Results for "Bienne+|+9+>+232"

Bonjour, nous sommes un groupe de 5 copains a vouloir descendre au Burkina par la route.Nous avons déja les vehicules il s'agit d'une 4L camionnete et d'un camion benne (PL) avec lesquels nous nous posons beaucoup de questions y a-t-il un itineraire privilegié (rapide et pas cher!) ?formalités administratives particulieres pour le PL ?Temps estimé pour arriver a Ouaga ?Choses a faire et ne pas faire ?Prix de la traversée Espagne Maroc pour VL et PL ?Equipement special pour les vehicules ?N° carte Michelin Afrique de L'Ouest ?Assurance vehicule en Mauritanie obligatoire ?

Bref, tout un tas de questions alors si qq'un a deja fait le trajet (surtout en camion), nous attendons impatiement vos réponses.Merci d'avance.

Bonjour, 😉

Nous quittons pour le venézuela, Margarita, le 22 janvier prochain, à l'hotel Lagunamar.... J'aimerais avoir de l'info sur cet hôtel.....et les excursions..... Jeep.... dauphins.... le magasinage.... coût de la vie.... Toute information sera appréciée... Un gros merci..... Au plaisir de vous lire....

quelqu'un peut il me dire si les barres de toit du nissan navara D40 doube cabine série élégance peuvent être enlevée et que peut on mettre pour boucher les trous de façon étanche et cela pour adapter une cellule car j'hésite à acheter cette finition et peut on adapter une cellule avec un bac de benne merci beaucoup de vos réponses

😉 Je suis à la recherche de Laurence Rathelot de la ville de Marseille en France. En 1989 ou 90 elle est venue dans ma ville, Thetford Mines au Québec, avec sa chorale Les chanteurs de l'espérance. J'aimerais donc bien pourvoir lui reparler. Merci Mélanie

🙂Salut salut,

un peu bizarre comme question étant donné que je suis Canadienne mais bon ca va comme suit...Je suis québécoise et reviens d'un long séjour en Europe mais comme je suis incapable de resté dans ma ville ( J'ai eu la piqure du voyage) et bien j'aimerais partir travailler dans la région de Banff ou Jasper...QUELQU'UN CONNAIS DES TRUCS POUR SE TROUVER UN BOULOT LA BAS?? est ce plus facile de s'y rendre directement ou bien d'envoyer des CV? enfin j'aimerais partir le plus tôt possible pour y passer un bout de l'été....tout commentaires et suggestions sont acceptés.

bisous et j'espère avoir quelques réponses 😛

Ariane

Avez vous une bonne adresse a nous conseiller sur Ko Tao ? (l offre de logement est tellement plethorique qu on ne sait que choisir !)

On y reste une semaine dont 2 jours de plongee.

Merci

BONjour a tous! j'aimerais peut-être partir en voyage pour l'algérie...seulement je me demandais si c'était un destination sure face aux nombreux problemes qui se sont produient dans ce pays...

alors si vous y etes allés il ny a pas lonten bien pourriez-vous me conseiller??

merci biennn

sebastien

Bonjour tout le monde. Je reviens juste d'un voyage en Inde et au Népal qui m'a permis d'aborder l'hindi et le nepali. J'aimerais bien ne pas en rester là, non seulement ne pas oublier les bases que j'ai acquise mais aussi progresser car je compte bien repartir dans ces pays. J'ai acheté une méthode pour chacune de ces langues mais c'est vrai que ça serait peut être plus facile si je pouvais communiquer avec quelqu'un... Alors je sais pas, si quelqu'un peut m'aider...

Bonjour à tous,

Avant tout, je voudrais avoir une pensée pour tous les dominicains et haïtiens qui ont subi de terribles dégats alors que les infra-structures sont fragiles, et qu'ils risquent des épidémies dans les semaines à venir.

MA QUESTION EST: faut-il une prise anti-moustique pour l'hotel ou bien ne supportent-elles pas le 110V (nous avons acheté un adaptateur pour APN...); faut-il un répulsif cutané?

Merci pour vos réponses.

Paul, jeune marié!

Bonjour,

Nous partons au mois d'aout dans cet hotel mais on se pose quelques questions:😕 y a t'il un mini bus de l'hotel qui emmene à playa del carmen? la mer est t'elle remplie de rochers car nous avons des enfants? Est -on loin de tout Pour les escursions, qu'y a t'il de bien à voir en sachant qu'on ne part qu'une semaine?

