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Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here. It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.

First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.

My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year. I told her: “Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.” “But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.” I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.” I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).

July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen. “Mamido, I did it!” My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no! “Congratulations, sweetheart!” A little shyly, she said: “Is the India trip still on?”

And me, replying: “Of course it is!”

And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.

We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint! But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out. Personally, that works just fine for me.

Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me. But I promised.

The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.

It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back. My little girl will go home to her parents.

As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.

How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special? That’s the mystery of love, I guess.

Road Trip USA 2023 - Part 2

by Pinacoladada · 2025-10-23 · 138 replies

55 days with the family in the Yucatán, including a side trip to Belize...

by Scot2021 · 2025-10-19 · 34 replies

Hi everyone!

That was about all the Spanish I could speak before we left... Luckily, Tom, 15 and in high school, gets by just fine! And Caroline did a year of Duolingo before we took off... Anyway, after 55 days in the American West three years ago, it’s Mexico’s turn for this second long adventure.

A quick intro to the crew:

- Oscar, 10, a sporty and lively little boy who loves swimming and basketball, - Tom, 15, a high schooler, sporty and tall, who loves swimming and American football, - Caroline, 47, a PE teacher, sporty , loves hiking and snorkeling, - and me, Sylvain, 50, a science teacher, sporty, loves traveling and always has a possible next trip in mind

We mostly travel by swapping our house to discover beautiful France and the world: 135 swaps over the last 13 years.....

Our itinerary is pretty classic since it’s our first time in the Yucatán, and we’ll make a little 10-day detour to Belize...

See you soon...

Preparing for a trip to Sri Lanka

by Montagnard74 · 2025-09-22 · 51 replies

Hi everyone.

The tickets for SRI LANKA are booked—arriving in COLOMBO on 12/21 and returning from the same place on 01/17. I’ve read here and there that it’ll be high season, but we don’t have a choice, so we’ll make do...

My first question is obviously about the itinerary: Most of the ones I’ve seen go clockwise, and I’m wondering if I should do it the other way: - To avoid the cultural triangle between Christmas and New Year’s - To start with a bit of rest (we’re really wiped out) Does that make sense?

My second question is about the time allocated to each stop, which you’ll find below. Is it balanced? Too much here and not enough there?

My third question will be about Jaffna: yes or no? How long is the trip from Anuradhapura? Where can I fit in the 3 days needed?

Thanks for your replies. A few details: ultra-independent travelers, using public transport, hikers, minimum 2 nights per accommodation. First time in Sri Lanka! !

Hitchhiking in the 70s-80s

by Aquiceara · 2025-09-13 · 18 replies

“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!

Off on an adventure to Java (and a bit of Bali)

by Bibouns51 · 2025-09-02 · 158 replies

Hey there, community! Back this weekend, below is my travel journal from my adventure in Indonesia. Enjoy the read!!!

Day 1 - August 10, 2025 New life downloading for three weeks! And for that, Flo and I launched a public tender... A public tender? What’s that got to do with a travel journal???... Well, when you think about it, few destinations tick all the boxes for an August adventure: Meaning, finding a place that’s exotic in the middle of August, not too expensive, not too packed with tourists, warm but not *too* warm, with postcard-perfect landscapes, dreamy beaches, tasty cuisine with a hint of exoticism, friendly and welcoming locals, where you’re free to sleep under the stars among the mosquitos, take transport surrounded by chickens, and even eat from a pig trough if you feel like it—well, turns out it’s not that easy to find! I’d even say, given how thick the list of requirements is, there’s a big risk the tender could be declared unsuccessful for failing to meet just one criterion. Let’s just say the candidates better submit a rock-solid proposal!

After reviewing all the responses and presentations from the candidates, the obvious choice for us is... Indonesia! Except that trying to explore a country as vast as Indonesia and its 17,504 islands in less than five years is a bit like reading the summary of a Proust novel without taking the time to savor each of its 950 pages! Don’t worry, I won’t name them all here. Besides, do they even all have names? No! Only 7,870 have been named—their parents clearly ran out of ideas for the rest. Anyway, our society, which worships the "work more to earn more" mantra, unfortunately limits our adventure time. So we’ll only get to see a small part of Indonesia, and we’ll have to make a tough choice to head for the best of the best in this archipelago of over seventeen thousand islands. Each one has its own selling points: Sumatra, Sulawesi, Java, the Celebes, Bali, Borneo, Papua, Timor, the Moluccas... So many names that smell of adventure... Another tender, another list of requirements, another review of proposals... Drumroll... Splash splash... And the lucky winner is... Ta-da... Java, Bali’s big sister, where I’ve already been eight years ago... Java the programming language. The Java of Broadway. We’re gonna *do* the Java. Java the coffee. And yes, Java is also an island!

This island, four times smaller than France, is home to 136 million people, making it the most populated island in the world! Fun fact: Indonesia, with its 260 million inhabitants, is just shy of the podium for the world’s most populated countries, after the winning trio of India, China, and the United States. And it’s on this island of Java that you’ll find Jakarta, the (soon-to-be-former) capital and main airport of the country, where we’ll soon land after our nineteen-hour flight! Yep, nineteen hours! I mean, Indonesia in general—and Java in particular—is a *tad* farther than going on vacation to Grandma Yoyo’s! Not sure where it is? Easy. Grab a map. Plant your finger on the big island at the bottom right—aka Australia for those who struggle with geography—move it up two centimeters, and bam, welcome to Indonesia!

