Results for "Tapanti+|+46+>+92"

Bonjour tout le monde,

Nous partons mon épouse et moi pour 1 semaine en Crete à partir du 27 juin, nous arrivons à l'aéroport de Heraklion à 23h00. Nous voudrions réserver un Hôtel comme dit la formule bien et pas cher quoi..!!

Comment faut-il opérer pour visiter à partir de l'hôtel? Que faut-il visiter? vaut-il mieux louer une voiture ou y a t'il des bus? etc...etc... tout le tralala quoi!

Si quelqu'un pouvait nous renseigner car nous sommes novices en voyage et de ce fait un peu inquiets!

Merci d'avance

Je souhaite partir au Pérou en Octobre avec mon amie.

Ne souhaitant pas passer par des tours operators, je veux savoir par ceux qui ont déja fait ce voyage, si il est facile de visiter les grands sites incontournables par nos propres moyens (avec un bon guide touristique papier genre Le Routard ou un autre mais lequel?)

Merci de me donner vos expériences, le budget nécessaire, et les sites indispensables à visiter

bonjour a tous

comment faire pour etre informe des ventes de vehicules des domaines, internet ou revues

recherche d'un renault b 90 ou 110 en 4 roues motrices pour amenagement cc puis voyage AMERIQUE du

sud au nord

Nous sommes en voilier pour un petit périple sur l’Arc Antillais et descendons quelques mois au Vénézuela de Juillet à Octobre . Nous souhaitons faire les îles mais également laisser notre voilier à Puerto La cruz pour visiter l’intérieur des terres en sac à dos et en bus pendant un mois.

Quelle Marina sur Puerto la Cruz nous conseillez-vous pour laisser le bato seul en toute sécurité.

Nous aimerions aller jusqu’à Mérida et de la rayonner sur los llanios, et les Andes et essayer faire quelques jours à cheval. Est ce une bonne période pour découvrir ces endroits?

Nous souhaiterions avoir des adresses sympas de possadas, ranchs... et des conseils sur ce qui est à visiter un peu hors des circuits touristiques. Nous adorons la nature et les randos.

Si vous avez des bons plans mer ou terre, n'hésitez pas à me contacter.

vraiment merci d'avance à tous pour vos précieux renseignements. Myriam

bonjour à tous voila je vais partir pour mon premier voyage par last minute en all incluse le 23 mai à l hotel zahra de djerba complexe marmara

j ai lu vraiement des avis trés divergeants sur d autres forum, que pouvez vous m en dire pour ceux qui en reviennent ?

merci à tous

😉

Salut a tous, Voila je vais quitter New York d'ici quelque mois et voudrais rappatrier mon mobilier avec moi (lille, France). J'ai aucune idee de par ou commencer. Je voudrais donc savoir si quelqu'un est deja passe par cette epreuve, et si oui tout conseil est bien venu (conseil d'une entreprise, tarif, formalite, etc etc). Je n'ai pas beaucoup de meuble (table, 4 chaises, etagere, divan, 1 fauteuil, lit, PC de bureau), la plus part demontable (provenant d'une celebre marque nordique) et je me demande ce qui est preferable (financierement) entre le rappatriement ou la vente et achat de nouveau en france. Je sais que je vais payer un prix par metre3 de container mais j'arrive difficilement a me representer ce qu'on peut entasser la dedans.

Bon voila, je remercie d'avance tous ceux et celle qui pourront m'aider.

salut, on est 3 etudiants et on part au senegal pour un mois en juin. En fait on aimerait savoir ou se loger en arrivant, pas trop cher et pas trop pourri, comment rejoindre l'hotel. On arrive a 2heures du mat'. On est attendu a l'uneso de malika 25 km de dakar vers le 15 juin et kesce kon peut visiter? OU dormir? que visiter? comment faire pour pas se faire arnaquer? Voila merci bcp pour vos conseils*

dorothée

Bonjour,

j'ai un appareil photo numérique et je voudrai compressé mes photos mais je ne sais pas comment faire, j'ai win zip.

Pouvez vous m'aider?

Merci beaucoup!!!!!!!!

Aurélie

Bonjour,

Nous avons prévu de nous rendre au Xinjiang, Urumqi et Kashgar à partir de début mai.

Venons aussi de voir qu'il y faisait -20° l'année dernière à la même époque............................

Est-ce que c'est habituel ? Vaudrait-il mieux se reporter sur une autre région à cette période ?

Merci beaucoup de vos réponses...

Hello!

Voulant à mon tour partir un an pour explorer le monde, je voudrais savoir si vous connaissez vous de bons sites web de voyageurs qui réalisent ou ont réalisé un Tour du Monde, avec plein d'infos, de conseils (budget, qu'emporter avec soi...), de photos et de récits?

Merci 😉

Bonjour à tous,

nouveau sur ce forum. J'aimerais obtenir des infos sur le Barcelo Villas Bavaro. Après des heures de lecture sur le forum, on y retrouve plusieurs infos sur le Barcelo Beach et Palace mais rien sur le Villas qui se trouve pourtant sur le même complexe.

