Results for "Belur+|+7+>+8"

je reponds à la demande de Ben, je remets une photo en jeu, facile, et commence une nouvelle discussion au titre clair ... Dans quelle ville a été prise cette photo ?

Bonjour a tous, je tapote en live d'un cybercafe miteux d'Ahmedabad, impropice a la reflexion mais plus a la contemplation de la vie qui s'agite ici, je vous livre donc mes interrogations en esperant que vous puissiez y repondre le plus precisement possible, merci d'avance : Quelquun est il passe a Varanasi tres recemment ? J'aimerai m'y rendre dans les semaines qui viennent, mais j'ai lu que la ville etait inondee, est ce que dans les conditions actuelles s'y rendre vous parait interessant, est ce que cela vaut la peine ? Etant ici (Inde dite du Nord) jusqu'a fin Aout, je me rendrais a partir de Dehli jusqu'a Leh, 2 itineraires me tentent : Dehli - Manali - Kullu - Leh (en bref et en bus), mais surtout l'autre qui consiste a parti plus a l'Ouest, passer par Amritsar, Dharamsala, Jammu, Srinagar puis Leh. Y'a quelqu'un qui m'a dit - ... - que la region frontaliere du Pakistan etait peu sure actuellement, ainsi est ce qu'il s'agit d'une prise de risque inconsideree que d'emprunter le 2eme itineraire ? Bien sur que je me satisferais de passer par Manali, mais je suis irremediablement attire par le 2eme chemin, micro-trottoir : Votre avis nous interesse. (Merci) Avec mes 2 amis, nous allons traverser tranquillement le Rajhastan, en passant par : Chittorgarh, Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaipur, Jaisalmer, Pushkar, Ajmer, Mt Abu... Dans le desordre, en combien de temps pensez vous que je puisse visiter ces villes, me conseiller vous d'ajouter certaines etape / en retirer pour se laisser le temps de profiter ?

+ Je suis preneur de toute bonne adresse dans les villes citees ci dessus, eventuellement quelques expatries francais/europeen ou indiens accueillant, parlant anglais, ou tres communicatif + Pour le fun, quelqu'un a t-il deja essaye d'importer un Rickshaw ? Merci pour vos reponses

Paul

Bonjour,

Je continue de préparer mon voyage au Vietnam pour août et je m'interroge sur la nécessité de réserver dès maintenant les mini circuits sur Sapa-Bac Ha et baie d'Halong.

En effet, quand j'ai pris contact avec une ou deux agences, elles m'ont parfois donné des tarifs différents de ceux indiqués sur leur site . De plus, elles demandent un paiement d'avance et les moyens de paiement ne sont pas sécurisés ( photocopie recto verso de ma carte de crédit et de mon passeport !). En fin de compte, je préférerais choisir et payer cash mes circuits sur place mais savez-vous si les agences sont surbookées en août et s'il est facile de trouver un circuit ainsi au dernier moment ?

Merci d'avance de vos réponses

Françoise

voila, on part les deux mois d'été au maroc et on est a la recherche de bonne adresse avec des chevaux réspécté, pour éfféctué une belle rando dans des paysage mémorable. toutes vos éxperiances et tout vos tuyau son bien venu.

cordialement

Bonjour à tous !

Je pars pour Cadaqués, Espagne, dans quelques jours. Cela semble assez joli par rapport aux villes bétonnées de la côte.

1 - Que me conseillez-vous comme autre lieux dans les environs, autre que Barcelone (50 km max) ? 2 - Savez-vous s'il est possible de louer et conduire des scooters ? Si oui à quels tarifs ?

Merci d'avance et bonne continuation dans votre passion !

Benoît

Question existentielle qui s'adresse à des métros ou ex.métros :

j'ai eu l'occasion de converser avec des personnes contentes de leur récent statut de résidents calédoniens.

Je suis surpris.

A mon idée, je pensais que tout français est en droit, jusqu'à présent, selon ses désirs et moyens, de résider en NC.

Que veut donc signifier cette notion de " résidents calédoniens " ?

