Results for "Salé+|+1+>+66"

Bonjour ! je cherchee quelqu'un en partance de paris à rabat (sale) en aviion à partir du 1 septembre 2007;pour envoye un medicament avec ordonance à un frere en urgence, (une petite boite) (qu'il a du mal à trouvé au maroc).merci infiniment d'avance! jazakoum allah!

Il semble que la route menant de la Paz à Rurrenabaque soit dans un sale état, la plupart des gens rencontrés ici à La Paz nous ont tous dit de prendre l'avion... pb c'est pas donné. Est-ce que la route en bus est si terrible que ça pendant cette saison?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* "Chimique" is a series of synthetic cannabinoids

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RESTAURANTS . Aliga Des plats gastronomiques qui allient sucré et salé à la perfection dans un cadre ultra design Hôtel Grau Roig Restaurant cosy en bas des pistes avec une pépite à sa carte: le soufflé à la pistache Chef's Table Classique mais incontournable: le croque monsieur au jambon ibérique et à la truffe Orange Goat Cafe Serious crush pour l'omelette avocat & bacon dans la formule brunch Refugi del Llac des Pessons Une omelette au jambon ibérique, qui dit mieux ? Siam Shiki Super parenthèse asiatique avant d'aller se relaxer au Spa Caldea . . PRENDRE UN VERRE . Atelier Pas de carte, seulement le barman qui vous confectionne un cocktail selon vos goûts et envies Hermitage Hotel Un hôtel 5 étoiles boisé où il fait bon de prendre un verre et grignoter Le Théâtre du Vin Pour une séance raffinée de dégustation de vins 13.5° Un bar à vin chaleureux où découvrir une super sélection de tapas . . Toutes les adresses sur le blog

Bonjour à tous! En prevision de la fin de notre trip à vélo au Chili (Valparaiso à +- Villa O'Higgins, donc +- 2500 km : robustes!), Valentine et moi cherchons à revendre nos deux vélos full équipés pour ce genre de trip! C'est avec un énorme pincement au coeur que nous nous séparons de nos jolis bébés 😭😉 Nous les aurions bien repris en avion mais nous en avons déjà en Belgique... Et on ne veut pas commencer une collection 😉 Vous pourrez les voir sur notre photo de profil (+ la photo ci-dessous) : - cadre acier - VTT Palomar modèle GT - taille standard (nous faisons 1,75m mais ca passe très bien avec 10 cm de plus ou de moins) - réhausseur de guidon pour le confort du dos - pneus VTT (idéal pour les nombreux chemins de rocaille) de 26 pouces - racks avant et arrière + 4 sacoches par vélo pour un total de +- 130 litres par vélo - achetés à Santiago de seconde main (donc prix de revente très accessible: 500€ par vélo (tout équipement compris)) et révisés par un mécano. - matos de réparation inclus. Les vélos devraient être disponibles à partir de fin février, début mars 2020 au sud de la carretera austral (normalement Villa O'Higgins). N'hésitez pas à me contacter ou à faire passer le message à vos amis motivés 😀 Pierre et Valentine

Ici il n'y a que du beau linge. On lave plus blanc. On peut aussi laver son linge sale...

♪ ♫ Est-ce qu'on peut ravoir à la machine ♫... la blancheur qu'on croyait éternelle... ♪♪♫

Nous devrions loger à circumvesuviana en mars 2018 . Le quartier est il simplemement populaire et peut être sale où est il dangereux de se balader après la tombée de la nuit. J'attends svp vos réponses .j'ai prévu de réserver ce we. Merci d'avance

Il y avait des poissons frits (Maquereaux courts) à la sauce pimentée et Brocoli Chinois sauté au poisson salé.

Bonjour, je voudrais savoir si on peut rouler pied au plancher sur le lac salé de la Death valley sachant que les records du monde de vitesse y sont souvent battus. Ou bien même là y-a-t-il des flics avec des radars ?? Bien entendu je précise que c'est pour un road trip en hiver car en été je me doute bien que par 50° les moteurs doivent rendre l'âme...

Bonjour,

Le départ approche🙂, nous allons passé 2 jours à Ao NAng, quelles plages me conseillez vous ?

Railay (bruyante et sale à ce que l'on dit??)? Poda ? Chicken Island ? etc... Une autre ? Peut-on y trouver un peu d'ombre ?

Comment s'y rendre : J'ai cru comprendre que le moyen le moins cher et le plus simple est de prendre un long tail boat sans passer par les agences.

Bref, je suis preneur de vos conseils et ...merci d'avance.

Bonjour, je pars très bientôt pour la RD.

Chaque fois, surtout pour des séjours de plus d'une semaine, mon linge sale ce cumule vite :) donc je ne lave quà mon retour en France.

