Results for "Comoé+|+99+>+48"

Bonjour à tous,

nous avons comme projet avec ma copine de partir l'été prochain au Vietnam pour 3 semaines. Nous avons acheté le routard mais comme il s'agit de notre premier voyage en Asie, nous nous posons beaucoup de questions.

La toute première et la principale est celle de savoir si nous n'allons pas trop rencontré de difficultés pratiques pendant notre séjour, notamment au niveau de l'hébergement et des transports.

Je sais que ma question est générale mais c'est une première prise de contact et je vous remercie par avance pour votre réponse!

Bonjour tout le monde,

Comme tout le monde, j'ai appris la catastrophe qui a survenu au Bukit Lawang... Cela m'a bcp attristé parceque j'y ai passé de bons moments et connu des gens formidables... Sulico, notre guide.... et j'ai pensé aux habitants de Bukit aussi...

A propos de Sucilo, on a qu'une adresse celle de "Wisma Bukit Lawang Indah"... est ce que quelqu'un l'a connu ? est ce que quelqu'un aurait une adresse mail ???

Merci beaucoup d'avance parceque c'est inquietant...

Il faut bien commencer un jour et comme ce topic ne peut pas se lancer tout seul 😐, je vous propose de lancer le débat en posant vos questions sur des projets que vous avez aussi bien pour des sorties de W-E que pour des séjours à l'étranger.Je pense que chacun pourra apporter des réponses aux questions qui seront posées.Nous avons tous parcourus des endroits différents et il sera facile de se monter une base de données sur toutes nos découvertes.Ne pas avoir peur de poser des questions, ici nous échangeons sur un forum sympa, sans se prendre la tête et nous avons énormément à recueillir pour nos plaisirs du voyage à pied 😎.

Alors à tout de suite, c'est cool comme disent nos jeunes 😉😎

Bonjour à tous Comme bcp de monde, je compte partir au Nepal à la mi-octobre, mais comme je me suis decidé un peut tard, les billets restant sont les plus $$$. Par contre, j'ai trouvé des billets a destination de Delhi pour 680€ (partance de Munich, puisque je serai en Allemagne à la mi octobre) et je voulais avoir une idée des prix pour rejoindre Ktm à partir de Delhi. Pour l'avion, des recherches sur le net m'ont donné environ 250€ aller-retour, plus visas divers ... quand un billet Munich-> Ktm donne 1100€. Est ce que ça vaut la peine de s'embeter? Et par la route ça donne quoi, tout en sachant que c'est l'occasion de trainer en Inde du Nord un petit peu. Je compte partir environ 40 jours (20 octobre->mi-decembre).

La seconde question, c'est par rapport à un post lu plus bas, à savoir que sur les treks moins touristiques, on trouvait moins de lodges, et que le camping etait la solution de secours. Est ce que ça veut dire amener sa propre tente/louer, rechaud, où est on autorisé à camper, ... J'ai essayé de trouver des plus post anciens traitant du sujet, mais point n'en ai trouvé😐. Merci d'avance à tous

🙂🙂 bonjour,

je souhaite comme noté ci-dessus apprendre l'anglais en Nouvelle-Zealand.

j'aimerais être accueillie dans une famille si possible et suivre des cours en école.

Help Help Help ...à quel organisme puis-je m'adresser?

avez-vous une ou des adresses sympa à me refiler?

connaissez-vous qqn

qui pourraient m'aider à concrétiser cette aventure.

merci les amis

anne

Salut à tous, namasté

Comme beaucoup d'entre vous je suis attiré par l'Inde, j'y ai effectué un premier voyage en 2001, 2 semaines en circuit avec nouvelles frontières puis suivi de 3 semaines seul, en routard sac à dos, de Bombay à Delhi, Agra, Bénares, Goa....

Envie de repartir en avril, à la découverte de Calcutta, je cherche des bons plans dans cette ville, visites et adresses sympas, lieux à ne pas manquer .....

Et si comme moi, tu prévois l' Inde en avril, contactes moi ....