Merci à ceux qui me répondent.

ps:comme parc, c'est mieux xcaret ou xel ha?😎

Bonjour vous tous,

j'ai besoin de conseil parce que je quitte seule en Septembre prochain pour barcelone. Est ce que c'est risqué? Si vous avez des conseils à me faire part et bien ca serait très apprécié.

merci Ariane

Salut,

Bon, je viens d'apprendre qu'il faut trouver un job avant en Espagne pour obtenir le visa. Donc, s'il y a des gens qui peuvent m'aider à trouver une job.... des conseils.... je le sais pas. Je parle un peu Espagnol et tres bien Anglais et Francais et puis, j'aimerais beaucoup travailler à Madrid.

Merci !! Aidez-moi !!!!!!!!!

audrey

Bonjour je propose ce nouveau sujet de discussion. Parlez des livres que vous avez lu, qui traitent du voyage, et qui donnent encore plus envie de partir. Je sais, c'est pas bien de faire ça, c'est malsain, parce qu'on a tous suffisamment envie de se barrer, mais c'est plus fort que nous, n'est-ce pas? J'ouvre, avec l'Usage du Monde de Nicolas Bouvier. Entre 1951 et 1953, Nicolas Bouvier est parti avec un ami peintre (Thierry Vernet) en fiat facile à réparer qui tombe tout le temps en panne à travers l'Europe Balkanique, puis la Turquie, le Kurdistan, l'Iran, l'Afganistan. Il raconte ses souvenirs et ses analyses d'une manière simple et très émouvante. Les rencontres et les moments insolites donnent particulièrement envie de vivre des instants similaires, même s'ils ont quand même pas mal galéré. Mais la galère est un véhicule comme un autre... Donc voilà, pour ceux qui n'aiment pas voyager, lisez ce bouquin, les autres, surtout, abstenez vous, sinon, vous serez irrémédiablement perdus, korzéam.

salut, J'ai le projet de partir en trek pour l'annapurna. Peut on faire cette expédition en autonomie, Et est il possible de louer sur place duvet doudoune. si oui, quell est la qualité du matos? et aussi avez vous une idée du budget pour cette aventure ? Merci à ceux qui voudront bien me répondre.

“Hey, your Marker... - My Marker? - The one you used to make hitchhiking signs.”

The marker in question is sitting proudly on the kitchen table. Marielle found it at the bottom of a moving box.

I’ve been meaning to tell the long story of my love affair with hitchhiking for years. Here we go.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure when it started. My earliest memory goes back to a fair with a bike race in my maternal grandparents’ village. I was with my cousin, my little sister, and three girl cousins. There were six of us, ages ranging from six or seven to thirteen or fourteen. Our parents stayed at the fair, and we’d had enough. So we decided to walk home. Only it was four kilometers away. So we hitchhiked. A guy driving an old car picked us all up and dropped us off at the farm. He probably found it amusing to see us thumbing a ride by the side of the road, but maybe it also worried him a bit. With everything you read in the papers...

Around fifteen or sixteen, I started hitchhiking regularly, alone or with a friend, to go to the nearby town. But it was especially when I started boarding school in Orléans that it became more regular. The first year, I’d leave Monday morning and come back Saturday noon by bus. It was an old, uncomfortable bus where we froze in winter. To make matters worse, I often got motion sickness if, as was too often the case, I ended up sitting in the back. In the spring, a high school friend suggested I hitchhike back. It meant a slight detour, but the advantage was taking only national roads.

So that’s how, from the end of tenth grade to twelfth grade, I’d thumb a ride every Saturday on the Pont de Bourgogne. Drivers were used to seeing young people hitchhiking, and it worked pretty well. Our biggest fear? Soldiers! At that time, military service was still mandatory, and on weekends, it wasn’t rare to see them competing with us. They’d keep their uniforms on to go home. That gave people confidence—with everything you read in the papers—and they’d rarely wait more than five minutes. We, with our long hair, were definitely less popular. From time to time, three big red-faced guys in a van coming back from a construction site would flip us off, yelling things like “go get a haircut, you bums!” Those were the good old days.

We still had a good laugh, though. Patrice, the friend I’d hitchhike back from school with on Saturdays, is a musician—I’d later discover he’s an excellent composer. A die-hard Beatles fan, he knows their repertoire by heart and spends his time singing at the top of his lungs while we thumb a ride. One Saturday late morning, we’d been waiting for a while at the exit of Châteauneuf-sur-Loire when a little lady came up to him and asked if he could please sing a little quieter: a baby was sleeping in the house. He put on the most sorry face: “Oh, sorry ma’am, we didn’t realize.” No sooner had the lady gone back inside than he started again. Luckily, a car stopped just then, sparing me the embarrassment of seeing the lady come back out.