Je pense que c'est un problème très répandu parmi les touristes. 😛 - et on n'aimerait pas retourner en France avec une valise qui pue.

Les services de lavage dans les Hotels sont prohibitives (3 $US la chaussette..!). Je n'ai jamais vu des services de lavage en libre service (type Lavomatic) ou avec quelqu'un à payer dans les zones touristiques.

Pour info je serais à Puerto Plata.

Quelqu'un peut me renseigner? Merci

🙂*Bonjour, nous partons à 5 , 3enfants de 9 à 15 ans pour 12 jours . Arrivée à CASA. Nous partons direct sur RABAT(salé pour passer la nuit) puis j'envisage un passage rapide MEKNES (1j), FES (3 jours). puis AZROU pour petite ballade cascades, forêt. Ifrane (le détour jusqu'au gouffre de triuoto est il mérité? ensuite j'hésite, l'idée n'est pas forcément de parcourir des kms au taquet donc soit tranquille BEni MELLAL et que nous conseilleriez vous aux alentours sur route retour CASA soit si ca vaut vraiment le coup devons nous filer sur midelt et gorge du ZIZ qui semblent aussi promettre un dépaysement total. Merci pour vos réponses!!le temps presse!!

Bonjour. Ayant beaucoup voyagé, je croyais avoir tout vu. Eh bien non, il me restait l'Inde!!!! Morne (le Rajasthan), sale, poluê à l'extrème, des, habitants n'ayant aucun sens civique ni de civilité, d'une pauvreté qu'il est impossible de décrire. Heureusement il y a ces palais et forts magnifiques.Les Maharajas vivaient dans un luxe inoui, ceci expliquant vraisemblablement mes remarques du 2ème paragraphe. Et puis il y a le Taj Mahal, absolument remarquable Mais jamais plus je ne retournerais en Inde

salut les voyageurs, j ai l habitude de voyager un peu partout mais neanmoins il m est arrive une sale aventure ce dimanche 16 decembre a la boca vers 15h, quartier de buenos aires a savoir que je me promenais tout tranquillement a pied avec un porteños responsable d une cinquantaine d annees quand nous avons ete victime , surtout moi, car j avais mon sac a main en bandouliere, d une attaque avec armes.j ai resiste tant que j ai pu en me couchant par terre pour proteger le sac et en me faisant trainer aussi , je le tenais ferme en hurlant comme un goret pour ameuter le monde, mais rien n y a fait , le sac a fini par craque, et devant ma resistance inhabituelle sans doute pour lui, le voyou m a file coup de poing dans le corps et visage.je m en tire avec des ecorchures et avec la perte d un appareil photo, mobile, c bleue, guide et 200 euros. alors attention a ce quartier mal note dans les guides, tres certainement , seule, je n y serai pas alle mais j etais en confiance d autant que nous faisions 3 ou 4 cuadras et que nous reprenions a chaque fois la voiture voila donc et prudence a vous tous

Je quittes pour JNB en février 2013 chez un ami qui vit là bas, et qui me promènera avec un sale véhicule militaire dans lequel on peut coucher, et qui fait du 4x4 sans problème.

J'ai vu que les prix d'essences sont aux alentour de 11.80R/Lt (pas mal ce que l'on paie içi au Québec, ie 1.30$ du litre). Est-ce que quelqu'un peut corroborer que ce prix est disponible pas mal partout ou il est affreusement cher près des parc?

Et si vous avez des propositions pour de la plongée dans le coin de Ste-Lucia, ou tout autre activité nautique qui va me faire pomper le sang... vos suggestions sont la bienvenue.

Simon.

Bonjour, j´ai étudié a Quezaltenango 2 semaines et je n´ai pas du tout aimer, la ville est bruyante, sale, il y fait très froids et sortir le soir toute seule c´est pas du tout recommandé, mon prof était bien mais ma famille d´accueil était trop éloignée et il n´y avait pas d´eau chaude. On m´a dit qu´Antigua était une ville beaucoup plus confortable pour étudier surtout au niveau de la sécurité, j´aime bien sortir le soir sans avoir peur de me faire agressée. Avez vous des bonnes adresses, j´aimerai une famille d´accueil avec un minimum de confort, il y a t´il des possibilités de travail volontaire sur Antigua, merci d´avance pour toutes les informations que vous pourrez me donner. Fernande.

Bonjour, est ce que quelq'un connait des resto pas cher a la reunion, a st pierre, st louis, etang salé, st leu et st gilles? si oui dites moi le prix environ et le nom du resto. merci

est ce que vous avez visiter tafedna??????? comment vous l'avez trouvé???