Merci a tous

Claude

Bonjour à tous,

Je suis enseignante et, comme je dispose de longues vacances d'été, j'aurais voulu mettre à profit une partie d'entre elles pour partir, en tant que bénévole, enseigner le français à des enfants d'ailleurs. Malheureusement, toutes les démarches que j'ai pu faire jusque là n'ont pas abouti puisqu'il parait difficile de ne s'engager que sur quelques semaines... Si quelqu'un avait des idées, des pistes de recherches, à me communiquer, elles seraient les bienvenues. Merci à vous Karine

Bonjour, je projette partir comme bien des québécois à Banff pour avril-mai, j'aimerais savoir si vous ne connaisseriez pas quelques lieux genre ''room and board" pas trop dispendieux pour une étudiante qui veut travailler dans un hôtel. Je sais que souvent les hôtels offrent une chambre à prix réduit pour les employés, mais vivre avec des anglais me plairait un peu plus.

merci de vos furturs conseil.

vive la liberté . Maria eva

Hi there, We’re planning an 8-day backpacking trip on the island of São Nicolau. We’re torn between taking the boat from São Vicente or an inter-island flight. I’ve heard the boats don’t always run? We’d like to make three homestay stops to travel in a star pattern from each of the three points. First stop around Juncalinho, second stop near Cachaco, and finally a third leg near Tarrafal. We’re looking for simple but authentic guesthouses (no hotels). Any suggestions? Thanks

Returning to Curaçao is a bit like reopening a book whose pages still smell of sun and salt.

As soon as the plane descends toward the island, the familiar colors reappear: the dazzling turquoise of the sea, the pastel facades of Willemstad, and that unique light that seems to soften everything.

For this second trip, we no longer arrive as hesitant explorers, but as confirmed lovers of this warm island.

We already know that the warm wind will welcome us as soon as we step out of the airport, that the beaches will once again offer their infinite shades of blue, and that each day will have that unhurried pace that makes you forget the rest of the world.

Yet, despite this sense of déjà vu, Curaçao always manages to surprise. A new cove to discover, a different sunset, a smile shared with a local...

The island has that rare talent for reinventing itself without ever betraying what makes it so endearing.

This second trip isn’t a repetition, then, but a reunion: a chance to rediscover Curaçao with more attentive, more connected, and perhaps even more amazed eyes.

I invite you to keep reading this travel journal and watch the videos that will help you learn a little more about the island’s different attractions.

Just click on the video image to start watching.

To go to a specific post, here are the appropriate links:

Exploring Willemstad’s colorful neighborhoods The Most Beautiful Beaches in Curaçao Hike at Boka Sint Michiel | Flamingos & panoramic views Climbing Christoffel Mountain Den Dunki & Flamingos of Jan Thiel Must-see spots in Curaçao Snorkeling at Playa Kenepa Chiki: Turquoise Water & Tropical Fish Snorkeling at Porto Mari: One of Curaçao’s Best Spots Snorkeling at Mambo Beach, the Perfect Spot Snorkeling at Daaibooi Beach, a diverse marine world

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.

Hi everyone.

I’d describe myself as a "former diver." I’ve done around 450 dives in natural environments across different settings. I put diving on hold about 5 years ago due to work/schedule constraints and, let’s say, family reasons. Since then, I’ve still tried to stay in shape with hiking trips, running, swimming, and freediving in protected environments, etc... I’m planning to get back into the bubbles somewhere this year. Any destinations you’d recommend—or avoid—for getting back into it? I’m looking for a spot for April/May this year.

Any tips or ideas?

Thanks

Hi there, we’re planning a trip to Norway next June. Since my partner gets vertigo, renting a car is out of the question. So, we’re thinking of doing the Bergen to Kirkenes route by cruise—6 nights, 7 days—with either Hurtigruten or Havila. Is this journey as amazing as it sounds? Is one provider better than the other?

Basically, any tips would be super helpful.

Thanks.