Nice transition, right? Because "Welcome to Indonesia" is exactly what the friendly flight attendant just said to me as we got off the plane! That’s it, our chakras are open, we’ve arrived at our (air)port. Time for rest, pool, cocktails, and a beach with our toes spread out... Wait, if you bought that, you clearly don’t know us yet! Since we still have energy to burn and need to adjust to the flight and time difference, we tackle the long administrative formalities to enter Indonesia, just to earn the right to hop in a 45-minute Grab taxi to the train station. The train station? What train station?... What do you usually do at a train station? Take a train, of course! Off we go for a three-hour train ride to Bandung, where we’ll officially start our adventure tomorrow after our first Indonesian night...

Unfortunately, we were a bit slow off the mark, which meant we missed the 6:25 PM train by two minutes. Oh well, we’ll have to wait until 11 PM. We take the opportunity to stretch our legs in Jakarta, soak up the atmosphere, and enjoy the delicious smells wafting from the *warungs*—those little typical street restaurants. A quick stop at the National Monument, a detour to a night market to devour our first *kwetiaw goreng* and *teh manis* for 60,000 rupiahs (that’s 3 € for two), and just like that, our penalty is lifted, and we’re allowed to hit the road again. Off to Bandung, where we arrive at 2 AM for... a *very* short night...

Vaccines and treatments for Thailand

by 4ecofuel · 2025-06-27 · 33 replies

Hi there,

I’ve already visited quite a few countries across several continents, but I’m pretty new to Asia.

I’m planning a trip to Thailand in October or November, and I wanted to check about health precautions: malaria treatment, vaccinations (hepatitis A or others...). I’ll mostly be in the northern region, around Chiang Mai, where I’ll spend a lot of time in nature and the mountains. Then I’ll head south to Phuket or Krabi and visit Khao Sok National Park. I’ll finish up in Bangkok, with a likely detour to Kanchanaburi.

From what I understand, for a stay of less than 60 days, I don’t need a visa (I’m a French national)? I just need to fill out the TDAC form 3 to 5 days before arrival?

Thanks for your advice! Fred

Discussion Embracing Dawn: December 2024 Photo Contest

by UnaMilanese · 2024-12-04 · 99 replies

Hey there,

This is where we chat and share photos outside the contest.

Good night! 😛

Embracing Dawn: December 2024 Photo Contest

by UnaMilanese · 2024-12-04 · 69 replies

Hi everyone,

After my narrow victory over Herodotos (just one point ahead—I had a close call, even in December in the northern hemisphere!), I’m now honored to organize the next contest, the one for the closing year, whose results will be announced on the first day of the coming year. Out of affection for the poet with wind in his soles, who dreamed of ivory and setting sail, again and again, even in his final hours, I borrow the theme from the first line of a poem dear to me: I embraced the summer dawn.

So, as the year draws to a close, the theme will be: embracing dawn.

The verb here is just as important as the noun. More than just a subject about sunrises or that magical half-hour of pink light before the sun appears (a photographer’s nightmare: either I crank up the ISO and deal with noise, or I lug around a tripod, and say goodbye to spontaneity like a beggar on marble quays), this is about those happy little mornings—the thrill of joy in the soft light of the first hours, whether it’s a landscape, a person, an animal, a plant, architecture, or whatever else. What’s certain is that it makes you want to smile at the day breaking. Even if you go back to bed afterward.

Technical details (shamelessly borrowed from Ragamuffin, thanks!):

Participation Each VF member can submit up to 3 photos, until Wednesday, 12/25 at 11:59 PM, Milan time. Each photo must be posted in a separate message, with its number (1, 2, or 3). Don’t forget to add a little explanation (comment, location, etc.).

Voting: Each VF member can vote for the 3 photos they consider the best, based on their own criteria and the theme.

Voting will take place from Thursday, 12/26 to Tuesday, 12/31 at 11:59 PM, Milan time.

Selected photos will be ranked in order of preference: - 1st photo: 3 points - 2nd photo: 2 points - 3rd photo: 1 point

The winner is the author of the photo with the most points.

Results will be published on 01/01 (if I’m in any state to do so). In case of a tie, the number of first-place votes will decide. The winner will have the honor of organizing December’s contest.

For discussion, it’s here.

That’s all! Let’s welcome Dawn with rosy fingers, dressed in saffron...

Catherine

Da Nang and Hoi An (Vietnam)

by Larsay · 2024-11-24 · 2 replies

DANANG A big city in the midst of an economic boom. The setting is stunning, with its large bay, the Son Tra Peninsula, and the Annamite Mountains on the horizon.

Where to stay and eat? Da Nang is a bustling business hub, so hotels are pricier and often fully booked. I was lucky to find a motorbike taxi driver who, after six full hotels, took me to Mai Son Hotel, 113 Nguyen Van Linh, a spotless 2-star place. Plus, right next door, there’s a great restaurant that seems popular with locals, and a good Chinese restaurant just a 5-minute walk away, Phi Lu (178 Nguyen Van Linh), recommended by the *Guide du Routard*. So, I’d definitely recommend this hotel. For a pricier option, the very Christian Dai A Hotel, near the tiny pink cathedral, is nice, but why pay more?

