Results for "Mahon+|+9+>+206"

Nous sommes étudiantes et recherchons, en vue de créer une asso, un orphelinat d'un pays en voie de développement qui aurait besoin d'une aide financière, de jouets, et d'animatrices pour égayer la vie des enfants. Malgré l'outil Internet, il est difficile de se mettre en contact avec ceux-ci puisqu'ils n'ont bien souvent aucun accès à Internet, et donc, aucune trace de leur existence. Si vous avez des infos, merci beaucoup de nous les faire parvenir! A bientot! Anne et Manon

A ceux qui sont allés au Playa Pesquero. Pouvez-vous me donner des nos de chambres près de la plage, qui sont tranquilles, au 2ème étage.

J'ai le no de chambre 5812, je me demandais si cette chambre est près du théâtre, sur le plan c'est petit, on ne voit pas bien. Près de la piscine on voit une scène, est-ce la scène pour les spectacles?

Merci à tous!

Manon.

Bonjour!! Comme je vais a Santa Lucia un peu plus tard en saison, j'aimerait avoir l'opinion de ceux qui y ont séjournés au sujet des algues dans la mer . Es ce un problème assez grave pour rendre désagréable notre voyage. es ce moins pire devant un hôtel que d'autres. Merci de votre réponse

Bonjour,

Qui peut nous aider à faire un choix entre les deux. Pouvez vous nous donnez vos commentaires sur la nourriture, la plage, l'hébergement. Départ prévu fin mars ou début avril.

Qui a déjà réservé avec Go Travel Direct, vos commentaires svp.

Merci de votre aide.

Flatron

Bonjour,

Nous partons le 2 janvier pour Iberostar Toucan à Riviera Maya.

Plusieurs personnes m'ont dit d'apporter seulement de l'argent américaine, mais voilà que des amis arrivent cette semaine du Mexique et ils ont regretté d'avoir enmener de l'argent américaine. Ils disent que c'était plus facile de retirer des pesos au guichet et plus facile aussi à utiliser. Alors que choisir?

Plus que 6 semaines. 🙂

Manon et Jacques

Qu'est-il suggéré de visiter en Bourgogne ?

je cherche une compagnie aérienne pour des billets pour Managua, sans passer par les USA, et à un prix interessant... Je veux partir au mois de Juillet, et je n'arrive pas à trouver ce que je veux... Toute information sera la bienvenue et merci !😉

Bonjour à tous, 😉

Nous avons décidé avec ma femme de partir souffler en couple (nous avons 4 enfants de moins de 8 ans...)

à PUNTA CANA en décembre.

Nous souhaitons partir avec N.FRONTIERES qui généralement est assez sérieux et qui propose une classe grand large pour le voyage....

Nous hésitons sur l'hotel... le BAVARO PALACE nous semble agréable pour recharger nos accus...😛 afin de retrouver des forces pour les gosses....

Merci d'avance pour votre aide

Bonjour @ tous!

Étant un amoureux de la riviera Maya, j'ai décidé d'aller visiter cette région de la République Dominicaine puisque j'ai mis la main sur une Super AUBAINE, départ le 20 juin prochain à partir de Toronto, Canada.

mes principales questions regardent tout particulièrement la Plage à cet endroit et aussi sur la bouffe qui est servie au Grand Paradise.

De plus, si vous y avez été vous-mêmes, des conseils sur les meilleurs chambres/ bâtiments seraient les bienvenus.

J'attend avec impatience vos commentaires.

Gracias!

A ceux qui sont allés au Sunscape Casa Del Mar, suggérez-vous le 2ème ou 3ème étage.

Le gérant nous a réservé une chambre au 2ème étage dans le bloc 2. Nous avions demandé au 3ème, mais il nous a dit qu'au 3ème c'était plus bruyant, avec écho.

Par contre au 2ème, j'ai peur d'entendre les gens d'en haut marcher.

Votre avis s.v.p.

Merci!

😏Bonjour, j'hésite encore entre les bâtiments 2 et 7, avez-vous des arguments pour me convaincre.

Je veux une chambre tranquille, avec beaucoup de végétation autour, si on n'a pas une vue de la mer, ce sera beau quand-même.

Et pas trop loin de la plage... et du buffet...

Merci beaucoup!

A ceux qui ont déjà fait l'excursion de l'ile Saona à Bayahibe:

Coût de l'excursion?