Hello everyone! Like every year, a winter migration is on the horizon (revised plan): this time, it’ll be Dakar, or even Abidjan, via Morocco, Mauritania, and Senegal. Looking for an experienced motorcyclist or pillion rider—small build preferred—on a GSA 1250 with a comfy seat and luggage setup, available from early November to late December 2025. I’d like to plan the trip together (important to me) to make sure we’re on the same wavelength. Don’t hesitate to get in touch! Didier

Hello my friends, You can't imagine how happy I am to be back on my beloved site, loved by its traveling men and women!!!!! I want to travel with my little family (by car, not 4x4) from Taliouine to Tafraoute—it's a route I haven't taken yet (I've already done the one via Igherm), and I don't know the condition of the R106 road. Then, once that's done, our destination will be Zagora via Foum Zguid. I don’t want to go to Tata; my wife can’t stand that city. (I don’t mind because there’s a little local bar that’s not bad ;)) If you have any info, especially about the road conditions in October, I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks so much, and I’m so happy to be back here.

Hello travelers who’ve chosen Chile as your destination! 🙂

I’m offering a stay in Santiago, in a central neighborhood where metro lines 3 and 5 intersect—perfect for exploring the Chilean capital.

For couples, this beautifully decorated studio with a breathtaking view of the Andes is a must-see: airbnb.cl/h/indiana-homes-busta1504

For families up to 4 people, this 2-bedroom apartment is fully equipped: airbnb.cl/h/indiana-homes-busta609

These are two apartments in a modern building inaugurated in 2024, right across from Plaza del Parque Bustamante. Prime location with direct access to Irarrázaval metro station (lines 3 and 5), surrounded by cafés, shops, and just a 5-minute walk from Barrio Italia—a must-visit! !

"Les rencontres voyageurs" is a must-attend event for all travel enthusiasts, at the heart of France’s most beautiful gatherings.

Whether you're a seasoned traveler or a beginner looking for your first adventures, these meet-ups aim to bring people together, inspire, and share knowledge.

They offer a unique opportunity to chat with inspiring travelers, discover their authentic stories, their favorite spots around the world, and their practical tips for traveling peacefully and enrichingly 😉

"Les rencontres voyageurs" also feature conferences and masterclasses led by industry experts, covering a variety of topics such as responsible travel, content creation, and optimizing itineraries.

These sessions, both practical and inspiring, are designed to expand your knowledge and fuel your projects. On top of that, there are fun and educational activities, including the famous traveler quiz, encouraging exchanges and conviviality. Finally, visitors can explore an exhibition of travel vehicles, vans, 4x4s, nomadic equipment, and chat with professionals about van conversions, mobility, and innovations dedicated to vanlife. A complete, immersive experience that’s all about discovery.

According to a recent report, Japan is emerging as the most popular destination for summer 2025, with a notable increase in bookings for Tokyo (+19%) and Osaka (+17.2%) compared to 2019. The depreciation of the yen is contributing to this attractiveness.

Paris remains a must-visit European destination.

The Asia-Pacific region is showing a strong recovery, with cities like Shanghai, Seoul, Beijing, and Singapore ranking in the top 10.

Among beach destinations, Mallorca (Spain), Nha Trang (Vietnam), Rio de Janeiro (Brazil), and Hurghada (Egypt) are particularly in demand.

Tirana, the Albanian capital, is experiencing exceptional growth of +178.8% compared to 2019, largely due to an influx of European visitors, particularly Italians.

Additionally, Jeddah in Saudi Arabia is seeing a 27.2% increase, confirming its emergence as a tourist destination.

Read the article

With expected crowds in countries like Croatia, Italy, Greece, or Spain, other destinations stand out for their tranquility and accessibility.

Recommended:

Berlin: for its cultural vibrancy

Warsaw: for its heritage and green spaces

Riga: for its architectural charm and relaxed atmosphere

Stockholm: for its balanced natural and urban setting

Slovenia: for its landscapes of mountains, lakes, and authentic small towns

These cities and regions let you enjoy a fulfilling stay while avoiding the tourist pressure of the most popular areas.

Read the article...

“Slow travel” is a concept that some tout as a philosophical revolution in travel. But on closer inspection, it’s nothing more than a marketing repackaging of an age-old practice.

This term is wrapped in an aura of intellectualism. It promises to reinvent the experience of travel by valuing slowness, contemplation, and cultural immersion.