Actually, why stay in Da Nang when the gorgeous Hoi An is just 34 km to the south?

What to see? - The lovely Cham Museum (small, takes at most an hour) - The climb up Son Tra Peninsula (great views of the whole area) - The “tour” of the peninsula—quotation marks because the road stops two-thirds of the way. There’s an interesting little museum on the left before reaching the base of the huge statue, the Đong Đinh (large entrance on the left side of the hill), with traditional houses in the jungle holding artifacts over 2,000 years old (Sa Huynh culture; if you’re interested, check out the small Sa Huynh Museum in Hoi An, just before the Japanese Bridge). However, the big Linh Ung Pagoda is just colorful concrete! A beautiful resort, the Son Tra Beach Resort and Spa, sits on a pristine beach and isn’t too expensive: $120 for a garden room and $200–$270 for duplexes with a pool, where you can sleep six. Before reaching the resort, you’ll find two excellent seafood restaurants with large beachfront terraces on your right. - On the way to Hoi An, Marble Mountain, where I loved the village of marble sculpture workshops, the pretty pagodas and caves, and the stunning view from the top of the last promontory (the stairs are steep!). However, you can skip the famous China Beach and its resorts—all pretentious and expensive, not to mention the ones under construction on both sides of the road (they’re multiplying like crazy!). So, when traveling from Da Nang to Hoi An, I recommend two stops: the Cham Museum and Marble Mountain. - The beautiful drive to the Hai Van Pass (there weren’t any clouds!), offering spectacular views of the Da Nang region to the south and the coast to the north. The descent leads to the fishing village and beach of Lang Co, which is lovely but destined for rampant resort development, judging by the huge projects advertised on billboards along the road after the village. - Some affordable guesthouses ($15) and big resorts, including the lovely Lang Co Beach Resort, with a large pool and great value given the beautiful gardens and elegant bungalows. Recommended in Lang Co: lunch at one of the two stilt restaurants over the lagoon—great views and fresh seafood.

The public bus to Hoi An, 34 km south of Da Nang, takes 45 minutes for 50,000 dong. There’s one every half hour.

HOI AN This is a “must-see” for so many reasons: stunning old houses, temples, and pagodas; a colorful daily open-air and covered market near the bridge; charming little streets in the old quarter—especially at night, with all the multicolored lanterns and riverside restaurant terraces, it’s very romantic. The local food is delicious, the people are friendly and kind, there are two beautiful beaches, and attractions like the Cham ruins of My Son. Some say Hoi An is overrun with tourists and should be avoided. That’s true for the historic center and An Bang Beach, but not at all once you step outside.

WHERE TO STAY For a 2-star option, I recommend Ngo House Villa (99 Nguyen Phuc Tan St), very quiet on the island just across from the Old Quarter: 3-star rooms + suites, a large “Family” room, and a nice pool, all for $20 ($40 for the “Family” room). The same charming owner has a second hotel 20 meters away (No. 74), Phan Ngô, which is older but has a large terrace and a small pool—I prefer this one. For 3 stars, Thuy Duong 3 (92 Ba Trieu) is perfect, with a pool and garden ($40–$60). A bit pricier but great is A Han on Phan Bai Chau, with a large garden and terrace restaurant.

For those with a bigger budget, I recommend two riverside spots with rooms, suites, and pools, priced at $200–$350: the secluded Coco River Resort (formerly Ancient House River, with a large wooden terrace for romantic dinners by the river) and Anantara, (formerly Heritage), with bungalows close to the old town—but pricey.

Outside the city, my favorite hotel is Villa Loan, the new place from the famous Loan of Tam Coc, very quiet in the countryside, 15 minutes by bike from Old Hoi An and An Bang Beach. Beautiful rooms ($35), a Family room with two double beds ($55), two 65 m² twins that can sleep six (two large beds + two single beds—$80), a terrace restaurant, and a lovely pool. Prices include a buffet breakfast and a bike.

Also great is Daisy Anbang on An Bang Beach, elegant with a pool and beach just 50 meters away (skip the Aira next door—too expensive).

WHERE TO EAT Hoi An is Vietnam’s culinary capital. For Vietnamese food, I recommend Dao Tien, 21 Phan Bai Chau. No surprise—the chef is a former chef at the luxury 4-star Victoria Hoi An, a solid reference. The restaurant now has a beautiful terrace by the river (take the alley on the right side of the main street Dao Tien). Plus, you’re doing a good deed: a large part of the profits goes toward educating underprivileged children—one year of free hospitality, cooking, and English training, followed by job placement in local establishments. Madame Hien Hoi An (formerly Co Mai), 2 Nguyen Thai Hoc (left of the market), is another great spot—the chef is Didier Corlou, formerly of the famous *Porte d’Annam* and *Madame Hien* in Hanoi (closed in March 2022 due to COVID, so foreign tourists are still scarce). Also worth checking out is Secret Garden, in the Phuong Minh An alley (entrance at 60 Le Loi), set in a beautiful space. One of my favorites is Madam Kieu, 43 Nguyen Phuc Chu, right on the river across from the little bridge—very elegant with excellent Vietnamese cuisine. Unfortunately, all the restaurants on this esplanade blast “music” (boom boom boom yeah yeah yeah) in the evenings, so it’s impossible to talk—go for lunch instead.