Saturday was also the day when the cigarette pack was dangerously low. So before leaving, we’d go buy some “Parisiennes,” the “P4s” as we called them back then. They were slightly thinner cigarettes with a mix of tobacco scraps. Sometimes they tasted like light tobacco, sometimes like dark. Not great, but by the end of the week, our pocket money was gone. They were sold in small packs of four, hence the name P4. We’d only pay 20 centimes. On Saturdays, it was rare for the two of us to manage to scrape together 1.50 F to buy a whole pack of Gauloises...

The last twenty kilometers, I’d usually do alone, Patrice having reached his destination. From time to time, luck would smile on me: an acquaintance would just happen to pass by and stop. One January Saturday, at the exit of Gien, I ran into another guy from Argenton whom I knew a little. That day, the weather was nice, but the temperature was well below zero. It was around noon, and it was the off-peak hour. We were shivering, stamping our feet by the side of the road, when a Citroën “Tube” arrived: it was his father’s boss’s, a mason. They were both sitting in the front, but since they were obese, they had us climb onto the open back. Even though we huddled against the cab to shelter from the wind, the twenty kilometers felt very long, especially since we were only going sixty kilometers an hour. Our hands and cheeks were blue when we finally arrived.

The year I took my baccalaureate, a friend with a 2CV would take me Monday mornings with one or two others we’d pick up in nearby villages. We’d share the gas costs, but it was still cheaper than the bus. And in winter, the bus was my nightmare. You had to get up at five to catch it at six. Not enough sleep, and outside it was freezing or raining—or both. The 2CV was luxury. Plus, Philippe would pick me up at home. On the other hand, since I didn’t have class Saturday mornings—well, I did, but we only had PE the first two hours and nothing after—I’d skip class and slip out right after breakfast to thumb a ride at the Pont de Bourgogne.

Those three high school years were formative in this optional subject that was hitchhiking. Little by little, I learned the rules of the game. First, you shouldn’t walk along the road while thumbing. Cars go too fast and can’t stop easily. Accepting a ride that’s too short is also a no-go. The guy who offers to take you a little way but drops you off at some vague crossroads in the middle of nowhere? No thanks. You need to get dropped off in a town. If it’s a fairly big city, you often have to cross it from one end to the other, but it’s better. At the exit, you have to choose your spot well. Actually, you have to put yourself in the driver’s shoes: they need to see you early enough, not be going too fast, and be able to stop easily without risking an accident. So when leaving a city, it’s better not to go too far. It’s wiser to find a spot where cars go slowly and can stop easily. And preferably near a café. The café is for when you still have a few coins for a coffee and need to warm up. From time to time, you’d run into someone nice who’d make a detour to drop you off at a better spot to start again. Finally, if possible, avoid hitchhiking on Sundays. Cars are packed with whole families who, most of the time, aren’t going far. And then there’s the little worry of those people who rarely leave home: with everything you read in the papers...

During those high school years, it was only short trips, rarely exceeding a hundred kilometers. Later, I aimed bigger, and things were a bit different. In 1973-74, I crossed part of France for the first time on two or three occasions, coming back from the German border or returning to Bordeaux, where we lived briefly. Since there weren’t many highways back then, we took national roads. It was during these trips that I realized it was better to leave in the evening. As I said earlier, Sunday is to be avoided, but on weekdays, there’s another problem: if you leave in the morning, you only make short hops. First, it often takes longer to get going because drivers are people going to work nearby. Which brings us back to those who drop you off in a bad spot, far from everything. There, you have to know how to refuse. You thank the driver for stopping—oh, if only everyone could be like you—while explaining why you’d rather stay put. People don’t take offense, by the way. Those who pick up hitchhikers often hitchhiked themselves when they were in the military or before they had a car. In the late afternoon, you’d often run into salespeople or truckers, in other words, people who drive a lot. At that time, salespeople no longer had appointments and were more relaxed. They wanted to talk about something other than the merits of their products. On the radio, it was time for *Les Grosses Têtes*. You’d also quite often run into small business owners, professionals, or even hippies. The conversations were pleasant and often enriching. A little later in the evening, truckers would take over. They’d already driven a few hundred kilometers, and the depot or customs was still far away. So they’d gladly take a hitchhiker to stay awake at the wheel and chat. The radio with Max Ménier’s show *Les routiers sont sympas*, you’d eventually get tired of it. So a hitchhiker was a change. Others, who’d hit the road at midnight to be at their destination by morning, were nice and offered to let you lie down on the bunk while they drove. When you’d been hitchhiking since six in the evening, freezing in the wind between two vehicles, you weren’t unhappy to take a little nap.

Speaking of Max Ménier, he’d often make announcements for hitchhikers. One evening, I called him. It was getting late, and I still had quite a way to go. No luck: the show had ended for good the day before!

