mustn’t forget, it’s that God never abandons me!

Hello fellow travelers,

I live in Ille-et-Vilaine in Brittany. I’m looking for one or more travel companions for summer 2026. I’m off work from July 11th to August 23rd. I’d like to spend a month or more abroad, backpacking and getting as close as possible to the local way of life to really soak up the culture.

Looking forward to figuring out the destination and planning the trip together! Nolwenn

Hi everyone,

I wanted to share my experience in case it helps others. I applied for an ESTA to travel to the United States, but unfortunately, it was denied because I checked a "Yes" box by mistake. I then tried contacting several numbers I found here on the forum for help or to find out how to reset my ESTA application, but most of them no longer work. One of the numbers I called wasn’t even assigned (it came from a 2015 discussion). I also tried reaching the U.S. Embassy in Paris, but they told me to apply for a visa instead.

If anyone knows the correct official number or procedure to reset a denied ESTA application, I’d really appreciate it. My departure is in 2 weeks, and I won’t have time to get a visa.

Thanks in advance for your help!

Numbers I’ve already contacted: 202-325-7171 202-325-8000 1-202-877-227-5511

Non-working number found on the forum: 00 1 2023443710

Hi there, Yesterday in the Thailand section, 100% of the new threads were just about beach destinations 😕... So here’s the counterattack in the form of this photo thread, dedicated solely to the countryside: the locals, their livestock, fields, farms, rice paddies, small rivers, and agricultural machinery. If you’ve got any pictures that fit these categories, feel free to add them! Comments welcome. For each photo, I’ll (or you can) indicate the area where it was taken.

Kanchanaburi:

Kanchanaburi:

Sri Chiangmai:

Soppong:

Tha Wang Pha:

Hi there,

My wife and I are heading to Santorini from October 11th to 18th (it’s her birthday gift). I’ll admit I’m torn between spending the full 7 days on Santorini or combining it with another island (I was thinking Milos) for 2 or 3 days. Since the ferry schedules aren’t announced yet for October, it’s hard to plan ahead.

Do you think 7 days on Santorini is too much, or is splitting 7 days between 2 islands too short? Any other destinations worth considering?

Thanks in advance

Hi there, please could you tell me how to arrange a marriage interview at the embassy? My fiancé has already been interviewed. Thanks to anyone who can help me out!

Hi there!

In August, I’m planning a flight with a layover between Las Vegas and Pointe-à-Pitre. Departure from Las Vegas at 11:50 PM – Arrival in Miami at 7:50 AM Layover from 7:50 AM to 9:55 AM Departure from Miami at 9:55 AM, arrival in PTP at 1:10 PM

I’m a bit stressed about the 2h05 layover. What do you think? Is that enough time?

Thanks for your replies! Marc

Hi everyone,

This isn’t a travel journal. I’m borrowing an idea from someone else who, a few years ago, thought of starting a thread to share their archived photos of this country.

I’ll be posting here from time to time—some less old, let’s say more or less recent, images. With little or no commentary. Just for the fun of it.

Hi, We’re considering a discovery trip to Brazil in summer 2025 for a maximum of 3 weeks, transport included. Since the must-see sites are very far apart, we’ve selected the ones that seemed the most spectacular and have little or no equivalent elsewhere in the world. Here’s what we’re thinking: Outbound: 1 day Paris → São Paulo Iguaçu: 2 days Transfer: 1 day via São Paulo or Rio and São Luís Lençóis National Park: 3 days Transfer: 1 day via São Luís Salvador de Bahia: 2 days Transfer: 1 day via Rio Rio: 4 days Return: 1 day What do you think? I was thinking of adding a stop that’s easily accessible without flying from one of the places above. Ilha Grande? Tinharé Island? Any other suggestions? Thanks in advance for your tips! Virginie

Bonjour à tous ! Pour faire suite au message fermé ( nos-experiences-demandes-remboursements-suite-annulation-cause-covid-19 ) car trop 'gonflé' : plus de 1200 réponses ! , j'ouvre un nouveau sujet, qui est la suite logique du précédent !

Après les annulations - demandes de remboursements abouties ou non cette année, suite au Covid, j'aimerais que vous nous racontiez la suite de l'histoire :

- Qu'est - il advenu de vos projets de vacances ? - Avez- vous persévéré et obtenu un remboursement ou un report ? - Faites- vous de nouveaux projets ou avez vous déjà pu tenter, avec réussite, un autre voyage ?

Pour démarrer le sujet, voici ce que nous avons prévu : -- les 2 voyages ( USA et Yucatan ) qui étaient prêts seraient reportés à 1 an, peut-être à 2 : c'est de l'optimisme ... -- le voyage de mai, 3 semaines dans les Pouilles : quasi complètement remboursé ; peut-être reporté au printemps : il est fin prêt aussi ! -- cette année, vacances de 6 nuits à la belge : 3 jours à la Côte et 3 jours dans les Ardennes ; un peu court mais une météo plus qu'agréable ; belle bouffée d'air ... J'espère que vous avez mieux à nous raconter !

Bonne journée à tous .