Est-ce moins cher si on prend l'excursion au village des pêcheurs, près du Casa Del Mar?

Est-ce le même prix enfant ou adulte?

Merci beaucoup!

Salut,

Je pars pour CayoCoco fin mars, est-ce que quelqu'un peut me renseigner sur les excursions qui sont possible de faire, celle qui en valent la peine et le coût de celles-ci??? Et surtout celles à éviter...

Merci

Quelqu'un connaît-il l'hôtel Mont-Vernon à St-Martin et savez-vous si les gens peuvent y faire du naturisme ? Merci!

bonjours a tous

nouveau sur le forum, j aimerai des avis sur des bons hotels o mexique et plus particulierement des infos sur le copacabana et le palladium kantenah resort pour ceux qui les connaissent. merci d avance et si vous souhaitez des infos sur punta cana ecrivez moi, eric__555@caramail.com

Bonjour

Nous prévoyons faire un voyage soit à Bayahibe ou Punta Cana. On nous propose Viva Dominicus Palace ou Occidental Grand Flamenco. Sommes indécis. Vos commentaires seraient appréciés. De plus, on entend souvent dire que des gens ont acheté en ligne à des prix plus avantageux, j'aimerais avoir les liens, tout ce que j'ai c'est exit.ca ou expedia.ca et il n'y a pas une grande différence avec les agences de voyages.

Merci à l'avance.

Manon

Rebonjour

N'ayant pas eu bcp de réponses à mes interrogations concernant la vie andalouse, j'ai décidé que je partiras faire ma visite de la région en automne et m'installerai si l'opportunité se présente à moi. J'aimerais donc avoir le plus d'informations sur les campings, les pensions ou les chambres d'hôte dans les villages tout en sachant que je possède déjà des adresses pour les grandes villes. Voilà, voilà, donc j'aimerais avoir quelques bon plans logements, si possible pas trop chers.....vos coups de coeur sont les bienvenus!! Je vous remercie d'avance et à bientôt.

Revenant d'Andalousie et étant tombée amoureuse de cette région, j'aimerais trouver des plans boulots et apparts (ou squatts) afin de m'y "installer" dès septembre. J'aimerais en effet travailler sur place pour essayer de visiter entièrement cette région qui, d'un point de vue historique (et esthétique!!) est d'un e richesse inouïe!!

J'espère que vous pourrez m'aider, Merci et à bientôt.

existe t il des cartes assez precise pour aller a la decouverte du maroc😉

“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.

With the kids getting older, I’ve finally decided to head somewhere a bit more exotic than our usual (and wonderful) Brittany. We’ve chosen to visit Austria and Slovenia, with a little detour through Zagreb. We’ll be spending a day there, and I’d love to make sure we don’t miss anything. Here’s my little plan—let me know what you think!

- Parking between Ridnjack Park and Zagreb Cathedral - Quick stroll through Dolac Market - Visit Kamenita Vrata (Stone Gate) - Saint Catherine’s Church - Head to Lotrščak Tower: at noon for the cannon firing. - Walk through Grič Tunnel - Head down to Ban Jelačić Square - Then visit Zrinjevac Park (its monuments and beautiful facades) - Head back north to see St. Mark’s Church - Tkalčićeva Street (pedestrian street) and Opatovina Park

There we go... I’ve definitely forgotten a ton of things... What do you think? Thanks!

Stéphane.

Hi, I’m taking the Cotisse bus soon to go to Antsohihy, so the route is Tana-Majunga with a stop at Antanambaza. How long does it take to get to Antanambaza? Should I leave at 6:30 PM or 7:00 AM? Considering I’ll probably need to find a hotel while waiting for a *taxi be* to Antsohihy, I’d rather not arrive in the middle of the night. And since I’m asking—does anyone have a hotel recommendation in Antanambaza? Also, can you find a seat on a *taxi be* mid-route?

Thanks! !

Hi there, Our son is in Canada for a year on a Working Holiday Visa, and we’re planning to join him around September 20th for a 15-day campervan road trip in Nova Scotia. I was thinking of going with Canadream, but if you have other rental companies to recommend, don’t hesitate! Here’s the itinerary I’ve been considering—I tried not to cram in too many stops so we’re not just driving the whole time.