For a break from Vietnamese food, try Good Morning Vietnam, a ridiculous name for an excellent Italian restaurant (11 Le Loi). The cheerful chef is from Bologna, the “Lyon of Italy”: lasagna like an Italian *mama*’s, delicious tagliatelle ai porcini (porcini mushrooms imported from Italy), and a divine homemade tiramisu (pro tip: order a grappa and drizzle a few drops on the tiramisu). It’s also one of the few places where you can get an excellent bottle of red wine for 350,000 dong instead of the usual 600,000–800,000 dong (South African Robertson Chapel). Another gem: the Japanese restaurant Samurai Kitchen (no sushi, but divine gyoza), 21 Phan Chau Trinh—the street on the right side of the market when you turn your back to the river. Finally, Ganesh, which I consider the best Indian restaurant in Vietnam (99 Tran Hung Dao St).

At An Bang, there are plenty of beachfront restaurants. The two best are the large one at the far right of the parking lot (huge seafood selection) and the fantastic La Luna d’Autumno, owned by the same person as the Italian restaurant of the same name, once considered the best in Vietnam but closed in 2020 due to COVID. Divine pizzas, including the vegetariana.

WHAT TO VISIT The Japanese Bridge and all the old Chinese houses, temples, and pagodas in the three historic streets. Don’t miss the extraordinary gallery-museum of the great French photographer Réhahn, the Precious Heritage Museum at 26 Phan Boi Chau. His remarkable photo collection—including the famous shot of the little Cham girl with clear blue eyes—has graced the covers of many magazines. His Montagnard Museum is a wonder, with a larger collection of tribal women’s costumes than the Museum of Ethnology in Hanoi. Free entry.

THE BEACHES Cua Dai Beach has mostly disappeared, a victim of the waves, except in a few spots. The beautiful An Bang Beach remains, with great beachfront restaurants, or you can head to Cham Island.

MY SON A beautiful complex of Cham ruins surrounded by mountains, 50 km southwest of Hoi An via a scenic road. You can rent a motorbike, take a motorbike taxi, or join a half-day organized tour. It’s best to go in the afternoon—less crowded than in the morning.

CHAM ISLANDS (Cu Lao Cham) Wow, I loved it! It reminded me of St. Barts 35 years ago. The archipelago, 19 km from Hoi An, consists of eight small islands within the Cu Lao Cham Marine Reserve, declared a “Biosphere Reserve” by UNESCO. The largest and only inhabited island, Hon Lao (Pearl Island), covers 1,317 hectares, and its highest peak reaches 517 meters. Hon Lao has two villages: Bai Lang, where the boats from Hoi An dock, and the charming little fishing port of Bai Huong. Part of the island is a military zone, so only the east coast is accessible to tourists.

To get there, you have three options: - The public boat (100,000 dong) that leaves from in front of Café des Amis at 7:30 AM. The catch is it returns to Hoi An at noon, so to enjoy the charm of the place, you’ll need to spend a night on the island (which I highly recommend). - Organized tours by Cham Diving Club, with two options: diving or snorkeling only. - A private speedboat, but it’s not cheap: $200 for the day!

Note: Even if the weather seems fine, the large public boat won’t leave if the sea is too rough. The only solution is to go to the port around 7:30 AM and check (easy, since it brings all the supplies for the island’s locals—if it’s leaving, it’ll be loading up). Avoid weekends—it gets swarmed with locals.

Small coves with dreamy beaches, as they say. Two are very close to Bai Lang: one to the left (facing the village), Bai Ong, lined with restaurants, and a tiny one to the right of the village. The other two beaches, including Bai Chong and the little fishing port of Bai Huong, are accessible by motorbike or boat. I recommend renting a motorbike (biking is tough due to steep hills) and taking the road that overlooks the coast—it’s stunning.

Great diving. The Cham Diving Club is superbly organized by a very friendly Italian, Lodovico, and two French guys (www.chamislanddiving.com).

When you arrive at Bai Lang’s pier, they’ll offer you TWO family-run guesthouses in the village. There are also homestays, but they’re really basic (usually bamboo mats on wooden planks as beds), no English or French is spoken, and locals speak a dialect that’s hard to understand even if you’re decent at Vietnamese. Anyway, I don’t recommend staying in Bai Lang because of the public loudspeakers. Two options if you want a quiet night: - A small guesthouse facing the tiny rice field on the way to Bai Ong Beach. Very clean rooms and a large terrace overlooking the “rice field.” 300,000 dong, with meals available on the terrace. Nha Nghi Vu Truong Tel: 235 386 4783 Mobile: 01 67 76 63 110. - Homestays in the little fishing port of Bai Huong.

Annuler ou pas une croisière pour Dubaï en janvier 2021 English translation pending

by Coco0910 · 2020-08-23 · 29 replies

Bonjour Nous avons réservé une croisière avec Costa en janvier 2021, pour Dubaï. Nous ne savons pas si nous devons annuler ou pas Je recherche des infos. Y a t il des personnes qui se sont inscrits. Bonne journée

S'il y a un prochain voyage, comment utiliser ses finances? English translation pending

by Sawadeebaht · 2020-07-18 · 89 replies

bonjour les gens qui voyagent

supposons qu on repart à l etranger en 2021 ou 2022. Comment utiliser vos finances ? Vous mettez tout l argent économisé dans un gros voyage genre luxe ou vous ne changez rien ou vous avez trop crainte et ne partirez plus ? je suis curieux de savoir

Villages où loger dans les Cyclades en août English translation pending

by Max68 · 2020-06-02 · 60 replies

Bonjour à tous,

Mon voyage initial (Madagascar) étant tombé à l'eau j'étudie un plan B.