The term “slow travel” claims to bring depth to travel, but it often relies on clichés.

Taking your time, meeting locals, avoiding quick visits—these practices have always existed and are nothing revolutionary.

Before the era of airplanes, high-speed trains, and express stays, traveling necessarily meant taking your time. Pilgrims, merchants, and explorers already practiced a form of “slow travel,” without hashtags or self-proclaimed spiritual guides.

Crossing lands on foot or by horse required total immersion in the landscapes, cultures, and unpredictability of the journey. Yet, no one attributed philosophical intentions to them: it was a necessity.

Slow travel, in its current version, may be less a philosophy than a reflection of the contradictions of an affluent class searching for meaning in a world they help overload.

So-called “slow” travel is presented as a privileged way to understand a culture, but this claim is debatable. A region never represents an entire country.

Immersing yourself in a community doesn’t guarantee a complete or more authentic understanding than any other way of traveling.

Slowness in itself doesn’t guarantee depth or ethics. You can immerse yourself in a place over a weekend, just as you can spend months in a country without grasping its subtleties.

By positioning itself as an antidote to “fast” tourism, slow travel fetishizes a temporality that only makes sense if it’s accompanied by real openness and an effort to integrate.

But this over-intellectualization often masks a desire to belong to a trend or a need to stand out socially.

Behind this posture sometimes lies a whim: the urge to reinvent one’s life elsewhere in an idealized form. But this quest for elsewhere remains fundamentally a way to escape or respond to unease, rather than a true commitment to the cultures visited.

When we talk about “encounters” while traveling, we often forget that these exchanges are facilitated by biased contexts. As a traveler, you’re seen as a temporary visitor, unattached, and that changes the dynamic.

Locals, whether curious or used to tourists, adopt a different stance than they would with a neighbor they see daily.

This interaction is also tinged with asymmetry: the traveler has the luxury of time and availability, while in daily life, personal concerns often take precedence over the desire to connect.

The flip side is that the openness displayed while traveling is often a facade. We boast about chatting with a fisherman or sharing a meal with a local family, but how many of these encounters lead to a real understanding of cultural differences or sincere reflection?

Once home, these moments become anecdotes, social trophies to show off, without fundamentally changing our relationship with others in our daily lives.

By imposing a definition, we push people to adapt their practices to fit an idealized model. This can lead to a paradoxical standardization: “slow travel” becomes a checklist of behaviors (meetings, immersion, slowness).

The “bobos” (bourgeois-bohemians), often in search of meaning in a world saturated with options, believe that giving a name to a practice grants it legitimacy or moral value. But this obsession with framing and theorizing travel only drains it of its spontaneity.

Someone who grew up at the crossroads of multiple cultures, on the other hand, doesn’t feel this need. For them, traveling isn’t a philosophical project but an intrinsic part of their life.

The very concept of “slow travel” can seem absurd: why glorify what’s simply natural?

Why try to turn into an ideology what should be a personal, intimate experience, free from semantic constraints?

Ultimately, this need for labeling, this frantic quest to name every gesture, reveals a society craving simplicity.

Travel, in its purest form, doesn’t need justification or slogans. It doesn’t need slowness or speed: it’s simply lived.

Perhaps the real challenge is to unlearn this Western habit of conceptualizing everything that should simply be felt.

For many, travel is a parenthesis, a temporary break from daily life. But if we reject this distinction between “home” and “elsewhere,” every human life becomes a continuous journey through varied environments.

From this perspective, “slow travel” loses all meaning, because living somewhere—whether for a week or five years—is part of the same experience of adaptation.

So, we ask the fans of marketing slogans: is travel a parenthesis or a journey?

“Slow travel” is often driven by a Western eco-bobo ideology, tinged with post-colonial guilt. This discourse promotes a supposedly virtuous way of traveling while forgetting that these practices remain a privilege.

Far from deconstructing power dynamics, it sometimes reinforces them by glorifying a different kind of consumption, still centered on comfort.

There’s also a condescending side to this rhetoric. By idealizing slowness, slow travel advocates imply that those who travel quickly or on a budget are less “authentic” in their approach.