In short, it’s better not to rush, sleep in, and leave after lunch, or better yet, in the late afternoon. Obviously, I’m talking about when you have several hundred kilometers to cover. That’s when you have to play it pro.

First thing, especially at night, but it also applies in the middle of summer when the light is blinding: dress to be seen from far away. I’ll admit I have an advantage over most other hitchhikers: I’m small and don’t scare people. To balance that out, racist drivers often take me for an Arab and are less likely to pick me up, but overall, the balance tips in my favor. Back to the need to be seen: at night, I wear light-colored clothes. In headlights, you can see me from far away.

Second thing: travel light. Forget the big backpack with a frame. Drivers don’t always have room in the trunk or on the back seat, especially if it’s rained and the ground is wet. Plus, it forces them to get out of the car. If they’re nice enough to pick up a hitchhiker, you shouldn’t ask for too much either.

Third thing: bring a cardboard sign and a big marker—like the ones in the photo at the start of this post—to write the name of your destination. In the early 80s, I ran a tourist house in the Cher, but I lived in the Netherlands. In the off-season, it was only open on weekends. On Fridays, I’d leave Holland and return on Mondays. 1200 km round trip. On the way there, in Paris, I’d stand at Porte de la Chapelle. At that spot, the road is very wide, and drivers could stop easily. Obviously, on the sign, I didn’t write Eindhoven, which not everyone knows, and even less Amsterdam because of its seedy reputation. In that case, you’d expect to see a police car stop and two officers in kepis ask for your papers. So as a first destination, I’d write Compiègne. We were well out of Paris, and since it wasn’t too far, a trucker or salesperson was less reluctant to stop. Once past Compiègne, I’d take out my Lille sign. Once in Belgium, it wasn’t really necessary to use a sign anymore, since everyone was going in the same direction. Usually, the guy who picked me up at Porte de la Chapelle would say he wasn’t going far but could take me a little way. Before that, I’d still ask if there was a gas station on the highway where he could drop me off before exiting. While talking, the guy would realize he wasn’t dealing with a dangerous criminal. He’d pretend to check his watch, think for a moment, then say that actually, he was going to Belgium and could take me to the border or a little beyond. To leave Paris on the way back, I’d take the train to Melun, where it was easier to hitchhike than at Porte d’Italie.

Over all those years, I think I was pretty lucky. Or maybe philosophical enough not to imagine a car would stop after a few minutes. An hour’s wait was average. Sure, I sometimes waited three, four, or five hours. Most often at odd hours and in terrible weather. When it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But there’s always a moment when things pick up. Sure, when you’re soaked in freezing rain in the early morning after a sleepless night, you’re less philosophical than when I’m writing these lines comfortably at my computer, but it still holds true.

Earlier, I mentioned clothing and the importance of being well-rested before leaving. When you’ve eaten well and just gotten out of the shower, shaved, you’re in a better mood. And somehow, drivers sense it. Or at least, that’s the impression I’ve always had. It’s better to look in shape than disgusted at standing there, half-heartedly thumbing a ride. In short, when I’d start to get fed up with waiting, I’d go into the first café I saw for a coffee. Coming back out, I’d be refreshed, and most of the time, a car would stop within minutes. I’ve often said that when I stood by the side of the road thumbing a ride, I felt a bit like a gambler in front of a slot machine. It was a matter of giving luck a chance. And well, it worked out pretty well.

Then, there are countries where hitchhiking works really well and others where it’s harder. In the 70s-80s, it worked best in Germany and England. In the late afternoon, it wasn’t rare to be invited for tea. Well, that was in England. Tea meant being offered room and board. In Germany, they’d offer you coffee. Once there, they’d first show you the guest room and point out the bathroom before sitting you down in front of a big plate of cold cuts. In the evening, they’d go out in town, and the next morning, they’d usually drop you off at a good spot for hitchhiking. On the other hand, in Mediterranean and Scandinavian countries, you’d better be patient. In Spain or Italy, it’s better to take the train, which was dirt cheap back then. However, if you’re a couple traveling light, it’s already easier in most countries.