A l'excés, cela voudrait-il signifier que dans le futur, un gouvernement calédonien est en droit de refuser à une famille française son installation sur le caillou ?

Merci par avance pour vos différents points de vue.

🙂Bonjour,

Nous planifions un voyage à Cuba d'une durée de 2 semaines en fin février 2008 avec nos 3 enfants (7, 8 et 12 ans). Notre budget serait aux alentours de $3, 500 à $5, 000 (pour un forfait tout-inclus) pour notre famille de 5. Pourriez-vous nous indiquer un hôtel où l'on peut loger 5 personnes dans la même chambre afin d'éviter de devoir prendre 2 chambres et qui propose des tarifs intéressants pour les enfants (du style moitié prix pour les enfants). Nous aimerions aller dans un endroit à proximité d'activités intéressantes et culturelles pour nos enfants mais nous voudrions éviter Varadero. En fait, nous cherchons un endroit pas trop cher qui permettra aux enfants de faire de la plage mais aussi de faire d'autres activités pour se changer les idées pendant ce séjour de 2 semaines. Ce voyage est vraiment axé sur nos enfants, alors nous voulons qu'ils en profitent bien.Merci de votre aide.

Bonjour,

Voilà, je souhaite visiter les régions cotières de l'Algérie (Alger, Oran, Bejaia, Annaba, etc...). Cet été, j'aimerais faire Oran et ses environs.

Pour des raisons professionnelles, j'ai 10 voire 15 jours de vacances.

S'il y a des personnes dans mon cas qui souhaitent séjourner à l'hotel, partager une location, camping, merci de me contacter.

Je ne sais pas s'il est possible d'etre hébergée chez l'habitant. Si vous pouvez me donner des conseils (hotels, lieux...), ils seront les bienvenus, de même pour des jeunes femmes sur place qui pourraient me faire visiter.

A bientôt.

bonjour a tous, je pense partir en malaisie au mois de septembre, en fouillant ici et là j'ai pu lire que l'état du sarawak vaut vraiment le détour. mon objectif sera de découvrir la nature, les gens trouver des endroits un peu insolites. je voulais connaitre les différents moyens de locomotion pour se rendre sur bornéo, car je n'ai que 3 semaines. j'aurais aimé partir directement à bornéo par avion pour ensuite profiter, au retour, de KL, le centre. le mieux aurait été de trouver une arrivée kl et un retour depuis bornéo mais je ne sais pas si ça existe. pouvez vous m'aiguiller, et eventuellement me donner des conseils pour découvrir l'authentqiue et la nature sur bornéo. merci

Bonjour,

Ma copine et moi cherchons une destination pour faire du naturisme. Nous avons déja pratiqué le naturisme à Cuba. Nous cherchons une autre destination. est-ce que le naturisme se pratique en Guadeloup ou en Martinique ? Sinon pouvez vous nous faire quelques suggestions ?

Merci.

bonjour à tous!

nous sommes une famille de 3 (dont une ado de14 ans) et souhaiterions partir à borneo 4 semaines l'été prochain, notre programme pourrait être en gros: sarawak : kuching, parc bako, et batang aisabah : mont kinabalu, sandakan sepilok, kinabatangan, semporna (iles sipadan et mabul).

a part uncle tan pour faire un trek de 3j/2n à un prix abordable, nous recherchons des renseignements sur des hotels, treks et endroits sympas à ne pas manquer à des prix corrects car nous avons vu des prix assez élevés et nous ne sommes pas sur du budget exact pour borneo. pour les iles mabul et sipadan est il possible d' y loger?

merci beaucoup.