Je me suis dis "où est-ce que je rêve d'aller mais en y renonçant parce que trop touristique et qui ne soit pas trop loin ???" et là tout de suite Santorin m'est venu à l'esprit, ainsi que les Cyclades.😎 En effet, pas de croisière et une Europe qui se rouvre doucement devrait être une opportunité d'aller dans ces îles magiques sans croiser trop de monde.

Du coup j'ai élaboré rapidement un programme qui va du 23 juillet au 3 août. Arrivée et départ depuis Santorin (puisqu'il y a un vol direct Zurich - Santorin).

Cela pourrait ressembler à ça: J1 arrivée à Santorin J2 Santorin -> Sifnos J3 à 6 (soit 4 jours pleins) Sifnos J7 Sifnos - Amorgos. J8 et 9 Amorgos J10 Amorgos -> Santorin J11 à 13 Santorin (soit 3 jours, le départ du vol retour étant J13 à 20h45).

Je trouve qu'il manque 1 jour à Amorgos, mais je ne peux plus en rajouter, donc soit j'en enlève 1 à Sifnos, soit 1 à Santorin ??? Qu'en pensez-vous ?

Dans quel village me conseillez-vous de loger sur chacune d'elles ? Pour Amorgos je pensais Aegiali parce que c'est là qu'il y a le club de plongée sous-marine. Pour le reste je n'ai pas encore étudier.

Par avance merci 🙂

Des paquebots en attente au large des États-Unis English translation pending

by Evajules · 2020-05-12 · 69 replies

Bonjour à tous,

On en parle peu, mais, d'après LCI, il y aurait actuellement 104 bateaux au large des Etats Unis, en attente de pouvoir bouger, ce qui représente 72 000 membres d'équipage qui non seulement s'angoissent, font des dépressions, mais ont aussi pour certains entamé une gréve de la faim. De plus quelques morts pouvant être secondaires à des suicides se seraient produites.

Merci de confirmer ces infos....c'est le côté sombre des croisières et la pression doit être forte pour que le silence règne !

Cordialement et restez vigilants

On part en vadrouille dans les Balkans! English translation pending

by Bibouns51 · 2020-04-19 · 344 replies

Et bien le confinement a de beaux jours devant lui ! Chose promise, chose due (publier une journée de vadrouille par jour de confinement) ! Après le carnet sur un voyage aux Etats-Unis (voyageforum.com/...-americain-d9943984/), après le carnet sur une vadrouille en Jordanie (https://voyageforum.com/discussion/on-part-en-vadrouille-en-jordanie-d9991360/), voici maintenant un carnet dans les balkans, voyage réalisé il y a maintenant quelques années :

Et on garde les bonnes habitudes, publication d'une journée par jour, à chaque fois à 17h30 ! Bonne lecture et n'hésite pas à laisser un commentaire, une question, une remarque, ...

Franck

Tergiversations diverses à propos d'un périple en Polynésie English translation pending

by Nimou74 · 2020-04-14 · 71 replies

Bonjour 🙂

J'avais ouvert une discussion sur cette destination il y a un an, mais comme mes préoccupations ne sont plus tout à fait les mêmes, je préfère créer un nouveau post... Nous envisageons un voyage en PF pour l'été 2021 (en espérant que la situation s'améliorera d'ici là 😇). A vrai dire j'ai déjà réservé les 4 seules nuits disponibles au Maupiti Lodge début juillet. Maupiti est une priorité pour nous. Nous disposerons d'environ 3 semaines. Les billets ne sont bien sûr pas encore réservés. Donc s'il faut ajouter ou supprimer un jour par ci ou part la, cela ne pose pas vraiment de problème.

L'itinéraire serait le suivant: Arrivée Tahiti / Maupiti / Raiatea & Tahaa / Bora/ Fakarava (ou Fakarava + Tikehau)/ Moorea / Tahiti

En tenant compte de la rotation des vols d'îles en îles, je me heurte à plusieurs ( tout petits) problèmes et j'ai besoin de vos avis...

Rester 5 nuits à Raiatea n'est ce pas un peu trop long ? Ne serait il pas préférable de couper la poire en deux et de passer 2 nuits sur Tahaa, puis 3 (ou 2) nuits à Raiatea ? ou encore 4 nuits uniquement à Raiatea ? Nous aimerions bien avoir de la place au Sunset beach.

Nous envisageons 3 nuits à Bora. Peut être le Mataï ou encore le Blue Heaven... ?

Maintenant concernant Fakarava...Nous ne sommes pas plongeurs et J'ai lu des avis contraires sur cette destination. Certains disent qu'il vaut mieux être plongeurs et d'autres disent que la destination se prête bien aussi au snorkeling. C'est la beauté de cet atoll qui nous attire. Concernant le logement, nous avons pensé au Haivaki Lodge si nous restons 4 nuits . Une autre idée serait de rester 2 nuits à Tetamanu pension et Haïvaki 3 nuits. Qu'en pensez-vous ? ou encore Fakarava 3 nuits et Tikehau 3 nuits.