In 1982, I went on a trip around Turkey with my girlfriend. We only had two small bags, which was plenty. It was November-December, and we wore our warm, bulky clothes. Leaving Eindhoven at nine in the morning, we arrived in Graz, near the Yugoslav border, at eleven at night. 1300 km in a day! In just four or five vehicles. One to the German border, about fifty kilometers from Eindhoven, the second to Hagen in the Ruhr, the third to Salzburg, and the last to Graz at the Yugoslav border. Record broken. During the night crossing of Yugoslavia, we ran into a trucker close to retirement who lent us the truck’s bunk. So we arrived fresh and rested near Skopje the next morning. We continued to Thessaloniki in northern Greece before taking the train to Istanbul. In Turkey, we traveled a good part of the country by hitchhiking too. With truckers in old, overloaded, slow trucks that climbed hills at fifteen kilometers an hour, but also in cars where five or six people were already crammed in. And every time, we were invited for tea. Once, we were even picked up by a big shot in his Mercedes with a chauffeur. Until then, the average speed was around fifty kilometers an hour. There, we were going two hundred. On a national road, not a nice European highway.

I’ve also hitchhiked in Nepal, from Lumbini, Buddha’s birthplace, to a village on the way to Pokhara. It must have been midday. No bus until the next day. I gave it a try. A small truck overloaded with rice sacks, with two or three young people already perched on top, stopped. I rode on the roof of the cab. At fifty kilometers an hour when it was going well, with a breathtaking view. Coming back from India, I also crossed part of Iran by hitchhiking, from Tehran to the Turkish border. I did this trip with an Austrian I met at the hotel who, like me, had to watch his pennies. We gave it a shot. There was almost no traffic, but to our great surprise, the first car that passed in the area would always stop. They’d just ask for a modest contribution for gas, and it cost next to nothing.

Sometimes, you get scared too. After leaving Turkey in early December 82, we spent about two weeks in the southern Peloponnese harvesting olives. A few days before Christmas, we hitchhiked back to Holland. A girl picked us up in her little Fiat 500. We were driving on a mountain road, and that morning there was a bit of black ice. After crossing a pass, we saw the old Ford Taunus ahead of us at fifty meters start to skid. The driver let out a “heeee!” while grabbing my knees. I reflexively grabbed the wheel. Finally, the Taunus got back on track. And we didn’t swerve. But those few seconds felt very long.

In January 77, while I’d been living in Germany for a few months, I decided to spend a few days in Italy. By hitchhiking, of course. I left in the early afternoon, and by ten at night, I wasn’t far from Frankfurt. I saw a big Mercedes stop. The four or five young people crammed inside were listening to Schlager at full volume. Beer cans littered the floor. They didn’t have a precise destination, and as long as they were going south, that was fine with me. They’d finished their military service that very day and had clearly already celebrated their discharge. The driver was going 160, zigzagging dangerously from one side of the highway to the other. I should have realized he wasn’t entirely sober either. Luckily, there was almost no traffic. Finally, I managed to get dropped off at a gas station just before Frankfurt, relieved. I hope their trip didn’t end tragically.

Another time, coming back from Holland with my wife, we were picked up early in the morning near Senlis by two guys from Lille. They were going to work near Tours and could drop us off at Porte d’Italie. Apparently, they were coworkers but barely knew each other. The driver offered us a beer—at six in the morning, sure!—before opening another can for himself. He was clearly having trouble staying in the right lane. We politely declined, the passenger too. Everyone was tense. Luckily, it was rush hour on the ring road, and we were going slowly. When we got out of the car, the passenger said goodbye with the look of a guy being offered the condemned man’s rum and cigarette.

Finally, there are the annoying remarks from drivers who are either gay when you’re alone or turned on by the sight of your girlfriend when you’re a couple. In those cases, I’d get in the back so the guy wouldn’t feel too confident. And if the conversation got a little too suggestive, we’d deflect until we got dropped off.

And luckily, there are the times, not so rare after all, when you run into really nice people who invite you to eat and sleep at their place and drive you to a good spot the next morning. In Germany and England, that was common. And then there are the big strokes of luck, like during our trip to Turkey when we crossed most of Germany in one car, or that other time when some Germans drove me from the exit of Geneva all the way to the Costa Brava.

Going back to “with everything you read in the papers” and its variant “with everything you see on TV”—and now on the internet—it’s always left me perplexed. Personally, I’ve never heard of hitchhikers assaulting drivers, even if it may have happened. On the other hand, what was most common were hitchhikers being assaulted, especially girls. Anyway, even armed, it seems a bit stupid to assault the driver—wouldn’t that risk causing an accident?

Finally, since that time, I’ve occasionally wanted to hitchhike somewhere far away in France. Most often, too busy with work, it never happened, but the nostalgia hasn’t completely disappeared.

* * *

Other Hitchhikers

And then one day, I... settled down to become a driver myself. Ten years had passed, and you saw fewer and fewer hitchhikers. Or maybe I saw fewer because I had a regular job and wasn’t traveling the same way. And then I understood a few things.