Bonjour. Je voudrais savoir comment va se passer le vol inaugural Paris-Chennai sur AF. Quelqu'un va le prendre ? Tarifs ? @+

bjr, dans le cadre d'une mission humanitaire de un mois en janvier 2007, je recherche à louer une voiture en bonne état, avec chauffeur serieux, pour circuler en brousse au Senegal oriental, au dela de Tambacounda .Nous serons 3 TOUBABS .Envoyer là-bas par une petite assoc française, ou chacun paie la totalité de ses frais et la facture location auto semble tres chere 45000 fcfa par jour plus le carburant, avez vous une solution moins onéreuse, merci

salut à tous! je suis étudiante en medecine et j'aimerai partir en Afrique l'année prochaine pour un stage. mon premier choix s'est porter sur Kinshasa mais je ne sais pas trop comment ça se passe là bas, dans le milieu médical. et pour les femmes en particulier? qqun peut me renseigner?????????? merci d'avance!😉

Bonjour

je recherche des adresses de campings au Maroc accessibles aux caravanes sur le circuit Tanger - Assaouira merci

Bonjour, on voudrait faire anakao fort dauphin en 4x4... par la côte et prendre le temps de visiter... nous sommes un couple mais nous sommes prêt à partager les frais avec d'autres personnes si vous avez... car notre pb est l'argent !! tous les prix que nous avons vus sur ce trajet sont très très chers !! le confort n'est pas notre priorité... nous arrivons à tana le 26 septembre et souhaitons descendre la rn7 pendant 10 jours... et partir pour fort dauphin...enfin le programme est souple que pouvez-nous proposer sur ce trajet ? tout en sachant que les prix vus à droite à gauche ne correspondent pas du tout à notre budget cordialement,

Bonjour a tous,

Je vais aller a Kota Kinabalu debut octobre pour une semaine de repos et decouverte nature si possible. Si quelqu'un connait des bons plans: hotel, visites, activites..., je suis preneuse! 🙂

Merci d'avance, Shivaree

Bonjour, beaucoup de personnes disent que Prague est une ville très agréable. Je pense y aller 3 jours, que me conseillez-vous ? Merci

Hello !

Mon agence de voyage m'a déconseillé Sumatra dans le cadre d'un voyage en Indonesie et me conseille plutôt Sulawesi et le pays Toraja... J'avais vu des images de Sumatra, les paysages me paraissaient superbes (lac Toba, pays Minangkabau, Gunung Leuser National Park, Pulau Samosir ...). Qu'en pensez-vous ?

Merci !

Namaste à tous,

Pour répondre au message de cette aprem, posté dans "sous-continent indien", je vous fait profiter de ma réponse envoyée à Fabricia, ceci est mon avis sur Titi et le votre m'interresse...j'espère que les réponses seront nombreuses...

je suis fan de Thierry Robin depuis un moment, effctivement c'est un "maitre" pour moi pour le oud, mais aussi la guitare... Pour te conseiller sur ses cd... je les ai quasiment tous je pense, sauf la compil tres recente qui vient de sortir. Donc tout depend pour toi, si tu ne souhaite qu'un album, je pense que celui-ci fera l'affaire:

"ALEZANE" - compil 2cd 35 titres dont 7 inedits CD 1 jour - CD 2 nuit, donc 2 ambiances differentes... pas écouté mais tres bel objet qui donne envie.. je risque de craquer meme si j'en ai déjà les 3/4 !

mais pour la passionné d'inde que tu es, il me semble plus indiqué l'album RAKHI avec Gulapi Sapera entendue dans l'emission, il ne faut pas s'attendre a de la musique indienne habituelle (tabla, sitar...) ce n'est pas celui que je prefere, mais il ya la voix de Gulapi que tu vas certainement apprécier...

mon préféré c'est CIEL DE CUIVRE : mélange royal de musique Tsigane, orientale, flamenco, indienne... la Musique gitane de l'Inde à l'Andalousie, en passant par le moyen orient... dans la suite logique de :

GITANS : longtemps la réference de TITI, peut-etre est ce parceque trop écouté je préfere desormais CIEL DE CUIVRE, mais l'album est excellent !

Il y a aussi KALI GADJI : plus ouvert jusqu'a l'Afrique et là Titi s'essaye a la tchache-rap, sympa mais pas le mieux pour moi...

LUTH et TABLA : Duo Oud et Tabla, excellent si on aime, moi j'adore...