Day 1: Pick up campervan in Halifax at 3 PM. Stop at Peggy’s Cove, then drive to Lunenburg and Blue Rocks (151 km) Day 2: Explore Lunenburg, then head to Kejimkujik National Park for hikes or other activities. Overnight in the park (91 km) Day 3: Drive to Annapolis Royal (visit), Port-Royal National Historic Site, then on to Digby (111 km) Day 4: Ferry to Saint John (visit Reversing Falls), then drive to St. Andrews (103 km) Day 5: Whale-watching excursion and explore St. Andrews Day 6: Drive to Alma and Fundy National Park (233 km—we’ll probably leave St. Andrews the night before to split the drive and arrive earlier in Alma) Day 7: Hopewell Rocks (check tides) (43 km) Day 8: Hopewell Rocks—Tatamagouche (dinner train)—Pictou (237 km). Any suggestions for this day? Day 9: Drive to Baddeck, Cabot Trail to Chéticamp (317 km). Ideas for breaking up the drive? I thought of Pomquet Beach Provincial Park for a walk on the boardwalks, but any other suggestions are welcome. Day 10–11: Cape Breton Highlands National Park for hikes and Cabot Trail to Baddeck (208 km) Day 12: Explore Baddeck, Graham Bell Museum, and Bras d’Or Lake Drive. Drive to Louisbourg (118 km) Day 13: Fortress of Louisbourg, then drive to Liscomb (302 km) Day 14: Drive back to Halifax via Lawrencetown Beach (or other suggestions?). Fisherman’s Cove (205 km) Day 15: Return campervan by 10 AM

- All suggestions are welcome, as long as they don’t add too much detour from the main stops. We’d rather skip some places to fully enjoy the ones we visit. We love hiking in beautiful landscapes, charming and lively towns or villages, etc. - I wanted to add a museum dedicated to Acadian culture, but I didn’t find anything along the route—or they’re closed this time of year. Maybe there are places to listen to folk music? - If you have any campgrounds or wild camping spots to recommend, I’d love to hear about them. - Do we need to book the ferry this time of year?

Thanks in advance for your ideas and suggestions!

Claire

Hi everyone! I’m heading to Indonesia in September with 3 friends, and we’re starting to plan our itinerary, but we’re still not sure which islands to prioritize. We love nature, road trips, and want to avoid mass tourism. If you have any tips on less touristy but equally stunning islands, I’d love to hear them! 😊

Also, our budget is pretty tight, so we’re looking for ways to manage money during the trip. What are your tips for saving money while still making the most of the experience? And if you have any tricks for tracking and sharing expenses between us, I’m really interested! We tried Excel, but it’s not always easy to manage.

Thanks in advance for your recommendations and great tips!

Hi everyone, What great news to read that Voyage Forum is back up and running—I’m so happy! 🙂 I need some advice for a trip we’re planning in 2025: New Caledonia and Australia.

We’ll arrive in Australia on September 1, 2025, and the plan is to spend 2 nights in Melbourne to explore the city, then rent a car to drive from Melbourne to Sydney, where we’ll arrive on September 12. Unfortunately, we won’t have time for the Great Ocean Road

I’ve checked several blogs for this route and here’s the itinerary I’ve put together:

9/4: Melbourne to Philip Island (140 km) – 1 night 9/5: Philip Island to Wilsons Promontory National Park – 2 nights 9/7: Raymond Island (free ferry to cross a 200 m sea channel) – Lakes Entrance – 1 night 9/8: Drive to Narooma (stop at Quarry Beach) – 1 night at "Bodalla Park Forest Rest Area" 9/9: Batemans Bay – Pebbly Beach – Dolphin Point – Jervis Bay – 1 night (to be found) 9/10: Jervis Bay and surroundings – 1 night at Bendeela Picnic Area 9/11: Blue Mountains National Park (1 hour from Sydney) – 1 night (to be found) 9/12: Arrival in Sydney

I know we won’t be able to see everything, and this 9-day route is just a starting point. The goal is to avoid rushing—if we see a place we like, we’ll stop, even if it means seeing less. A vacation where we don’t watch the clock too much! 🙂 Does this route (a mix of several blogs where not all stops are noted) seem realistic or too ambitious? Are there certain spots that are more worth prioritizing over the ones I’ve listed? For example, in one of the blogs I read, travelers skipped Blue Mountains National Park because they chose another site (which I’ve forgotten 😎).