Several times, I was tempted to pick up a hitchhiker, but they didn’t meet the required conditions. They were walking along the road instead of staying at the exit of the previous town. Hard to stop without risking an accident. Or the guy looked really scruffy. Or he was sulking, if not both. Then you think of that famous “with everything you read in the papers.” Not that I was scared, but unfortunately, the few hitchhikers I did pick up later were rarely interesting.

A few years ago, we picked up a young guy at the exit of a small town in Sologne. Not an easy spot for hitchhiking. Bad luck, he was a pretentious little jerk. He was barely 20 or 25 and talked like a bitter old man. He was a waiter in a restaurant. According to him, it was lucky he was there, otherwise the boss would have closed up shop long ago. You’d think he had thirty or forty years of professional experience behind him. As we approached Blois, he started ranting about Arabs, blaming them for all evils. And he laid it on thick. That morning, we were going to a teenager’s funeral who had just committed suicide, so he really got on our nerves, Mr. Know-It-All. Out of anger, I dropped him off next to a shopping center a few kilometers from downtown. Not nice, but it felt good.

Some time ago, we were driving around the Limousin on a Sunday to try out the used Twingo we’d just bought. We picked up a guy in his forties. A German who spoke French well. He started talking about the environment. He was a green Khmer. He got worked up all by himself with his pseudo-eco rant and, after a few kilometers, was almost yelling at us. As we were about to leave the main road for a small one, I dropped him off at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. Normally, I would have made a little detour to take him to a better spot, but this time, I didn’t feel like doing the... eco-warrior a favor.

On the other hand, I’ve still done my good deed a few times. One June morning, coming back from Orléans, I saw a man in his sixties hitchhiking. The poor guy had had a rough time. He was from Montpellier and was coming back from Caen, where he’d been promised a job. Once there, they bluntly told him the position was already taken, and he had to go back. Except he didn’t have enough money left for the train. He’d spent the night hitchhiking without success. I could only take him as far as Lamotte-Beuvron, where I dropped him off near the fire station. Apparently, there was some vague shelter there or something, but it only opened a few hours later. In the meantime, he settled on the grass in a corner to sleep a little. While he was doing that, I quickly went to the train station to check the price of a ticket to Montpellier. It was within my means. Since he was sound asleep, I slipped the train ticket and 100 francs into his pocket. I couldn’t imagine him continuing to hitchhike all the way to Montpellier. And I bet he didn’t even have a piece of cardboard and a marker!

When we go to Brazil, we usually rent a small car. One day, we were coming back from Paracuru to Fortaleza when we saw a whole family hitchhiking. Two adults and two or three small children. Here near the equator, the sun sets very quickly, and it would soon be night. There was little traffic, and trucks wouldn’t stop because there was no room in the cab. As for the rich people driving big 4x4s, they wouldn’t stoop to picking up the lower classes. The only hope for this kind of family was usually a farmer or artisan who’d let them ride in the back of his pickup. Obviously, they were a bit surprised to see us. Everyone crammed in as best they could in the back of our little car. When we dropped them off, we got a whole string of “Deus lhes abençõe”—God bless you.

Still in Brazil, we were on the road from Barreirinhas to São Luís do Maranhão. About 150 km of deserted road with an isolated mud house here and there. A young woman flagged us down. She was very pregnant and had to get to the clinic twenty or thirty kilometers away to give birth. Someone was supposed to drive her, but the first signs of labor started earlier than expected, and the driver was unavailable. Even driving fast, we weren’t feeling great: it would be just our luck if she gave birth in the car!

Today, we’re in the age of smartphones and carpooling apps. Safety. With everything you see on TV... Three or four years ago, we signed up on a platform. Our first, and only, “client” was a little jerk who didn’t say a word the whole trip. No hello, no goodbye, and certainly no thank you. The next day, we found his Ray-Bans in the car. We didn’t run after him to give them back. Ha!

If you're walking around the southern part of Lake Bourget, you can't escape the noise from a parachuting club's planes. A group of climate skeptics actually takes off in small, very noisy aircraft every 15 minutes over a Natura 2000 classified area. They don’t seem to face any restrictions—neither for noise nor for greenhouse gas emissions. They occupy the airspace without paying fuel taxes or providing carbon compensation to local municipalities or environmental preservation associations, apparently. It sounds surreal, but it’s very real in such an important location.

Hi there,

Do you know any tricks for traveling on a budget? With flight prices constantly rising, it’s a real lifesaver!

Hi everyone, Have any travelers recently returned to Morocco via the border at Ceuta? If so, how is the crossing at Moroccan customs going right now? Are there any products bought in Ceuta that are banned from import into Morocco? Thanks for your replies! Hope you had a great holiday

I'm currently exploring how to create a travel itinerary using AI, specifically ChatGPT.

