Results for "Croisette+|+127"

Bonjour, vous devez me justifier pourquoi selon vous cette pièce est de trop ou manquante.Voici la liste du matériel que j'apporterai lors de mon voyage autour du monde dans un an. Cette liste a été conçu pour un homme (donc sans serviette sanitaire et ses amies). Je ne suis pas allé dans les détails de chacunes des pièces d'équipement et des quantités nécessaires. De plus elle est conçu pour une personne qui travaillera le long du voyage. Si vous souhaitez utilisez cette liste, faites vous plaisir. Cette liste servira entre-autre à venir en aide à d'autres voyageurs qui seront initiés à la préparation au voyage par l'entremise d'atelier.

Liste dumatériel nécessaire pour le voyage

Vêtements

Espadrille

Soulier propre

Sandale

Botte de marche

Lacet de rechange

Liquide protecteur pour botte

Bas

Sous-vêtement (culotte)

T-Shirt de coton

Chandail à manche longue Bi-polar

Caleçon Bi-polar

Polar

Pantalon/short

Pantalon propre

Chemise propre

Chemise à manche longue

Chandail à manche longue

Costume de bain

Chapeau

Manteau coupe-vent (imperméable)

Lunette de soleil avec cordon

Tuque

Gant chaud

Ceinture

Montre

Premiers soins

Gel pour maux de dent

Pilules contre la malaria

Bandage adhésif (Band-aid)

Compresse stérile

Bandage élastique

Diachylon

Teinture d’iode

Épingle à couche

Condom

Moleskine (coussin contre les ampoules)

Seringue et aiguille jetable

Tylenol

Imodium

Gravol

Crème antibiotique

Codéine avec acétaminophène (Tylenol #3)

Solution de réhydratation orale (Gastrolyte)

Stérigel

Étui à premier soin

Couverture de survie

Crème anti-itch Band aid

Matériel de camping

Tente

Matelas de sol (bleu)

Sac de couchage

Couverture de soie En poche à patate

Sac à dos 105 litres

Sac de jour

Bâche bleu

Couteau suisse

Lampe frontale

Batteries de rechange pour lampe frontale

Support à batterie pour lampe frontale

Ampoule de rechange pour lampe frontale

Briquet

Allumettes (Strike anywhere)

Contenant de pellicule photo (pour allumettes)

Pierre de magnésium

Allumes feux

Brûleur

Sac à brûleur

Kit réflecteur pour brûleur

Kit de réparation pour brûleur

Bombonne à combustible

Casseroles

Spatule de plastique

Gourde nalgène

Contenant transparent Ziploc hermétique en plastique

Assiette

Tasse de plastique

Cuillère, fourchette, couteau

Sac en filet pour ustensiles et assiette

Contenant multi-épice

Laine d’acier

Papier d’aluminium

Bâtons de marche

Longues vues

Sac pour longues vues

Cordon 10 mètres de longueur

Mousqueton

Coussin en mousse bleu

Guenille

Sifflet

Crayon

Papier

Sac Ziploc petit

Sac Style Ziploc pour vêtements

Pristine

Filtre à café

Sac en plastique pour déchet

Sac à poubelle orange

Baladeur

Écouteur

Casette 90 minutes

Batterie AA de rechange

Duke Tape

Crayon de feutre à pointe large noir

Petit cadenas à combinaison

Chandelle

Lampe pour chandelle

Boussole Avec déclinaison magnétique

Aiguille de couture

Fil à coudre

Boucle de plastique de rechange

Moustiquaire de lit

Calculatrice

Jeu de carte

Jeu de société de poche

Cache yeux

Bouchon d’oreille

Bouchon plat universel en caoutchouc

Roman de poche

Petit réveil matin

Matériel photographique

Appareil photo

Batterie de rechange pour l’appareil photo

Pellicules

Filtre polariseur

Capuchon de protection pour la lentille

Nettoyeur à lentille

Trépied compacte

Sacoche

Sachet pour l’absorption de l’humidité

Chasse-moustique (avec deet)

Papiers et documents

Passeport

Visa

Photocopie du passeport et cartes d’identités

Carnet de vaccination

Permit de conduire international

Permis de conduire

Baptistère

Carte d’identité

Carte d’assurance sociale

Carte d’assurance maladie

Carte de guichet

Porte feuille avec chaîne de sécurité

Carte visas

Carte d’auberges jeunesses

Carnet de chèque

Chèque de voyage

Curriculum Vitae (anglais et français)

Lettre de référence (anglais et français)

Tube de plastique pour protéger les documents

Pochette de plastique 8 ½ x 11

Guide de voyage

Dictionnaire de langue (anglais/français et espagnol/français)