For accommodation, we’ll likely be camping (free or paid), so if you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them! 😎

Our arrival in Sydney on September 12 depends on my hope to participate in the marathon on September 15, 2025. After that, we’ll leave Sydney on September 17 for Ayers Rock.

Thanks in advance for your tips and ideas—it’s always tricky to plan a route from a distance when time is limited.

And long live this site, which I’ve missed so much since 2020! 😎🙂

Bonjour.En voyage virtuel je prépare un futur périple pour emmener des amies qui ne connaissent pas le Maroc. Après la vallée des Ait Bouguemez, Demnate je voudrais rejoindre les environs de Ouarzazate (telouet etc...). J'ai déjà pris la R307 et mis à part des paysages grandioses j'en garde un souvenir épouvantable à cause de la route :j'ai fait du 20 kms tout du long en me demandant si la voiture n'allait pas expirer car moi je suis arrivée à bout de souffle au gîte...je me demande quel serait le meilleur itinéraire à partir de Demnate: -P 3108-P2016: Ait Adel, Ait Abdi, Azlag, abadou, Mdast, Al Mahrouze puis la N9.. -P2117: Sidi Rahal-Touama puis N9... Avez-vous fait la route Agouti-Demnate :R302 car je n'en ai fait qu'une petite partie. Merci.Au plaisir de vous lire.

Bonjour à tous, comme beaucoup d’entre vous, je me retrouve en repos forcé, ça va être très difficile.. J’ai beaucoup consulté ce forum, et beaucoup d’entre vous m’ont persuadé sans le savoir de voyager. Je vous en remercie. Comme j’ai du temps je me lance à mon tour dans la rédaction d’un carnet de voyage. Pour les photos, je ne suis pas un pro, il y en a de très belles sur de nombreux sites, je souhaitais juste quelques souvenirs et ne pas passer mon temps à mitrailler pour profiter. Avec le souhait que cela donne envie à d’autres de faire leurs valises.



Je me présente : Laurent, 44 ans, j’habite La Rochelle où j’aiguille les trains. Je vis dehors en permanence : natation en mer, vélo, marche, cafés et pique-niques entre amis au bord de mer je ne suis pas fan de shopping, musées et parcs d’attractions. Je suis parti dans l’ouest américain en septembre 2019 : Californie, Arizona, Utah, Nevada. C’est un voyage qui me trottait dans la tête depuis un petit moment. J’ai hésité à partir seul j’avais tendu des perches qui n’ont pas été saisies. En fait cela ne m’inquiétait pas de partir seul et je pourrai aller à mon rythme selon mes envies. J’avais besoin de faire une pause. En février 2019 je suis sur Skyscanner sans savoir que 10mn plus tard ce serait parti pour un road-trip aux USA de 18 jours.

Je tombe sur un vol AR United Airlines Paris – San-Francisco à 415 euros, sans escale avec bagage. J’hésite (pas longtemps) et hop billet pris. En 48 h j’affine le parcours et là : Frustration (pas désagréable) ! Il devient évident que d’autres voyages seront nécessaires : il y a le budget (je pars seul donc ce sera cher), le temps, et surtout les concessions : il y a trop de choses à voir et à faire je le verrai pendant les six mois de préparation. Ce qui est magique en fait !!!



Jour 0 : 17 septembre La Rochelle – Paris Je me retrouve donc sur le quai de la gare de La Rochelle, deux amies m’ont accompagné, avec une valise pas trop lourde (16kgs) et un sac à dos. Je pars peu en vacances, je ne réalise pas, je flotte. Je n’ai aucune inquiétude. Je dormirai chez mes parents en banlieue ce soir. Tout se passe bien.

Jour 1 : 18 Septembre Une longue et belle journée Paris – San-Francisco

Départ pour Roissy à 5h00 avant les bouchons, tout s’enchaîne super bien, pas d’attente, pas de stress, je change la carte Sim de mon téléphone, embarquement, installation et décollage à l’heure 9h15. Je suis assis au hublot, 15mn après on survole Boulogne-sur-Mer, en 3mn c’est Folkestone. Le voyage a vraiment commencé. Les nuages s’effaceront au dessus du Groenland puis au bout de 11h, voilà enfin l’Océan Pacifique avec les forêts de l’Oregon. Puis c’est la descente vers l’aéroport. Dommage le temps est un peu nuageux. Il est 11h30, je débarque à San-Francisco en Californie en 15 mn je passe la douane, je récupère ma valise et je me retrouve sur le quai du BART (le RER de San Francisco). Nous sommes plusieurs français dubitatifs devant le distributeur de billets. Explication : sur le ticket, il n’y a pas de destination mais un prix. On regarde sur un tableau sa destination, et on sélectionne un ticket au prix correspondant, si on n’a pas payé assez on ne peut pas sortir.