Autre curiosité : AN TRI BEUR Imagine un trio improbable : Eric Marchand : chant breton dans la pure tradition du Kan a diskan - Titi : oud & bouzouq - Ahmed Khan : Tabla et ca marche !

LE REGARD NU : album intimiste experimental ou TIti "peint" avec son oud inspiré par un modèle nu...j'ai trouvé l'experience vraiment interressante

Il y a aussi un que j'ai pas, un live tiré de l'album GITANS

Voilà pour mon avis, sinon tu peux fouiner sur le oueb, tape dans google "titi robin discographie" par exemple...

Bonne écoute, si tu veux plus d'infos, n'hesite pas...

je l'ai vu 2 fois en concert (tarbes et Pau), c'est géant... s'il passe par chez toi fonçe...

Il ya a un carnet de voyage RAJASTHAN qui vient de sortir, écrit justement par TITI avec photos... et malheureusement pas de CD ! je me l'acheterai de retour du Rajasthan... bel objet !

Voilà pour Titi, ouf ! (j'ai mis quelques posts dans musiques du monde sur VF... qui parlent d'autres artistes. que je trouve incontournables...)

Et vous, qu'en pensez vous ? Dites moi comment sont les 7 inédits de la compil Alezane....

A bientot

Hey there, VF crew!

After wrapping up our travel journal on Java (link below), we’re now diving into our recent adventure in Puglia! Happy reading... Off we go on an adventure in Java (and a bit of Bali) | Travel journal > Indonesia | Voyage Forum

Day 1 - October 19

When you tell your friends and family you’re itching to escape to the other side of the planet to mingle with the Mongols, you can usually expect a barrage of questionable jokes and terrible puns. For this new adventure, it’s a different destination but the same old story—this time, we’re visiting the "pouilleux" (the "scruffy" ones). We’re taking off straight for Puglia! If you need a cheat sheet to remember where this oddly named place is on a world map, just think of it this way: Puglia is the maiden name on the ID card of the heel of the Italian boot! Personally, I prefer to remember it as the land of creamy burrata, the smell of focaccia fresh from the oven, orecchiette shaped by mamas, golden olive oil that shines like the sun (which beams down here 300 days a year), amaretto that makes you happy, and those famous trulli—those little hobbit-like dry-stone houses straight out of a movie set...

But I’ll stop spoiling the rest of our trip and focus on a factual rundown of this first Puglian day. So, are you joining us on this new adventure beyond our Gallic borders? Either way, Sasha (my youngest) and Luna (Flo’s daughter) didn’t need much convincing to stick with us and keep up the pace!

Our plane drops our little crew in Bari, the site of a famously tragic battle lost in 1991. But revenge is sweet! After renting a motorized carriage, we escape the landing zone and head to our military base of operations: Ostuni, a strategic little town where we’ll set up camp for the next four days. Why Ostuni? First, for its central location, which lets us explore a region packed with must-see gems. Second, for its vibe and beauty, which have earned it quite the reputation. Perched high on a hill, the *città bianca* (the "White City") lives up to its nickname. It literally dazzles visitors. The reason? The whitewashed facades of its houses, a testament to the region’s rich architectural heritage.





We arrived late last night, so only the two bravest soldiers volunteered to scout ahead at dawn, while the younger recruits stayed behind—for now. But not for long! After the first wave of streets and the next round of exploration, headquarters made the inevitable call to retreat. Reinforcements were needed! A few strategic errands, a breakfast ration, and our battalion marched in tight formation, flag held high, to conquer Ostuni the White! *Charge!* In my squadron leader’s memoirs, I’ll write that I didn’t expect Ostuni to put up such a fight. What I thought would take two hours to conquer turned into a humbling experience—we could only bow in respect to its beauty, its relentless charm. The alleys are whiter, more labyrinthine, narrower, and more photogenic than the last. *Veni, vidi, vici*—but what an entrance, my troops!

“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!