Nous comptons passer quelques jours à Moorea, probablement aux Tipaniers. 4 nuits sont-elles suffisantes ? Nous prévoyons 2 jours pleins à Tahiti avant le départ.

C'est un peu long et j'en suis désolée... Un grand merci d'avance !

Les mythes touristiques English translation pending

by GeorgesOZ · 2020-04-04 · 213 replies

Les Mythes Touristiques

Dans un carnet que je suis en train d'écrire sur un voyage récent au Mexique, nous sommes arrivés à une petite discussion sur les fameux groupes de musiciens Mexicains, les mariachis. Il existe un mythe selon lequel « mariachi » serait une déformation du mot Français « mariage », et que cela viendrait des fêtes tenues par les Français lors de leurs quelques années d’occupation du Mexique, dans les années 1860 et quelques. Je cite l’un des intervenants sur mon poste Mexicain :

« Les français organisaient de grandes fêtes aux mariages et avaient l'habitude d'inviter des musiciens…. Mariachi serait une déformation du mot mariage ..? »

Ce mythe a été réfuté car il a été prouvé que le terme « mariachi » était d’usage longtemps avant la peu glorieuse « Intervention » de la France au Mexique (c’était sous Napoléon III).

Plusieurs mythes semblables circulent. Certains semblent être propagés à l’intention des touristes, pour leur donner l’illusion de « mieux comprendre le pays », pour donner une profondeur supplémentaire à leurs voyages, pour alimenter leurs conversations avec les amis quand ils sont de retour. Car tout cela gonfle l’égo et donne envie de faire d’autres voyages, ça alimente le tourisme. D’où revenus, tiens donc, pour qui ?

Mais d’autres mythes existent qui ne sont peut-être pas créés à but lucratif.

Vous connaissez sans aucun doute de tels mythes et je vous propose de les partager. Et de donner les raisons pour lesquelles ces mythes existent.

Canada et USA: le north-east à vélo et transports collectifs English translation pending

by Sarana · 2020-03-21 · 28 replies

Carnets de route d'un sexagénaire à vélo Niagara, Boston, Cape Cod, Nantucket, Nouvelle Angleterre, Nouveau Brunswick, Québec, Saint Laurent, Montréal... Surprises, galères et émotions. Un voyage contrasté sur le continent des contrastes. Partir en solo à vélo sans date de retour. Un rêve que je caressais depuis longtemps et que la retraite me permet de réaliser tant que la forme physique est là.

Les étapes, les portions à vélo (en bleu), les portions en bus et train (en orange) Pour le parcours, j'utilise les tracés de la carte Open Cycle Map

Le long de la frontière ouest américano-canadienne et un détour par Hawaï English translation pending

by Jane15 · 2020-02-19 · 40 replies

Après un voyage en solo l'année dernière dans l'ouest américain, en cet été 2019, c'est le nord ouest américain et le sud ouest canadien qui ont retenu mon attention. Et j'ai cette année embarqué mon neveu de 10 ans. J'adore les animaux sauvages, la mer et les volcans et le moins que l'on puisse dire, c'est que ce voyage est tourné sur tout cela. Les nuits et repas sont du low cost: camping et hostels pour la majorité. Après ces courtes présentations, place au carnet. Vendredi 5 juillet: départ de Londres pour Seattle Le vol se fait sans encombre avec British airway, nous arrivons à Seattle vers 13h mais ne sortirons de l'aéroport que 4 heures plus tard. Le passage à la douane était hyper encombré et un veritable enfer. Nous récupérons la voiture, pas du tout le SUV prévu, elle ressemblait plutôt à une sorte des break, pour ce que j'y connais mais je crois que le cauchemar de la douane ne m'a pas donné envie de protesté , juste de quitter le plus vite possible l'aéroport. Nous avons perdu toute l'après-midi et il ne me reste que peut de temps pour amener la surprise que je réservais à mon neveu c'est à dire la visite du magasin Funko pop à Davenport car c'est un collectionneur. Mais je suis optimiste , ça va le faire. On a que une demi-heure avant la fermeture mais voir sa surprise et son sourire valait le détour.

Le paradis des amateurs de pop vinyl. Puis retour vers Seattle avec arrêt au wallmart pour les courses essentielles et on découvre notre hostel dans Seattle. Samedi 6 juillet: Parc Olympique Forcément, le réveil est matinal, donc après un rapide petit-déjeuner, nous prenons la route vers la presqu'île qui abrite le Parc National Olympique. C'est une chaîne de montagnes qui fait face à Seattle. pour s'y rendre, nous embarquons dans un ferry qui nous fait faire la traversée mais le temps est très couvert. En passant par le Visiter center, j'apprends que le camping où nous devons passé la nuit est fermé car la route qui y mène est inondée, tant pis, on verra plus tard. ce qui me préoccupe, c'est la météo qui risque de nous empêcher d'apercevoir la chaîne olympique. Il faut pour cela monter prendre une route très montante qui nous amène à un point de vue face à la chaîne. mon seule espoir c'est de passer au-dessus des ses nuages de pluie. Nous commençons la montée, il pleut à torrent et effectivement nous arrivons dans les nuages. et passons au-dessus, sauf qu'il y a une 2ème couche au-dessus et nous ne verrons donc pas grand chose. On aura essayer/ Ma philosophie est simple, je n'ai pas fait tous ces km pour renoncer si près donc quoi qu'il arrive, je tente toujours ma chance.