Yet, isn’t that a form of contempt? Do those who leave for a well-deserved week after months of hard work deserve less consideration?

Concepts like “slow travel” or “sustainable tourism” seem hollow when reduced to marketing slogans or standardized behaviors. They confine travel to preconceived frameworks, stripping it of its spontaneous and unpredictable dimension.

Instead of categorizing, it would be more relevant to recognize the plurality of human experiences without trying to define them.

Slow travel doesn’t invent anything. It simply puts into words—and often slogans—what travel has always been for those who practice it with intention.

Maybe we should stop trying to theorize every movement and simply rediscover travel for what it is: a human experience, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always personal.

More info on our site

Just back from a week on Nosy Boraha, better known as Île Sainte-Marie. Mostly on Île aux Nattes, actually, at the very south of the island—literally just a few hundred meters from Sainte-Marie’s airport. Far east of Madagascar, and if you keep going straight, you’ll hit Australia.

We flew in through that airport to avoid a long, rough road trip before and after Tamatave, plus a boat ride that could be short or long (boat time was inversely proportional to the bus ride to the port for the Sainte-Marie ferry). No issues with Tsaradia—departures and returns were on time, service was impeccable, and the ATR plane was smooth. Too bad the prices are so high. We managed a change due to a delayed Kenya Airways flight.

First, we stayed in the northern half, on the west coast of the island, at Natiora Green Lodge. The place is absolutely stunning—a little cove opening onto a small bay dotted with rocky outcrops under lush vegetation. The bungalows are practically on the beach, in a gorgeous, forested setting alive with birdsong. It’s the perfect spot for a pirate crew and just begs for daydreaming. No reef barrier, so it gets deep pretty quickly, but the rocks have healthy coral and plenty of small fish. Great snorkeling—we even saw a turtle. Really, really nice. The only downside is that it’s a bit far from the island’s center and kinda isolated, so eating anywhere but the hotel or going for a walk without a rental car or tuk-tuk is tricky. Not impossible, but harder than if you’re somewhere livelier.

Next, we moved to Île aux Nattes at Baboo Village, which overlooks the channel between Nosy Boraha and Nosy Nato. The bungalows are right on the water, nicely and simply decorated, with a restaurant and terrace right next door. You get to the hotel directly by pirogue from Sainte-Marie’s "embarcadère"—it takes 2-3 minutes, or a little longer if the motor’s acting up. The owner is super friendly and welcoming, with a relaxed, "family/friendly" vibe. There are often a few lemurs in the hotel’s park, adding life to the place, and the vegetation is beautiful once again. The path that circles the island starts right at the hotel entrance, making it easy to reach the island’s dock and the different beaches on the west, east, or even south. Several restaurants are within walking distance, and nothing’s far by pirogue anyway. You can also find the island’s "center" with a few small shops for basic supplies or a meal at a hotely. Since there’s no electricity on the island, the generator at the hotel runs from 6 PM to 10 PM, but you can charge your phone anytime by leaving it at reception. Kayaks are free to use and great for exploring—the whole island is doable, even if you’re not an expert. Just take your time. The upside of Île aux Nattes and Sainte-Marie’s east coast is the reef barrier and lagoon (unlike the west side), which means those gorgeous water colors, accessible coral, and shallow swimming spots. The only downside of Baboo for me, since I love snorkeling, is its location right on the channel. Personally, I prefer the south side of Île aux Nattes (near the Aurora) or the east side (like Kintana) for the lagoon views and easier snorkeling (though my wife didn’t agree). But as I said, those spots are still super easy to reach from Baboo. The west side’s okay, but I like it less—except for the view of Madagascar and the sunset. Again, totally subjective.

On Sainte-Marie, we didn’t try any restaurants other than Natiora’s. Not a ton of options, but it was fine. We weren’t fans of Chez Nono in Baie d’Ampanihy—overpriced for the tiny portions. Sure, the crab was good, but there was so little of it for the price. A bit of a rip-off, since crabs are everywhere and can’t cost much for Nono. On Île aux Nattes, there are plenty of little restaurants. We tried three—Chez Adelaide, La Buvette, and Coco Sud—and every time, we had fish or seafood, and it was always good and generous, with great achards. Prices were very reasonable.