Monday, August 21, 2023 - Rochefort - Marans

No journal for the first two days. Day 1 - CARCANS-ROYAN Day 2 - ROYAN - ROCHEFORT Tonight I'm in MARANS in the "dry marsh" according to the campsite manager—it’s the first time I’ve heard of a "dry marsh"?!

Photos from the first two days

My gear



The Landes region—nothing extraordinary, but the calm and serenity are nice.



Le Verdon



The wild coast



This marsh isn’t dry, though.

Today is the third day of my trip, and I’m writing to you from a campsite in Marans. I’ve set out to bike from Carcans Maubuisson back to Plaisir. Why Carcans? Because we spent a week there as a family—a great week that lets everyone reconnect for a long stretch. Also, on Saturday, we all headed home—some by car, and me by bike. This journey is about 850 km via bike paths and small cycling roads. It’s not a sporting feat, just a nice long ride for fun. As the old Chinese sage says, "The destination doesn’t matter—it’s the journey that counts." But he also told me, "Traveling is great, but what’s the point if you don’t share it?" You see, this old sage has told me a lot of things—he often keeps me company when I’m biking. Of course, he doesn’t pedal, but we travel in harmony. Sure, he can be a bit annoying sometimes, but we still get along. All this to say I’ve created a group to share my story. I’d be happy to share this experience with you—it’s an adventure for me. On Saturday, I wasn’t sure I’d even leave because I’d been dealing with sciatica for days. Luckily, Juliette, a friend of the old Chinese sage, recommended a lifesaving remedy: Alternately stretching your legs with an elastic band under your foot. Obviously, a jam jar rubber band won’t cut it.

From Marans - The mosquitoes are attacking; time to head back to shelter.

The first two legs took me to Royan and then Rochefort. The Sèvre Niortaise flows nearby, and I followed a canal from La Rochelle. You could say the area is as dry as the marsh, judging by the state of the crops.



As I mentioned, it’s the third day, and if Jesus rose again on this day, for me it was more like the crucifixion. The scorching heat—only bearable when you’re moving—combined with rough trail conditions, and the old Chinese sage says, "Terrible roads, slow speed, and watch your limbs." I set out to do 60 km but ended up doing 80, and the last 20 were tough. I kept checking the GPS to see how much farther until the campsite. Today: Rochefort to Marans, sticking to the coast until La Rochelle, then no notable towns after that—just a constant canal. But since the sky isn’t too low, it hasn’t gotten lost. I’ve still got plenty of anecdotes to share, but it’s pitch black out, and the mosquitoes are still around. This morning, I counted ten in my tent, all full of my blood. Yesterday, at the end of the leg to Rochefort, I was really looking forward to crossing the Charente using the transporter bridge, but a sneaky GPS conspiracy led me far from it. I ended up crossing the Charente on a completely ordinary bridge, watching the transporter bridge in the distance with disappointment.

End of the first episode. Until tomorrow, if you’d like!

J'ai commencé mon tour du monde le 4 janvier a Delhi, puis Agra, Khajuraho, Bénarès et Kathmandu. Maintenant je suis a Pokhara, et je vais tenter le tour des Annapurnas, seul.

25/1 Je quitte l'hôtel Phewa au bord du lac et la civilisation a 8 heures. Directement une dure montée sur un petit sentier vers Sarangkot. J'ai acheté la carte très vague. Sur la crête déjà, j'erre un peu sur des traces le long des rizières entre les hameaux, avant de tomber sur le chemin principal. J'ai emporté un picnic. J'atteinds Naudanda a 1 heure 40 et je poursuis en côté, avec multes escaliers, jusqu'au col de Kahre a 3 heures 30.. Je passe la nuit dans mon premier lodge, grand dortoir dans la paille, je suis le seul étranger, les autres clients sont Népalais. Des musiciens ambulants donnent un concert plus tard. Dal bhat pour tout le monde le soir.