Carnet de voyage avec adresses importantes

Album photo du Québec

Mots du médecin pour transport de médicament

Billet d’avion

Etui de taille pour passeport

Carte d’appel

Carte de plongée

Hygiène

Verres de contact

Liquide à verres de contact

Boîtier pour verres de contact

Lunette

Boîtier à lunette

Dentifrice

Brosse à dent

Boîtier pour la brosse à dent

Fil dentaire

Coupe ongle

Pince à cils

Brosse à cheveux

Shampoing

Savon pour le corps

Boîtier à savon

Débarbouillette

Serviette de plage

Savon à linge

Petite brosse à linge

Rasoir à barbe

Lame de rechange pour rasoir

Crème à raser

Déodorisant

Etui pour accessoires d’hygiène

Lotion solaire

Q-Tips

Papier de toilette

Autres

Masque de plongée

Tuba

Produite par Patrick Nadeau 21/02/2004

Salut a tous,

hé voilà j'ai enfin mon billet!!! J'arrive a delhi le 27/02 a 23h30, la question que je me pose est de savoir s'il est préférable de dormir à l'aéroport ? Si certain d'entre vous ont des bons plans ou adresses, je suis preneuse.

C'est mon premier voyage en solo, donc si vous voulez partager un bout de chemin ou si vous étre dans les parages, nous pourrions nous rencontrer?

A bientôt😉

🤪😉 acheter des cigares dans les hotels si oui quelle marque.

ex : partagas pour des cubains.

mais pour la rd surtout sur punta cana.😎😎

Voici un récit écrit récemment sur une navigation Paris - Chambéry réalisée en mai dernier. Cette fois-ci, je n'ai pas fait trop de rencontres humaines, ou même animales, mais j'ai pu m'émerveiller sur la beauté de la Terre (en France, en plus!).

30 avril au soir et 1er mai 2003 au matin.

Ca commence toujours pareil.

Un trait sur la carte, le plus droit possible, en fonction des espaces aériens et du relief. Quelques indications notées sur une feuille de papier viendront compléter cette préparation.

Ensuite, régler le réveil pour trop tôt demain matin. Toujours trop tôt. Je n’ai jamais aimé me lever tôt, même pour aller rejoindre des amis à l’autre bout de la France, même si cette jonction se fera par la voie des airs.

Une dernière check de la météo sur internet. Pas terrible. Je sens que mon réveil va aller se faire voir demain matin, ce qui, d’un autre côté, est dommage, parce que ce voyage, je l’attends depuis longtemps. Comme toujours, on verra bien, en attendant, il faut dormir, pour être en forme demain, il est déjà une heure.

Non, il est déjà six heures et demie. Encore un peu. Ah, comme tout est plus facile le soir. Allez, il est sept heures moins le quart. Je ne peux pas me permettre de combler mon retard en prenant un petit déjeuner allégé. Pas cette fois-ci. Je ne vais pas au travail. Cette fois-ci, c’est une histoire plus sérieuse. Il n’y a pas de croissanteries entre les cumulus.

Allumer l’ordinateur, lancer internet, se connecter à Météo France. Rubrique aéronautique. Le temps ? Mouais. Vraiment moyen. Juste le temps intermédiaire où on ne peut pas se replonger sous la couette en disant « super, je dors encore, maintenant, c’est sûr, pas moyen d’aller voler », et où on ne peut pas non plus se dire : « Ca va être une super navigation, du gateau ! Je suis sûr d’être à destination à l’heure prévue ». Dans ces cas là, une seule chose à faire : déjà, aller au terrain. Ensuite, voir comment ça évolue.

Je prends mon petit déjeuner et mes affaires, puis descend à la voiture. Périf, A4, Lognes, ciel bas et gris, sol humide, essuis-glace intermittents. Le trajet habituel, maintes et maintes fois effectué.

Je passe à la tour prendre les dernière nouvelles officielles concernant la réglementation et les éventuels évènements exceptionnels sur le trajet prévu (ces formalités s’appellent les NOTAM). Rien des spécial, à part une balise en rade sur la route. Je ferai sans. Si je décolle. Pour le moment, le plafond n’a pas l’air très haut, et on sent qu’il va bientôt pleuvoir. Il y a du vent qui souffle assez fort. La visibilité est moyenne.

Comme je m’y attendais, personne au club. Tout est fermé. Les hangars aussi. Heureusement, quelqu’un arrive. Un mécano. J’entre avec lui. J’ouvre les portes du hangar, je sors le Piper. Je le prépare. Le temps reste toujours le même. Je ferai comme d’habitude : « Just go and see. », comme on dit outre-Atlantique. Le plafond est au moins suffisant pour faire des tours de piste. De plus, selon la météo plus nationale, sur la route, il fait beau. L’incertitude réside au départ, et à l’arrivée. Là bas, il y a aussi des nuages. On verra bien. Les jauges sont pleines, et je calcule qu’il me restera deux heures et demie d’autonomie à l’arrivée, de quoi rentrer à Lognes, dans la pire des extrémités. Je décide de la tenter.