Est-ce parce que c'est un endroit à éviter, nouveau ou simplement parce que les gens qui y sont allés n'en reviennent pas ? 😉

Espérant avoir confirmation que cet hotel existe vraiment et des commentaires !!!

Merci

hello

Votre aide serait une grace

je pars en voiture sur londres pour les fetes du reveillon de nouvel sauf que londres biensur c est la galere avec la voiture existe til des parkings sur 3 jours ? ou quelqu'un a t il des tuyaux pour trouver un super emplacement ??

merci d avance

Bonjour à tous !

Vous avez tous vu la promo que fait la SNCF de ses tarifs Prems sur leur site ? Bon eh bien je vous met au défi de trouver un seul billet qui corresponde aux tarifs alléchants présentés ! Dans ce cas s'agit il de fausse publicité ?? Je ne suis pas loin de le penser ... VOilà c'était la minute coup de gueule 😛

Mon mari et moi allons fêter nos 10 ans de mariage. Nous cherchons une destination sympa et... bien évidemment on nous conseille la ville des amoureux : Venise. Personnellement, je ne suis pas très emballée car je constate que pour le même prix on passe seulement 3 jours à Venise alors qu'on peut profiter d'une semaine ailleurs... A moins que vous ayez de bons "tuyaus" pour cette destination ? Des hôtels agréables et pas trop chers, des restaus idem ? Mais bon, j'ai arrêté de croire au Père Noël depuis mes 6 ans, alors...😉

Hola !

actuellement au Pérou et dans peu de temps en Bolivie, je voudrai faire un tour en Amazonie fin juillet. Jusqu'à présent, j'étais fixée sur Rurrenabaque (Bolivie), d'après les conseils d'une amie. Mais un routard rencontré ici a passé qq jours à Pueto Maldonado, et il a adoré.... Du coup, je ne sais plus trop vers où me tourner.

Des idées, infos, commentaires ??

Merci d'avance

bonjour, j'habite en France, j'ai 45 ans et suis passionné de théâtre que je pratique en amateur depuis pas mal d'années. je suis à la recherche (je m'y prend un peu tard) d'un stage de formation (francophone)d'une ou deux semaines, de clown, de bouffon...ou toutes autres discipline autour du jeu de l'acteur organisés dans la période du 15 juillet au 20 aout 2004 environ au QUEBEC; c'est pour moi un moyen de continuer à me former mais aussi de développer des échanges avec un pays que j'aime beaucoup. Merci à tous ceux qui pourront me renseigner ou du moins me donner des pistes... mais c'est un peu pressé!!!!😏

Bonjour à tous, Je retourne pour trois semaines en Afghanistan au mois de juin avec l'intention d'aller à Herat par la route du centre. Quelqu'un a t il deja pris récemment cette route? Combien de temps faut il compter: 6-10 jours? Transports rencontrables? Kamaz ou vans? Je suis demandeur de toute info. Merci de votre aide.

Ma deuxième question porte sur le col d'Anjoman (liaison Badakhschtan-Pandschir). Combien de temps faut il compter pour passer le col à pied (4700 m)? De quelle altitude part on? Une fois de l'autre coté, combien de temps faut il pour rejoindre Faysabad?

D'avance, merci beaucoup Régis

Sinon, je peux fournir pas mal d'infos sur mon trajet de l'an dernier: Kaboul-Mazar-Kunduz-Faysabad-Warkhan et retour. Je ne mentionne pas Bamyan et Band i Amir, il y a beaucoup d'infos sur le sujet.

Je réfléchis à tout laisser tomber pour partir une bonne fois pour toute pour des raisons personnelles.

Je dispose d'un budget au mieux de 6000 euros.

Je ne sais pas combien de tps partir ( le plus lgtps possible ) et encore moins comment m'y prendre, mais je me renseigne.

A combien s'élevait vos dépenses par mois ? Sachant que je ne suis pas du tout exigent sur la nourriture et les nuités.

Merci

Bonjour,

Je pars demain en Rep dominicaine et j aurais voulu savoir qq petite chose: Peut on telephoner de la-bas avec un gsm? Y a t il des prises electriques au format europeenes ou Americaines ou les 2? Vaut il mieux partir avec de l argent ou retirer directement la-bas?

Merci pour vos reponses.

Bye

😉 experience vécue de famille ayant séjourné à pondicherry plusieurs mois

est il possible de scolariser enfants 10 et 6ans ;sinon tous les bons plans seront les bienvenus merci

Je reviens des seychelles, ou j'y ais goute du poisson a la sauce aux fruits de la passion .

J'ai trouver cela excelent, qui pourrais me donner la recette ou une equivalente.

je sais que cela fait partie de recette creole et pas specifiquement des seychelles;malheureusement je n'ais pas reussis a obtenir la recette et de retour en france, je me suis precipite a la fnac etc.... et je n'ais pas touver mon bonheur.

Donc je compte sur vous .Merci a tous.

hello, je vais partir debut septembre en malaisie et j'aimerai avoir qlq renseignements donc merci d'avance de vos reponses.