Je descends à la station « 16th Street Mission », je monte l’escalier et je me retrouve dans la série « Les Rues de San Francisco ». De vieux immeubles typiques, le drapeau américain, des sdf avec leurs cabats, une odeur de marijuana, des voitures de police. C’est sûr je suis aux USA mais tout est tranquille, il n’y aucune agressivité. Je trouve mon bus pour « Van Ness Avenue et Bay Street » le 49.



San-Francisco, ça monte et ça descend, à l’avant des bus il y a des supports où les gens peuvent installer leur vélo, je n’en reviens pas. Après 20mn, la baie de San-Francisco apparait. Je descends, j’ai 10mn de marche jusqu’à l’auberge de jeunesse « HI San Francisco Fisherman’s Warf Hostel » de Fort-Mason. Le soleil joue à cache-cache avec les nuages, il fait doux, ce n’est pas la même ambiance qu’à la sortie du BART. Sur la droite, il y a une plage avec des gradins, l’Ile d’Alcatraz est à sa place, je monte une côte dans une rue piétonne et arborée et je me retrouve face au Golden-Gate. C’est surréaliste

Je ne suis jamais allé en auberge de jeunesse. Un copain qui me connait bien m’avait mis en garde, « Ce n’est pas pour toi !». Je garde un souvenir amusé mais il avait raison, nous en reparlerons.

J’arrive donc à l’auberge de jeunesse, accueil super sympa, chambre sommaire mais propre, quatre lits qui semblent confortables. Il est à peine 13h30 j’ai le temps de profiter de l’après-midi. Je vais prendre une douche et là, premiers doutes. Une grande pièce avec trois WC fermés ni en haut, ni en bas, une rangée de lavabos et une douche au fond seulement fermée par un rideau… A cette heure pas de soucis, il n’y a personne.

Je prends des renseignements pour louer un vélo le lendemain et je pars découvrir Fisherman’s Warf. 4h de promenade, je ne vois pas le temps passer. Plusieurs jetées, la vue sur Alcatraz, les otaries qui se prélassent, Lombard Street avec ses lacets. Une petite déception, le cable-car est en maintenance depuis deux semaines et pour encore 3 jours et je serai parti. Vers 17h je commence sérieusement à avoir faim, pas très original mais pour le premier soir ce sera pizza face à la mer. La fatigue commence à se faire sentir mais le temps s’est dégagé et je vais pouvoir profiter d’un beau coucher de soleil sur le Golden-Gate et les anciens docks.





Je rejoins l’auberge de jeunesse, dans la chambre un italien, qui part randonner et faire du paddle au Lac Tahoe (une bonne idée) . Nous engageons la conversation. Je parle anglais comme une clef à molette mais j’arrive à bien comprendre. La fatigue arrive, ça fait 35h que je suis réveillé. Lavage de dents et joies de l’auberge, un gars est en train de caguer bruyamment. Pas très glop. Puis la nuit sera courte 2h se sommeil au maximum malgré les bouchons d’oreilles et le masque de nuit. Le décalage horaire, un ronfleur et un japonais qui se lèvera quinze fois. On m’avait prévenu…

Jour 2: 19 septembre Une journée en plein air à San-Francisco

Mon manque de sommeil n'entame pas ma bonne humeur ce matin, il fait un temps magnifique, je vais en profiter. Le petit déjeuner de l'auberge tarde et je décide de le prendre sur le Warf. Il sera très copieux au Boudin Bakery Cafe.

Puis je me rends chez Blazing Saddles Bikes où je loue un VTC , j'ai une réduction par l'intermédiaire de l'AJ (c'est déjà ça) et un retour en bac depuis l'autre côté de la baie. C'est donc parti pour une cinquantaine de kilomètres. Je suis habitué du vélo à La Rochelle et dans le Marais Poitevin où les dénivelés sont proches de "0 "mais à SF c'est un peu différent, ça compte double😉😉😉.