26/1 Pas de petit déjeuner dans les lodges. Thé seulement, et j'achète des biscuits. Après les nuages d'hier après midi, grand beau ce matin et belles vues en atteignant Chandrakot dans la descente. En bas a Birethanti vers 10 heures Je remonte la vallée secondaire et je m'arrête a Hille pour le dal bhat. Ensuite, il faut confronter les 600 mètres d'escaliers quasi ininterrompus vers Ulleri, ou j'arrive a 4 heures. Je ne suis pas rassuré parce que j'ai rencontré un jeune randonneur qui avait fait demi tour après avoir été agressé près d'Ulleri. Cette fois, je suis le seul client du lodge, de nouveau un grand dortoir dans de la paille.

27/1 Malgré ma peur, je pars seul dans les forêts denses jusque Ghorepani. La vue est entièrement bouchée, je décide de renoncer a Poon Hill et de gagner un jour sur le programme normal. La descente est interminable, mais j'arrive a Tatopani a 5 heures 20. Un pont suspendu est en piteux état. Je séjourne au Dhaulaghiri Lodge, mon premier lodge comme on les connait actuellement, petite chambre individuelle, menu avec des choix occidentaux comme la crêpe a la banane, et également d'autres jeunes trekkeurs et hippies.

28/1 Il pleut. Je reste un peu, Tatopani est très agréable. Mandarines. Et le bassin d'eau chaude. Quand on se retrouve entre étrangers, on se baigne nus. Le temps ne s'ameliore pas mais je pars quand même a 12 heures 20. Je croise des caravanes de mules, avec des décorations coloriées. C'est un peu loin pour atteindre Ghasa, mais j'ai emporté le matériel de camping pour traverser le Thorong La, donc je campe a un endroit isolé dans la vallée.

29/1 Le temps demeure gris et, comme cela monte en altitude vers Lete, il commence a faire froid. A 11 heures, j'attends que le dal bhat soit prêt dans un lodge a Kalopani. Je marche dans la haute vallée large et plate. Le chemin a flanc de coteau a été coupé par un glissement de terrain et il faut traverser 3 fois la rivière, sur des 'ponts' de fortune. J'arrive a 4 heures 30 a Tukuche, un village impressionnant avec ses vastes demeures en pierre autour d'une cour, d'ailleurs je dors dans l'une d'entre elles, je suis de nouveau seul.

30/1 Parti à 8 heures 30. Étape courte car je ne peux de toutes façons pas atteindre Muktinath aujourd'hui. Du coup, je fais le détour par le chemin secondaire du cote Est de la vallée via Thinigaon. A 12 heures 30, j'arrive à Jomosom et je choisis un lodge dans l'ancien village. Il fait très froid et je reste une bonne partie de l'après midi dans mon sac de couchage. Je fais un tour dans la partie administrative et moderne de Jomosom, vers l'aéroport. C'est le moins beau village depuis le départ.

31/1 Je pars à 8 heures 15 et je monte rapidement jusque Charkot. Le temps s'est mis au beau fixe. Dal bhat à Charkot et courte marche à Muktinath. Puis je vais visiter les temples. Superbe vue ici. Au lodge North Pole, grand dortoir avec des tables pour manger et un poêle. Nous sommes quatre, un couple allemand et un jeune Français. Celui-ci a tenté de traverser le Thorung Là aujourd'hui dans la neige et à fait demi tour. Il avait engagé un guide local mais celui-ci n'était pas très motivé, car il n'avait pas trop envie de retraverser le col tout seul ensuite.

1/2 J'essaye de convaincre les autres de m'accompagner dans ma tentative de traverser le Thorung La, peine perdue. Aujourd'hui acclimatation a l'altitude et reconnaissance. Je prends le sentier et, vers 4100 mètres, j'arrive au pied du col et a la neige. Je monte encore une heure. Au lodge, on mange très bien, il y a un menu, quoi que assez court.