Question: Bike route from Bordeaux to Paris.

Rough response:

A bike route between Bordeaux and Paris is an incredible adventure, typically around 600 to 650 km depending on the chosen path. Here’s an example of an itinerary with key points:Main Option: La Scandibérique (EuroVelo 3) La Scandibérique is the French section of EuroVelo 3, connecting Bordeaux to Paris through stunning landscapes. This route is well-marked and takes you through small roads and greenways.Main Stages

Bordeaux → Libourne (about 40 km)

Follow the Garonne River, cross the vineyards of Entre-deux-Mers, and reach Libourne, a charming wine town. Greenways available.

Libourne → Périgueux (about 100 km)

Cross the Dordogne with stops in villages like Montpon-Ménestérol. Mix of quiet small roads and trails.

Périgueux → Châteauroux (about 160 km, in several stages)

Through the Parc Naturel Régional de la Brenne. This stage is longer but rich in nature and heritage.

Châteauroux → Orléans (about 110 km)

Reach the banks of the Loire to enjoy the famous Loire à Vélo, a beautiful section with châteaux.

Orléans → Paris (about 140 km)

Pass through the Forêt de Fontainebleau before joining the bike paths along the Seine all the way to Paris.

tout est dans le titre ... est-il facile de louer une voiture , pas forcément 4*4 avec une tente de toit aus States pour réduire le cout logement en hotel et toujours pouvoir se caser dans les zones en tension ? (pour 2 !) merci !

bonjour a tous,

je prépare un voyage de 18 à 20 jours au vietnam pour le mois de janvier 2021 ou 2022 (suivant l'évolution du covid.

pour commencer notre style de voyage c'est loin des touristes et proche des endroits authentiques. (loin des club med ou autres).

j'ai commencé a regarder pour des guesthouses ou chambre chez l'habitant, ça serait notre mode d'hébergement. nous nous accorderons surement un joli hôtel dans le sejour.

nous devrions atterrir à ho chi minh ville. je prévois des faire des étapes de 2h30 maximum de moto pour relier les différentes destinations.

j'ai déjà repéré plusieurs lieu pouvant nous interesser :

-tunnel de cu chi -buu long pagoda -phan rang -thac ba -Chua suoi mo -parc naturel de cat tien avec comme logement des maison en bambou en bord du cours d'eau.

nous voulons faire une boucle en remontant par la cote les dernier jours. chaque étape durerais un ou deux jours.

bien sur rien n'est encore défini.

connaissez vous des lieux dans cette zone sud du vietnam valant le coup d'oeil, des activité sympas à faire, des guesthouses ou chambre chez l'habitant à recommander .

comment faite vous pour l'assurance moto?

comment être sur de ne pas se faire escroquer par un taxi (j'ai vu que ça devenait régulier).

je suis preneur de tous conseils. merci d'avance a vous.

Bonjour, je viens vers vous car nous partons dans un mois et aimerions savoir si quelqu'un à deja fait le trajet entre le sud HCV et le cambodge par bateau. Nous aimerions descendre sur le Mekong mais ignorons le temps nescessaire et si c'est possible de la faire avec un enfant ? merci pour vos infos

Nous sommes rentrés d'Inde la semaine dernière avec une grosse surprise en fin de voyage avec notre chauffeur.

Nous sommes restés 28 jours avec lui à faire un tour complet du Rajasthan. Nous sommes passés par une agence de Delhi pour trouver ce chauffeur et nous avons strictement suivi l'itinéraire que nous avions prévu nous-mêmes avant d'arriver. Tout nous semblait bien se passer pendant ce circuit.

Puis est arrivé le dernier jour et le moment crucial du pourboire. Comme c'était notre premier voyage de ce type, nous nous étions renseignés sur internet pour savoir combien il était d'usage et raisonnable de donner. D'après les informations que nous avions pu trouver, nous avons décidé de donner 10 % du montant total payé à l'agence (46 euros par jour). Et là, énorme déception et colère (contenue) de notre chauffeur qui n'a pas pu se retenir, tout de même, de nous dire que ce montant était ridiculement bas par rapport à ce qu'il espérait.

Nous en sommes restés là, déçus lui comme nous de cette fin d'aventure en nous posant beaucoup de questions auxquelles nous n'avons pas de réponses.

Quelqu'un pourrait-il nous dire si 10 % vous semble correct ?

Merci de vos expériences pour nous aider à mieux comprendre.