Je prends le chemin du Golden-Gate, sur des pistes cyclables le long du "Marina Blvd" il n'y a pas grand monde, il fait doux, beaucoup d'espace verts. J'arrive jusqu'au pied du pont, mais j'y passerai plus tard. je continue le long de la côte en direction d'"Ocean Beach" , une plage immense très sauvage aux portes de la ville. Il y a surtout des surfers. Ce n'est pas conseillé de se baigner car il y a beaucoup de rouleaux. Mais je ne résiste pas longtemps à tremper mes pieds dans l'Océan Pacifique!!! Après ce bon bol d'air je file dans le Golden Gate Park et je rejoins le Golden Gate par le Presidio. Par moment on se croit en Provence ou en Bretagne, on ne sent pas en ville, il y a plusieurs points de vue sur la baie et le large. Il est temps de franchir le Golden Gate, cela prendra une dizaine de minutes, c'est très sympa malgré le vacarme des voitures. Ensuite je décide de rejoindre Sausalito et Tiburon pour faire la balade complète. Je m'attendais à un peu mieux car la piste n'est jamais très loin de l'autoroute et Sausalito n'est qu'une Marina avec des restaurants. En arrivant à l'embarcadère de Tiburon, il fait chaud, un Coca sera le bienvenue. La traversée est la récompense du trajet en vélo. Il y a peu de personnes au départ de Tiburon mais à Sausalito le bac se remplit. je peux contempler Angel's Island et Alcatraz. C'est très content de cette promenade que je rends le vélo. le matin j'avais discuté avec des triathlètes voyant quelques nageurs à la plage près de Fort-Mason, l'eau y est à 17°, on me dit quand même de venir avec le strict minimum pour éviter les vols. une grand-mère qui tricote sur les gradins me gardera mes affaires. Je nage 30mn, ça fait vraiment du bien. A 30m de la plage deux jeunes otaries s'amusent . Je terminerai la soirée en allant vers la "Coit Tower" déjà fermée puis en profitant d'un nouveau merveilleux coucher de soleil. Je passe au Safeway faire quelques courses pour le voyage de demain. Ce soir, j'ai changé de chambre, je la partage avec un australien, un italien et un américain. La salle de bain n'est pas la même, il y a plusieurs douches séparées par un simple rideau. Ce n'est vraiment pas pour moi. Mais à l'extinction des feux, miracle, pas un bruit... Ce ne sera que de courte durée, deux personnes parlent dans le couloir. Et cela durera une bonne partie de la nuit. vers 3h je sors, il s'agit de deux jeunes (un gars une fille)de 20 ans qui discutent. En fait je ne leur dirait rien, cela me fait rire, de toute manière je me lève à 5h. La nuit est fichue...

Bonjour à tous,

je sais qu' il y a déjà eu plusieurs Post' sur les Philippines, mais .... dur dur de trancher. ;-(

Sans entrer des les détails à 100% des villes, si vous deviez m'orienter, en sachant qu'il y a des choix à faire pour 16 JOURS sur place (on ne peut pas tout faire!), que me conseillez -vous ?

J'ai envie de voir les rizières de Luzon, mais, avec tous les temps de route, j'ai peur de ne pas pouvoir faire bcp d'iles ensuite !?

Doit-on impérativement voir qq rizières sur Luzon ?

Faire une boucle sur CEBU & alentours + boucle sur Palawan + Coron = laisse du temps pour Luzon !?? j'ai un gros doute! ;-(

Si je termine le séjour à Coron, pour revenir sur Manille, des avions existent, ou faut retourner à Puerto ?

Un grand merci par avance pour votre aide. ;)

MERCI.

;)

Bonjour,

Nous désirons organiser des vacances en famille à Londres du 20 décembre jusqu'au 5 Janvier avec 2 enfants de 4 et 6 ans. Nous aurions aimé avoir quelques suggestions de visites immanquables avec nos enfants ainsi que des idées pour passer le réveillon du 31 décembre. Nous pensons loger à l'extérieur de Londres, est ce que les accès vers Londres en voiture sont faciles ainsi que le stationnement ?

Merci pour votre aide...

Claire & Philippe