2/2 Je pars dans l'obscurité à 5 heures 45. Je manque de chance, le vent souffle violemment. Du coup, les traces dans la neige ont disparu et je ne progresse que lentement. Je rencontre d'horribles congères, jusqu'à la taille, même jusqu'aux épaules. C'est de la poudreuse ultralegere , mais je perds beaucoup de temps. J'ai aussi dévié par rapport au chemin. Je bénéficie d'un superbe lever de soleil, le vent tombe, il fait superbe, je marche en T shirt. L'altitude me ralentit de plus en plus et vers 10 heures 30, 11 heures, je décide d'abandonner, sans doute proche de 5000 mètres. La descente est facile. Pour changer, je continue jusqu'au lodge moderne à Charkot, très bien, 3 ou 4 autres randonneurs ici.

3/2 Mauvaise nuit en contrecoup de l'altitude. Je fais un détour pour visiter le village médiéval de Kagbeni. Comme je n'ai pas utilise ma bouffe prévue pour le camping après le Thorung La, je cuisine mon déjeuner. L'après midi je dois affronter le violent vent contraire dans la vallée. J'arrive à Marpha à 3 heures, une petite chambre dans un lodge, seul. 2 Suédois ont volé une couverture tissée a la main dans le lodge de Charkot, le propriétaire les a poursuivis jusqu'ici, mais il ne va pas a la police.

4/2 Départ à 7 heures 50. Vues spectaculaires sur le Dhaulaghiri, puis le temps se dégrade. Pendant un moment, je suis sans difficulté une colonne de soldats qui font une marche forcée, une Japonaise et son guide aussi. De nouveau cuisiné mon déjeuner. Arrivée à 3 heures 30 au Mustang Lodge de Ghasa.

5/2 Descente le matin pour Tatopani en 3 heures 30. On m'a recommandé le Kamala Lodge. Repos ! Excellents repas, jardin, fleurs et potagers, bassin d'eau chaude et grande lessive ! Un peu le paradis (quand on voit a quoi Tatopani ressemble aujourd'hui ...).

6/2 Repos toute la journée, d'ailleurs je me sens fatigué. Au bain chaud. L'après midi je vais aussi à d'autres sources chaudes non développées au bord de la rivière.

7/2 Beau temps frais. J'ai décidé de varier, un autre itinéraire hors des chemins battus pour retourner à Pokhara. Pas en grande forme le matin, mais je marche sans problème sur le chemin rapide et facile dans la vallée tranquille. J'arrive à Béni à 13 heures 45. Béni est misérable et sale. J'ai emporte des pommes depuis Marpha, et quand j'en pèle une pour la manger, plusieurs enfants mendient les épluchures !

8/2 Beau temps. Je continue sur un chemin majeur, plat et rapide dans la vallée, dans l'agréable campagne tropicale. Je ne fais que de courts arrêts et à 13 heures 45, j'arrive au Friendly Hôtel à Kusma, un lodge bien plus agréable qu'a Béni.

9/2 Dernier jour ! Départ à 7 heures et montée du petit col de Karkaneta. Je marche maintenant sur un chemin majeur, avec des centaines de porteurs qui ravitaillent par ici une région très étendue dont la ville de Baglung. Les porteurs transportent du ciment (3 sacs de 20 kilos en général) ou même des canalisations de 10 mètres de long. Comme ils reviennent à vide, l'un d'entre eux veut que je l'engage comme porteur. Mais je suis en grande forme, je marche aussi vite qu'eux, on fait quasiment la course. Belle région fertile. Au sommet du col, il y a des lodges et je m'arrête pour le déjeuner, devant le panorama des Himalayas. Le dal bhat coute 15 roupies, environ 1 dollar, le the se paye en paisas. La descente est rapide mais très longue, et le chemin devient moins agréable vers Seti Dablan. Courte remontée, à 3 heures je rejoins la route Butwal Pokhara au petit bazar de Naudanda et j'attends le bus. Évidemment, il est bourré et, autre première pour moi, je voyage sur le toit jusque Pokhara. A 5 heures 30 je suis arrive a l'hôtel.

10/2 Repos, lessive, restaurants ... J'écris plusieurs cartes postales, j'ai même reçu une lettre de mes parents. Le téléphone, il ne faut pas trop y songer, un appel coûte aussi cher qu'une semaine de trek, et encore faut-il qu'on ait la ligne !