On aura au moins trouver la neige. En plein juillet, cela fait toujours bizarre. Nous reprenons la route direction l'ouest de la presqu"île pour aller voir la côte sauvage et les forêts humides. On s'arrête à un Subway pour le déjeuner, c'est pas trop mon truc mais bon. Et allons visiter la fore êt humide de Hoh, gros bouchon pour y arriver, pourquoi ??? mais c'est très beau mais forcément trop peuplé , c'est un peu à la queue leleu mais j'ai beaucoup apprécié l'ambiance dans cette forêt d'arbres verdoyants et toutes ces lianes.

Nous allons ensuite à Ruby Beach découvrir la côte Pacifique et c'est juste splendide: les vaques qui viennent s'écraser sur les rochers, ces rochers qui sortent de la mer et cette dernière qui ramène les bois flottés qui viennent à leur tour jonchés la plage. Quel spectacle ! On reste un moment à contempler cela.

Mais le soleil disparait petit à petit et nous n'avons rien de prévu pour la nuit, il faut repartir pour Port Angeles , il y a 2h de route où nous trouvons un motel. Port Angeles, c'est plutôt moche et terne comme ville. Heureusement nous n'y resterons pas.

Refoulé aux douanes marocaines English translation pending

by Samiratoune · 2020-01-28 · 47 replies

Bonjour , Mon copain est albanais , et nous avons décidé de faire un séjour au maroc , nous avons booker nos billets de Dubai, on s'est fait enregistrer à l'aéroport, reçu nos cartes d'embarquement et hop tout est normal. Arrivés au Maroc le choc , on bloque à la douane à défaut de visa on ne savait pas qu'il en avait besoin surtt que Emirates la laissé voyager ce qui a aussi surpris la police marocaine !! Ma question la compagnie est responsable de vérifier le visa avant d'embarquer ? Si oui , peut on les poursuivre en justice après cet erreur surtt qu'on perdu notre argent + 9h de vol pour a la fin le voir se faire refouler !! Merci

Compte rendu croisière Costa au départ de Miami English translation pending

by Lbra · 2020-01-27 · 31 replies

Nous voici de retour de notre croisière sur le Costa Luminosa au départ de Miami (Freeport, Ocho Rios, Roatan, Cozumel, Progreso, Nassau). Croisière du mercredi 15 janvier au dimanche 26 janvier 2020. C'est notre 2ème croisière. La précédente datant d'un an dans les Caraïbes au départ de Guadeloupe (https://voyageforum.com/discussion/compte-rendu-croisiere-costa-dans-antilles-en-janvier-2019-d9294327/). On avait beaucoup aimé d'où notre 2ème essai. On a préféré la précédente par rapport aux escales visitées et à l'accueil de la population. Sur celle-ci, c'est très américanisé et on vous fait tout payer, même l'accès aux plages. Sans compter les innombrables pourboires. En soi, je ne suis pas contre, mais vous faire des grands sourires à la fin, juste pour recevoir de l'argent, je n'aime pas trop! 😠Sinon, le bateau offrait de bonnes prestations. Même confort que le Pacifica. On a très (trop) bien mangé et très (trop, trop) bien bu. Nous avions pris le forfait Piu Gusto. Notre cabine 7240 se trouvait à l'avant près des ascenseurs. Pas bruyant et peu de passage. La mer a été assez agitée d'où un tangage assez fréquent. On n'a pas le mal de mer, mais bizarrement on a gardé cette sensation de roulis à terre, lors des escales et encore aujourd'hui (même assise en vous écrivant ce compte rendu! 🤪 ).C'est assez désagréable, et j'espère que cela disparaitra bientôt! Une croisière de 12 jours nous semble être la bonne durée. 8 j c'est trop court pour un voyage en avion aussi long, et au delà de 12 jours, je ne suis pas sûre que mon foie aurait supporté!

En préparant ce voyage, je n'avais pas trouvé beaucoup d'informations, il me semblait que l'essentiel était la plage. Mais au final, je ne me suis baignée qu'une fois et j'ai pas mal visité. Jean-Bernard m'a beaucoup aidé grâce à son compte rendu très détaillé : https://voyageforum.com/discussion/retour-croisiere-costa-caraibes-2-12-decembre-2019-d9855585-1/

Je vais essayer d'en faire un différent pour que ce ne soit pas redondant.

Pour nous, départ de Lyon en Tgv, la veille, et nuit à l'hôtel Ibis Style de l'aéroport. Très pratique d'autant que notre vol est à 7h35. Enfin, devait être, car à cause des grèves, on a été autorisé à décoller vers 8h15. Notre vol suivant (toujours avec British Airways) était à 9h35. Arrivés à Heathrow à 8h35 (-1h), là où 1h40 permettait de faire le changement de terminal tranquillement et de passer de nouveau les contrôles de douanes et de bagages à main, il ne restait qu'environ 50 min. Autant vous dire qu'on a couru! L'embarquement était commencé, mais même sans courir, je pense qu'on aurait eu l'avion. Bref, un peu de stress! Très bon vol et personnel agréable. J'avais réservé gratuitement 24h à l'avance nos places. Nous avions donc 2 places (en début de rangée) avec de l'espace pour nos jambes. Pour moi, peu importe la place, mais pour les grande jambes de mon mari et ses 1m97, c'est toujours un peu compliqué! 🤪 Je croyais qu'il n'y avait qu'un aéroport à Miami et à côté de port Everglades. Mais il y a 2 aéroports et 2 ports à Miami. Nous avons atterri sur celui qui se trouvait à 1h de notre port. Cela nous a permis d'admirer du ciel le port de Miami et les Everglades.