Of course, we soaked up the time, the light, the beauty of the place, the sounds, the smells... just chilling in full *tranquillou billou* mode.

We also did some activities. Snorkeling—I’ll come back to it. In 2019, I thought it was a disaster, with no nice spots and really disappointing. This year, I jumped in everywhere I could and tested spots I’d spotted on Maps or during my last trip. And it was *really* good. Mostly on Île aux Nattes: the south side near the sacred islet, west in front of Kintana, west north of the channel (especially the sand islets), and on Sainte-Marie at Natiora’s rocks. Lots of healthy coral and plenty of fish typical of the area. If you’re into big fish, this isn’t the place, but if you love coral and little critters, it’s awesome. Snorkeling outside the reef was disappointing again, and diving was too. Unless you get lucky, it’s not worth it, in my opinion.

The tour of Île aux Nattes with a meal included was great—perfect for taking breaks whenever you find a pretty spot to snorkel or just relax on a nice beach.

A trip to the sand islets was also really fun. You can’t stay long because it gets super hot, and you’re at the mercy of the tides. There’s a good flock of terns that probably nest there. The coral reefs on the east side of the islet are gorgeous. Really, really nice. Plus, the islets themselves are just stunning.

We chose to go to Ampanihy via the lagoon, hugging the shore—it’s beautiful, with amazing colors, a wilder coastline than the west, and views of seaweed farms. It’s a long trip, though, and at Ampanihy, there’s a pretty beach (but there are tons elsewhere) and a nice mangrove. Maybe it’s better to go by road to the bay and take a boat to explore the lagoon and stop somewhere without going all the way to Ampanihy, saving yourself 2 hours of boat time round-trip. Once there, you can take a little pirogue tour to the beach and through the mangrove. The way we did it, the trip wasn’t essential. As I said, Chez Nono was disappointing—bring a picnic or try Chez Samson instead.

Of course, we visited the pirate cemetery, a place I love even though there’s not much left to see—just a few graves, unfortunately, and some vandalism. The site is still magical, though, and you can let your thoughts drift with La Buse and William Kidd, who passed through here.

We organized all our outings with Crépin, who runs two small boats with his brother. We met him totally by chance, but we don’t regret it. We could adjust the trips based on what we wanted—where to stop or which spot to visit next—and Crépin handled the meals. Prices were super affordable for a full day. I can share his number if you want. We didn’t try anyone else, but I’m sure there are other great operators—I just can’t compare or recommend.

Good prep for anyone looking for an alternative to Nosy Be. Way fewer activities, sure, but also way fewer people and a really nice vibe on Sainte-Marie in general, and Île aux Nattes in particular. The beaches are more beautiful than Nosy Be’s, and there’s a reef and lagoon (it *is* the pirate island, after all). And in whale season, well, the whales.

All in all, a great place to stay for a trip.

Hi there, I’m heading to Florence soon, and since I want to visit as many museums as possible, I’m thinking of getting the Firenzecard (or Firenze Card). From what I’ve gathered online (and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong), with this card, you need to call a phone number to book a specific time slot for the Uffizi Gallery (+39 055 294883). Unfortunately, when I try calling this number from my mobile, I get a message saying the number “is no longer in service.” Has anyone else run into this? Could it be an issue with my phone plan, or has the number changed? Thanks in advance for your help. w.

Hi fellow bike-packers, so I’m heading out solo by bike this spring, like I do every year—around 1,500 to 2,000 km in total. This time I want to explore the south of France. I’ll start by meeting up with a buddy in Ariège, and after that the road’s wide open toward the east, aiming for Drôme. If anyone has route ideas—especially quiet backroads, places I can wild-camp pretty much anywhere, and climbs that aren’t too steep—I’m all ears! Thanks, and see you around here or on the road. Take care.