Bonjour à tous 🙂

2019 s'achève et il est grand temps de lancer cette nouvelle discussion pour partager le meilleur de l'année.

Sur le modèle des années passées, les principes à suivre sont les suivants : - 10 photos par membre, qui devront être numérotées, et postées dans un ou plusieurs messages, - ces photos doivent avoir été prises en voyage en 2019 - edit: sur suggestion de Kate, parmi votre sélection, une poignée pourra avoir été prise hors voyage - ce n'est pas un concours, il n'y aura pas de vote à clé - c'est en revanche l'opportunité d'échanger nos impressions sur les clichés (soyez prêts à recevoir des critiques positives... ou négatives, mais toujours constructives !)

En espérant vous voir nombreux sur la discussion, et y trouver la même qualité que les années passées !

Alors, qui se lance en premier ? 😉

Pour les nostalgiques, pour ceux qui en veulent toujours plus, voici les liens vers les best of des années passées (du moins, ceux que j'ai trouvés: qu'est-il advenu de 2016 et 2017 ?) : - 2012 - 2013 - 2014 - 2015 - 2018

Joyeuses fêtes à tous !

Bonjour

Avec mon compagnon nous allons partir pour le Népal dans deux semaines. Nous avons pris le même guide que son frère pour faire le tour des Annapurnas l'année dernière.

Il nous propose 1850 USD par personne... en regardant sur d'autres sites de trekeurs, je remarque que ce tarif est celui payé pour deux personnes en moyenne... soit moins de 1000€ par personne.

Est-ce que nous sommes en train de nous faire arnaquer? Si on peut parler d'arnaque (nous ne partons pas avec une agence afin de verser la totalité de l'argent au guide et aux sherpas). Il faut savoir que nous serons que deux personnes.

Quel est votre avis? Avez-vous des guides à nous conseiller?

Merci d'avance,

Vanessa

Bonjour, ceci est le carnet de mon voyage de deux semaines au Rajasthan. J'ai fait ce voyage fin février dernier, c'était une première pour moi en Inde. Le parcours : Delhi, Jaipur, Pushkar, Jodhpur, Ranakpur, Udaipur via Kumbhalgarh, Bundi via Chittorgarh, Jaipur, Delhi. Pour 12 jours sur place j'ai retiré du circuit classique Jalsaimer et Agra. Je voulais éviter le "un jour/une ville" et limiter les kilomètres entre les étapes. Pas évident car le Rajasthan c'est grand. Je n'ai donc pas vu le Taj Mahal, ce sera pour une prochaine fois, mais j'ai ainsi pu passer deux nuits dans certaines villes et arriver tôt dans la journée aux étapes. Je me suis organisé un voyage facile : voiture avec chauffeur et hôtels confortables, avec la perspective de ne jamais avoir à prendre le train de 6 heures du matin et de ne porter aucun sac. Pour un premier voyage en Inde je voulais des vacances, partir l'esprit, les épaules et le dos légers. J'ai même laissé à la maison le gros réflex, m'équipant seulement d'un compact du genre qui tient dans la poche. Un petite précision quand au budget : on peut faire un tel voyage pour 2000 €, billet d'avion compris. Tout s'est très bien passé, pas la moindre petite contrariété, que du plaisir, du merveilleux et beaucoup de photos. Je ne m'étendrai pas sur certaines réalités du pays liées à la grande misère, surtout dans les villes. On l'observe, c'est souvent choquant, on gère au quotidien son statut de touriste, et puis on s'en va rejoindre les grands circuits du Rajasthan.

D'abord un petit résumé de mes coups de cœur au Rajasthan :

1) Le temple jain de Ranakpur



2) Les puits à niveau de Bundi



3) Les ghâts de Pushkar



4) La forteresse Mehrangarh de Jodhpur



5) Udaipur



(Post modifié à la fin du carnet pour y inclure le résumé)