Nous avons réservé une croisière au départ de Gênes et avons pris la navette en supplément . Après 2 mails sans réponse j'ai téléphoné afin de savoir s'il y avait plusieurs passages et les horaires , non seulement j'apprends qu'il n'y en a qu'un mais pas de renseignement sur l'horaire la personne que j'ai eu ne sait pas !!par ailleurs on lui demande pourquoi nous pas eu de réponse à nos mails , elle nous réponds qu'ils n'ont pas le temps de les lire il y en a trop !!on lui demande pour prendre une assurance au vu des problèmes de transport , elle nous dit non pas possible trop tard .et dans la foulée on reçoit un mail avec proposition de l'assurance la plus chère !!! je viens de recevoir mon dossier et on m'annonce une navette à 11 h alors que mon train n'arrive qu'à 13 h . je retéléphone pour demander pourquoi nous ne sommes pas prévenu de cet horaire , la personne nous a dit que l'on aurait dû nous le dire vu que c'est toujours le même horaire , on lui demande pourquoi la personne précédente ne le savait , réponse nonchalante elle nous dit ne pas connaître le contenu de notre précédent appel , bien sûr on ment hein , c'est vrai qu'il est jouissif d'avoir à repayer des frais à cause de leur incompétence . j'ai donc dû changer mon train et partir la veille 40€ de plus , réservé une chambre d'hôtel encore des frais supplémentaires sans compter les repas à prendre sur place .

je ne vous conseille donc pas de réserver auprès de ce site qui se contente d'empocher l'argent et une fois fait terminé pas de conseil , pas d'écoute , pas de suivi en fait rien nous ne sommes pas des habitués des croisières donc néophytes et vraiment déçus voilà mon coup de gueule

Bonjour, Nous allons faire un road trip sur la côte ouest des usa pendant 3 semaines et nous voudrions louer un pick-up. Savez-vous si le coffre de ces véhicules est fermé par un rideau ou pas ? Merci d'avance pour vos réponses🙂

Bonjour à tous,

J ai écrit fin mai (voyage en avril 2020) et il m a été répondu que les réservations étés prises par mail à partir de décembre.

J ai envoyé un mail le 1er décembre, réponse le 3 : le type d hébergement que je souhaite est complet... Sea view...

On me renvoi vers family garden view, moins cher certes, mais je ne comprends pas comment c est possible...

Par ailleurs, pour ceux qui connaissent, j ai l impression que les lits sont + petits que pour le family seaview... Nous sommes 4 donc c est un problème aussi...

Bref si vous y êtes déjà allé, c est le moment de m éclairer sur ces sujets. Merci !

j attends leur réponse pour confirmation de ma résa...

Bonsoir,

Je réfléchis à un séjour en Floride en mai prochain, du 6 au 21 mai 2020, 15 nuits (en fait, je réfléchis trop...). Nous sommes un couple et un enfant qui aura presque 2 ans et demi.

La période semble convenir, quid des moustiques et de l'affluence touristique ? Aussi, nous aimerions nous baigner, on peut compter une eau cristalline à 27/28°C ?

Enfin, en regardant rapidement, j'avais noté ceci : - 3 nuits du côté de Miami (pour parti aux Everglades notamment) - 3 nuits du côté des Keys - 2 nuits du côté de Naples - 3 nuits du côté de Tampa - 3 nuits du côté d'Orlando (St Augustine, Cap Canaveral, un parc d'attraction?)

Et il me reste une nuit à caser. On aimerait bien ne pas changer de logement tous les jours.

Je ne sais pas si on pourra faire un parc d'attraction, même si ma fille est débrouillarde. A moins que je me trompe ? Par contre, j'aimerais bien faire Cap Canaveral. Pour les Everglades, il vaut mieux les faire depuis Naples ou Miami ? Nous pourront faire du airboat ?

Nos centres d'intérets : Nature et culture. On aime bien randonner, mais cette destination ne s'y prête pas. On aime le snorkelling également, qu'on fera chacun notre tour.

Quand je prends la carte de la Floride, des zones m'intriguent, il y a quelque chose de spécial à faire au lac Okeechobee, les lacs de Kissimmee, forêt Ocala et Jacksonvillle.

Merci,

Bonjour, Je viens de regarder le film "Matthias et Maxime" de Xavier Dolan et je me suis senti mal du début à la fin tant le tabagisme y était omniprésent. 🏴‍☠️ Ce film est-il à l'image du Québec (voir de tout le Canada) et peut-on s'y attendre à tomber sur une omniprésence tabagique, y compris dans les lieux publiques, ou bien est-il fort éloigné de la réalité et enfumé simplement car financé d'une façon ou d'une autre par un richissime lobby (et réalisé par un type qui a vendu son âme au diable, il est de l'argent sale qu'on n'est pas obligé d'accepter, quitte à changer de métier)? 😐