Je suis très déçu par cette ville aucun contact sympa, la ville est très sale, les transports sont inexistant au départ de la gare si vous arrivé le soir. il est préférable d'aller sur HYERES ou dans des petits villages juste à coté comme LE PRADET ou CARQUEIRANNE

Ils sont très propre avec de belles plages et de belles balades à faire

Toulon il y a surtout Le RCT et l'arsenal avec 1 ou 2 bateaux de guerre

21 jours en birmanie pour un circuit traditionnel yangon (2 jours) yangon-mandalay mandalay et ses environs bagan puis Sale et le mont Popa Lac inle (3 jours ) inle -yangon yangon -le rocher d'or je voudrais estimer le budjet qu'il faut compter pour les transports (entre les villes, les visites des villes et pour aller vers les sites...etc ..) merci

bonjour, je viens de m installer au maroc ou j ai rejoint ma femme a rabat sale ou elle travaille et y habite, elle est marocaine et moi francais, j ai 45 ans et je cherche du travail, je suis la depuis 15 jours mais c est trés dur de bosser , car il faut que l employeur te fasse un contrat de travail p our étranger , j ai de l expérience dans le commerce et le tourisme ( c est par l intermédiaire d une de mes animatrices , que j ai rencontré ma femme, c est sa cousine) on m a conseillé d ouvrir un commerce mais je sais pas trop , mais je vais devoir vite savoir , car j ai besoin de travailler pour gagner ma vie et aussi pour mes papiers, on m avait dit , qu étant marié a une marocaine , j avais droit a l autorisation d un an et la , je suis passé voir la police et on m a dit que non, voila si vous pouvez me conseiller ..... CORDIALEMENT

j'ai reservé au ifa villa bavaro(bungalow), je visite differents forum et on lit de tout!!!! vol, bouffe degue, sale, pour resumer une arnaque!!!!!!!!et d'autre on yretourne sans hésiter, superbe, rien à dire , propre etc!! comment s'y retrouver dans tout cela?j'ai un doute maintenant...... si il y a des gens objectif ça serait cool!!!!suis deballer avant de partir!!! merci à tous😉

Sont il encore aussi capricieux avec les défault sur les billets canadian, car je crois que un billet trop plier, sale, ecriture d'encre dessus et bien sur déchirer ne sont pas accepter a Cuba

J'ai déja eu de la difficulter avec un billet trop plier et un autre avec un petit coin déchirer, il n'ont pas voulu me l'échanger 😠

A avez vous déja vécu l'expérience😕

Nelson

Bonjour,

Je dois partir au cap vert demain via lisbonne, arrivée dans la nuit à Sale pour 4/5 jours. Nous partons en couple, mais je ne connais pas du tout le cap vert, auriez des "incontournables" à voir pendant ce court séjour ? Des adresses d'hotels ?? Des spots de planche à voile ou kite surf ?

Merci mille fois !!!!!!!!!!

Bonjour à tous,

Merci de me donner des adresses utiles pour louer petit appartement pour vacances à Salé, Rabat, Temarat, Bouznika ou Skhirat.

Cordialement.

je viens de refaire un tour sur les sites de previsions meteo et apres une petite accalmie il va refaire un sale temps juste les quelques jours ou nous serons la bas

que faire donc pour s'occuper quand on ne peut pas profiter de la mer, de la plongée... ?

j'avoue etre déçue, faire tant d'avion pour trouver la pluie 🙁....

Bonjour tout le monde.

Je m'apelle Victor j'ai 20 ans, je vien de mettre un terme a mes études d'hôtellerie (sale métier). J'aimerais passer ma vie a aider les gens qui en ont besoin... Je me fou de l'argent, du confort et tout ce qui va avec. Je ne supporte plus la sociétée francaise, j'ai un réel besoin de me sentir utile, d'essayer de faire avancer les chose la ou sa va pas. Que dois-je faire pour cela, existe t'il une personne qui puissent comprendre ma situation, mon envie et qui puissent m'aider pour pouvoir réaliser mon projet? Est -il possible de passer sa vie a aider les autres sans argent? ....

Bref n'hésitez pas a me poser des questions si vs en avez l'envie.

Bonne journée a tous ++

bonjour il me reste 4 jours en gros apres une prevision de visite des villes de fes, meknes et rabat (salé).j hesite entre une rando vers les montagnes du rif ( chefchaouen) et descendre vers le sud, vers midelt et le djebel ayachi, kasbah des noyers et cirque de jaffar. qu en penser?

si vous avez de bonnes adresses d hebergements simples.....peut etre une agence pour les rando ? merci leti

bonjour

en vous lisant, je vois qu'on parle de temps en temps de problèmes de gazoil sale ou avec de l'eau

je voudrais me faire une idée précise et objective du problème avec expériences, solutions, conséquences, taux du problème selon le pays, enfin, tout 🙂

merci René