Hello, If Ethiopia fascinates you, draws you in, and like me you don’t want to visit this country solo… maybe we could exchange ideas with the goal of sharing a driver and a French-speaking guide (?). I’ve traveled a lot on my own (Peru, West Africa, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, a few European countries, some U.S. states, Greece, Mexico, etc.—backpacking, hostels, public transport, local restaurants), also with a friend (Iran, Tibet, China, Russia, Gabon, South India), with my husband (Egypt, Vietnam, Canada 3 times, Florida, Jordan, North India, Dominican Republic, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Croatia, among others). He doesn’t want to travel anymore, my girlfriends aren’t interested in Ethiopia, and I don’t feel like going alone this time.

My last solo trip was last October (2024) in San Francisco. I loved it. I’m in my seventies now… pfff… but in great shape, physically resilient, good walking endurance, 40 years old in my head… I love music, I choose restaurants more for the local vibe than the menu (I adapt)… no fixed schedule, but I can adjust there too—sandwich or fruit for lunch, a little beer in the evening, and most importantly: no stress! Cool, cool… When traveling as a duo, if one of us wants to spend the day or evening alone, we meet up afterward, and it’s perfect. I’m more talkative in writing than in person—I love listening! So… if the adventure tempts you, don’t hesitate.

I’m in touch with a woman currently there who gave me the contact info for the guide she’s traveling with in the southern region, near the Omo tribes (she has a Facebook companion).

I spoke on the phone this morning with a "seasoned traveler" —we have a lot in common, and we’d be up for going together.

Forming a small group (4/5 people) would be ideal. February is a great time (climate-wise). The south is generally safer than the north, but nothing’s set in stone—nothing’s planned yet. Everything’s open to discussion and we’ll figure it out together!

Best to you, and looking forward to exchanging ideas!

Annick

Bonjour à tous et à toutes ,

J’ai comme projet de partir avec mon chien en itinérance vélo en Septembre de Toulouse à nice . Je souhaite passer par montpelier puis marseille puis destination finale. J’ai un peu étudié l’itinéraire et je pensais prendre le canal de Toulouse jusqu’à Sète. Première question connaissez vous le chemin le plus sécurisé pour rejoindre montpelier depuis Sète ? Je vais tirer mon chien grâce à une remorque enfant et donc je souhaiterais éviter le plus possible les routes avec beaucoup de passages. En-suite je voulais savoir si quelqu’un l’avait déjà fait ? Puis de montpelier à Nice je pensais emprunter l’eurovelo 08 . Je voulais savoir si quelqu’un connaissais une meilleure option car je souhaite vraiment m’arrêter à Marseille et cette route longe mais n’y passe pas tout à fait. Dernièrement je suis en train de préparer le voyage et j’ai la remorque pour chien mais je compte investir dans un vélo solide , en vue de ce projet et des futures projets sachant que j’ai le poids d’un chien de 24 Kg a tirer. je me suis renseignée et chaque site propose une marque et un vélo différent dit performant et il y en a tellement et tellement de marques. Je n’ai pas non plus un énorme budget sachant que je compte acheter tout le matériel qui’il faut avec mais je comptes quand même investir un peu dans le vélo . Alors avez vous des conseils pour le vélo , la marque et le matériel que ce du matériel de bikepacking et toutes autres conseils que vous poubez me donner ?

Merci Clara

Chapada Diamantina National Park (also known as Brazil’s Grand Canyon) will begin reopening gradually, in phases and by village. Mucugê, for example, will be fully accessible starting August 31st. The only restrictions still to be clarified are events with more than 10 people and schools. I’ll post updates on the other villages in the park as soon as they’re available. Warm tropical greetings from Salvador da Bahia, Ivan Bahia Guide

Je déteste toujours autant marcher et pourtant, je recommence.

Comme un sentiment d’urgence pour n’entendre que les battements de mon cœur si secoué de peine qu’il ne me fallait plus entendre ni compréhension, ni compassion de quiconque.

Être seule, vraiment seule.

La terre est vivante, douée de mémoire et je ne voulais que cette mémoire. Je ne voulais m’encombrer de rien.