Je pars grace à une bourse universitaire pour 2 semestres et ma bourse est de 70 000 myr pour l'année (je serai a kuala lumpur) et avec ca je dois me loger et vivre donc est ce que c'est assez ou je vais vraiment devoir me mettre en mode survival etudiant. J'aimerai connaitre le prix de location d'un studio et est ce que la collocation existe en malaisie, enfin tous les conseils de qlq sorte que ce soit sont plus que bienvenu,

en vous remerciant d'avance😉

romain

Hi, We’re planning to do the 4-day trek from Mestia to Ushguli without an agency. The descriptions mention that there are accommodations at each stop, but we can’t find any details about them. Has anyone got info or feedback on this route?

Thanks

Cat, Bruno.

Hi,

I arrive in Fogo at 11 a.m. (if the ferry is on time) from the ferry departing Praia. From what I understand, the collectivos to Cha das Caldeiras leave late morning? Do you think I can leave the same day?

My question is: should I spend a night in São Filipe? I don’t want to take a taxi—it’s too expensive.

Thanks,

Patrice

“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!

Hi everyone,

So happy to discover by chance that VoyageForum is back! We’re leaving in a few days for Thailand with our two kids, aged 12 and 15. We’re considering stopping by Khao Sok but don’t want to do a typical 2D/1N or 3D/2N excursion with an overnight stay on the lake—it’s way out of our budget 🤪. Still, the place seems worth the detour. We’ve planned to spend 2 nights there (arriving in the late afternoon on the first day) and I’d love to do a full-day private boat tour on the lake and a hike (half-day or full-day). Do you think it’s doable to book on the spot if we arrive a bit late on the first day? Or is it better to book in advance? None of the websites for booking these services inspire confidence—I get the feeling it’s a real lottery afterward for getting an interesting and friendly guide. But I’m worried it’ll be the same on-site since everything seems so standardized. Do you have any firsthand experience? Maybe even a Facebook contact or something for a guide? Are the prices still really that expensive if we don’t stay overnight on the lake? I’ll admit I’m not sure if we should even stop there anymore...

Thanks in advance!

Marmite

Hi there, I’m looking for some info on these capitals I’m visiting in September and the best way to travel between them, spending 3 days in each city: restaurants, weather, and maybe a French-speaking guide if possible. Thanks.

This travel journal is the second part of the trip whose first part you can find here: 1st part...

Sunday, August 7: the day we discover a magical place... Edmaier's Secret...

We got up at 8:00 AM, had breakfast on the terrace of our tiny house, and then set off again toward yesterday’s trail. This time, we stopped after 4.5 miles on House Rock Valley Road at the Buckskin Gulch Trail parking lot. We weren’t interested in that trail today—the slot canyon is muddy anyway after the recent storms...

Instead, we explored a lesser-known area that became our playground. And what a playground it was, folks—an out-of-this-world spot, THE highlight of our trip!!! 😏

Just imagine being in the middle of these landscapes, and the cherry on top... no one else around!!!!! Well, we did meet a couple who were coming back—it was 9:30 AM 😮. Did they camp there? Did they turn back? 🙁

After paying the entry permit online, we set off with plenty of water (6L for the four of us) plus a gallon we hid along the way for the return trip. 😉 After a one-hour approach hike along a wash, we reached the sea of sand.



We had to cross it to reach our goal: a strip about 2 km long and 1 km wide that you can explore freely since there’s no marked trail... We entered a few GPS points into our Garmin Etrex, and off we went!!! 😎 It was... magical, enchanting, a true love-at-first-sight moment!



Brain Rock, waves, fine and brittle rock, colors—it goes up, it goes down.







Just thinking about it gives me chills... I remember sitting still for two minutes, taking in these wonders with such emotion that I teared up...

Good evening! 🙂,

I’m paraphrasing the title of discussions that were popping up back in 2020. Back then, the obstacles were travel restrictions and all sorts of often very arbitrary "health" rules. Today, it feels like we’re facing an epidemic of wanderlust that’s piling up in certain places—places that keep expanding. Places that end up feeling like wallpaper, just part of the scenery, more or less exotic, since the people, the dominant crowd, are always the same. And they’re especially overwhelming in limited spaces like villages, museums, and other remarkable sites.

Personally, it tends to send my cortisol levels through the roof, leading to desperate attempts to salvage what I can (the stress when I saw a travel journal about eastern Crete—then, phew, at least this little piece of old Greece hasn’t been exposed yet. Maybe it’ll survive a little longer). So, no more weekends in beautiful European cities. So, adjusted visiting hours, but that’s not always enough (I’ll still have to say goodbye to Caravaggio’s *Madeleine* since I can’t have a quiet moment with her anymore, even late in the day). So, outright giving up: I’ll never see Machu Picchu. Too late. So, shifting travel dates to minimize the damage (Uzbekistan was originally planned for Easter—with April 24th and May 1st to limit vacation days—but the anxiety of tourist crowds during that mild climate period, with few days off, led me to reschedule the trip for winter. Short days and possible rain are a thousand times better).

Avoiding crowds has become a fundamental criterion for choosing destinations and timing.

And you? Are you able to tune out this identical crowd everywhere, or has it changed your relationship with travel/tourism?

Catherine