Mercredi 15 janvier : Miami Passage de la douane assez rapide finalement. Environ 8 agents pour scanner votre passeport, vous faire regarder dans une caméra (reconnaissance faciale), vous demander où vous aller et combien d'argent vous emporter. Il ne nous a même pas demandé notre Esta (je suppose qu'il l'a regardé sur son ordinateur). Concernant l'Esta, et le fait de noter nom de jeune fille ou marital, j'avais mis mon nom de jeune fille, un espace, et mon nom d'épouse (après beaucoup d'hésitation étant donné qu'on lit tout et son contraire). Et donc, ça passe. Les 2 noms sont sur mon passeport. Sur mon billet d'avion, j'avais aussi les 2 noms mais inversés. Nom d'épouse puis de jeune fille (initiative de l'agence). Il n'y a qu'à l'aéroport d'Heathrow, au retour seulement, où j'ai du passer devant un agent, car la machine ne me reconnaissait pas. Mais rien de gênant. Mon mari part chercher les valises pendant que je garde les bagages à main. A ce moment, j'entends une annonce avec une liste de noms, dont le mien. Je parle anglais, mais avec le brouhaha je ne comprends pas de quoi il est question. Je demande à un agent pourquoi j'entends mon nom dans cette annonce. En fait, les personnes nommées n'ont pas leurs valises. Du fait du retard à l'arrivée d'Heathrow, les valises n'ont pas pu être mises dans le 2nd avion. Elles arriveront par le vol suivant. Quelques papiers à remplir et on nous assure que nos valises seront livrées à 21h sur le bateau (le départ est prévu pour 23h). Je remercie les personnes qui conseillent de panacher vêtements de monsieur et madame dans les valises et de mettre des vêtements dans les bagages à main. Pour nous, avoir des vêtements avec nous à été utile. Sans oublier de mettre des chaussures légères aussi. L'hôtesse française sur le bateau nous a raconté que lors d'une précédente croisière, des bagages n'ont pu être livré qu'à une escale suivante, et encore, l'escale étant annulée pour cause de mauvais temps, c'est le commandant du bateau pilote qui les a amenées et littéralement jetées de son bateau, lui même ne pouvant même pas monter à bord tant la mer était déchainée. A la sortie, nous nous mettons à la recherche de notre chauffeur. L'agence nous avait réservé un chauffeur privé. Il était censé avoir une pancarte avec notre nom. On demande un peu autour de nous, mais personne de la compagnie Ride America. Comme nous n'avons pas de portage téléphonique, on se sent un peu isolé. Je demande à une responsable Costa se trouvant sur place de m'aider. Les 2 personnes “Costa” ont été d'une très grande gentillesse. Elles ont cherchées sur internet la compagnie mais n'ont pas réussi à trouver de numéro de téléphone (il n'y en avait aucun sur ma réservation, et je n'avais pas vérifié avant de partir, on croit que tout va toujours bien se passer!). Elles nous ont proposé de nous prendre avec les personnes qui avaient pris un transfert, mais on devait payer 26 euros par personne. Je demande à mon mari d'aller faire encore un petit tour pour voir si notre chauffeur était de retour. Et oui, le grand monsieur tout en noir qui téléphonait était bien notre chauffeur. Il cherchait désespérément à nous joindre. Le problème, c'est que nous avons perdu beaucoup de temps avec les formalités pour nos bagages, et lui, voyant tout le monde sorti, se demandait où nous étions. Il a d'abord était surpris de nous voir avec 2 petits bagages à main, du jamais vu chez des touristes (vous voyagez très léger!). Bref, il va chercher sa voiture et nous partons pour un peu moins d'une 1h de route vers Port Everglades. C'est en fait mieux qu'un transfert car nous arrivons bien avant le bus. Embarquement très rapide car il n'y a presque personne à monter sur le bateau à 17h. Notre chambre est prête, on se met à l'aise et on part prendre notre 1er cocktail sur le pont arrière. Cela restera notre endroit préféré pour déjeuner. On est dehors, à l'abris du soleil. Ensuite, petite visite du bateau pour commencer à se familiariser avec les lieux. On se repère très facilement et rapidement. Nous avions emporté nos affaires de sport pensant qu'il serait nécessaire de faire une activité sportive (tant pour éliminer les calories que pour se "dérouiller" un peu). Mais en fait, on marche tellement (escaliers et longues coursives) que nous ne sommes allés qu'une seule fois dans la salle de gym. L'exercice de sécurité était à 20h30 et nous sommes ensuite allés dîner. Nous étions au 2ème service qui commence à 20h45. Nous avions demandé une table de 2 au pont 3. On a eu une table de 6 au pont 2. Mais nous ne regrettons pas car nous étions avec des convives très sympathiques et nous avons franchement bien ri lors de nos repas. Très surprenant, un des convives était Jean-Louis avec qui j'échangeais très souvent sur le forum. Ensuite, au dodo car on était vraiment fatigué. Et surprise en arrivant dans notre chambre :