Homme sceptique un peu goguenard : « Fais-le mais je me souviens bien de ta dernière expédition ! » C’était il y a dix ans ou plus, je ne me souviens plus. « C’est facile, y’en a eu qu’une ! » Des pieds en plomb, les mollets noués, l’estomac creux, les aisselles malodorantes, les bras griffés mais j’avais vécu l’intense sentiment d’avancer malgré toute ma paresse et mon inexpérience. « Où veux-tu aller ? » « Au Mont-Beuvray » « 50 km en voiture, 100 aller-retour, ça va je pourrais aisément te récupérer, tu prévois combien de jours ? » Il rit.

« Chais pas, 10 km par jour, pas plus, et comme j’y vais au pif, je ne saurais pas ce que j’ai parcouru, je m’arrêterai quand j’en aurais marre, je verrai bien ».

La veille du départ, Fils aîné au téléphone, moqueur : « Maman, t’es toujours aussi dingue. Tu ne marches jamais, t’as même pas de bonnes godasses, tu f’rais mieux d’aller chez xxx, là, tu te ressourcerais. Un jour, il t’arrivera des bricoles avec tes idées huluberlues.../... » « Ehh, je ne monte qu’au Mont-Beuvray, tu parles d’une expédition ! » « Ouais mais t’as vu ton âge ? » « Merci mon grand. Tu sais, il y a tellement de gens qui marchent pour de bon, des centaines de kilomètres sur toute la terre. Marcher pour le plaisir, marcher pour aller chercher de l’eau au puits, marcher en compétition, marcher pour aller à l’école, pour tous ceux là, je vais faire une balade, une promenade de santé, ça n’a rien d’une aventure ou d’un exploit, j’vais mettre un pas d’vant l’autre et recommencer, c’est tout. »

Et le 13 juin, j’ai pris le sentier forestier derrière la maison.

Le sac à dos, celui dont je me sers pour le goûter des petits, est rempli avec un kway, un morceau de bâche. J’ai coupé celle qui traînait par terre recouvrant la moto pour la protéger des chiures d’hirondelles, un pull, la gourde, un gant de toilette, un savon, ma brosse à dents, un sac de cacahuètes bien grasses et bien salées, des bananes sèches bien trop sucrées, cinq pommes et mon opinel. Il a une forme bizarre ce sac, comme un ballon accroché à mon dos. Il pèse 2,8 kg. Et dans les poches de mon pantalon en toile, à droite mes clopes et mon briquet, à gauche le-pied-de-biche-à-tiques. J’me demande à quoi il me servira si j’ai une tique dans le dos ou sur la nuque ! J’ai rajouté ma carte d’identité, 40 euros, et concession pour Homme, mon téléphone. Il veut me géolocaliser. C’est qu’il m’aime Homme, à lui tout seul un océan dans lequel je nage avec tant de bonheur. Mais là, pas de nage papillon, des pas.

Et quand le téléphone n’aura plus de batteries ? On verra bien. Je dis toujours -on verra bien - .

Dans le Morvan, les fées laissent leurs empreintes surnaturelles et comme je n’ai aucune carte, je ne sais pas les lire et n’ai pas envie d’apprendre, je vais leur faire confiance. Le soleil se lève à l’est et se couche à l’ouest, je dois aller à l’ouest, je suivrai sa course.

Et le 13 juin, j’ai serré les paupières pour repousser l’aube naissante. Je n’avais plus du tout envie de partir, plus du tout envie de marcher. Mais quand la brûlure salée a piqué derrière les paupières comme tous ces derniers jours, je n’ai pas reculé. J’ai lu un jour que les mauvais souvenirs et les chagrins ont de longues ombres et si on passe notre vie dedans on ne verrait plus jamais le soleil.

Ce 13 juin, le soleil était là alors, j’ai pris le sentier derrière la maison.

J’m’en vais vous raiconter l’ histôère

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Bonjour ,

J'avais planifié un voyage en Grèce avec comme aller ( Marseille / la Canée) et le retour sera Santorin/ Marseille avec Volotéa .

J'avais envoyé un mail pour leur demander , mais je n'ai pas eu de réponse , et j'ai peur de rester blquée en Gréce

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