Démarrage. Contact radio. Roulage. Alignement. Décollage. Huit heures. La visibilité est effectivement limite, mais je connais la région, et vers le sud, ça a l’air de se dégager. Je prends mon cap, corrigé de dix degrés à cause du vent. Pour le moment, je baisse la tête pour ne pas me cogner aux nuages au dessus de moi. Je suis à 1300 pieds. Je passe entre les deux étangs qui marquent en quelque sorte la porte de sortie de l’espace de Lognes. Je contacte Melun. Jour férié, personne, normal. Un autre avion passe sur ma droite, à la même hauteur, pas très loin. Ce sera la seule créature ailée croisée durant toute cette navigation matinale.

A Melun, le plafond nuageux monte d’un cran, je le suis. La visibilité devient meilleure. Je décide de continuer. Au moins jusqu’à Auxerre. Je quitte Melun, ciao, merci pour la compagnie à la radio, j’étais le seul à me parler, sympa.

Je passe la forêt de Fontainebleau, un peu triste dans cette grisaille. Mais toujours plus au sud, ça se dégage. Je peux encore monter. Je monte. Un peu plus loin, un peu avant Auxerre, c’est l’éclaircie. Le front est passé, il est derrière moi, et devant, c’est un ciel dorénavant totalement bleu. La visibilité est dingue. Je vois très loin. Le survol du Morvan commence. Il restera parmi mes plus beaux souvenirs aéronautiques. On s’imagine tous que le top du top, ce doit être de voler au dessus de paysages grandioses, comme le Sahara ou de hautes montagnes. Certes, certes. Cependant, moi, je ne l’ai pas fait, mais je peux dores et déjà affirmer que le top du top du top, par définition, c’est le survol du Paradis. J’ai survolé, ce matin là, un bout de planète qui n’avait plus rien de terrestre. J’avais la sensation d’être arrivé au Ciel avec mon avion (ce qui n’est pas si choquant, somme toute). Je m’explique : la visibilité et les couleurs étaient telles que l’horizon prenait des allures inhabituelles. Toutes ces magnifiques collines s’enchevêtraient jusqu’à la limite de la courbure de la Terre, tout au sud-est, jusqu’à disparaître au niveau d’une ligne d’horizon qui me paraissait à la fois toute proche et très lointaine. Et surtout, cette sensation que juste derrière, il n’y a plus rien. L’impression d’être sur une sorte de bosse plate, couverte d’une ondulation de verdure printanière (on était le premier mai, il était neuf heures du matin), parcourue de magnifiques cours d’eau, parsemée de vieilles constructions romaines ou moyenageuses, de fermes séculaires, de vergers antiques, de vertes prairies. L’harmonie totale entre l’homme et la nature, des images surgies d’un autre temps. Celui d’avant l’époque où on pouvait aller dans le ciel pour les voir. Où que mon regard se portait, je voyais distinctement, quelque soit la distance. Je sursautai presque quand je vis au loin, dépassant de derrière cette limite du paradis terrestre, un gâteau à la chantilly, sur mes dix heures. Oui, bon, c’est bon, on t’a vu, inutile de te cacher, de toute façon, tu es trop gros, Mont Blanc. Je ne m’attendais pas à te voir déjà, d’autant plus que j’étais redescendu au niveau des collines, pour aller les chatouiller de plus près. Je m’émerveille de longues minutes sur ce cadeau que m’offrent ensemble la nature, la firme qui construit les Piper et Total (à Lognes, c’est Total qui nourrit nos machines). C’est étrange de voir un si beau spectacle de l’harmonie entre la Terre et ses bipèdes habitants grâce à un de ses plus actifs ennemis.

J’envoie un texto à Olivier, qui devra m’attendre au terrain, pour lui dire que tout va bien. Je passe le Morvan. Au revoir. Et merci. J’en ai presque les larmes aux yeux, mais je les retiens, pour ne pas maculer une telle visibilité. Je passe Autun, Montceau-lès-Mines, puis encore quelques collines, et c’est le grand plongeon sur la vallée de la Saône. Je frôle la zone de Saint-Exupéry, à Lyon, par le Nord. Je me branche sur leur fréquence. Je fais bien, les arrivées des gros machins se font par le Nord, je suis légèrement sous leur trajectoire. Je ne les vois pas, mais à les écouter parler, tantôt en anglais, tantôt en français, je devine leur position, et je garde les yeux dehors. Devant moi, s’étale toute la chaîne des Alpes. J’ai repris de l’altitude, environ 3500 pieds. Juste devant, légèrement à ma gauche, la barrière du Jura finissant. En dessous de moi, je repère le terrain de Bourg-en-Bresse. Sous mon aile droite, le Bugey. Au loin, le Rhône avance paresseusement vers la capitale des Gaules. Tout au fond de ce panorama hallucinant, je reconnais certains de mes amis : Le Pic de L’étendard, les aiguilles d’Arves, La Meije, La Grande Casse qui a été un jour bien sympa avec moi, les glaciers de la Vanoise, Toute la bande de Belledonne, Les Aravis, et plein d’autres copains, jamais vus sous cet angle.

A la radio, ça n’arrête pas une seule seconde. J’ai manifestement passé l’axe, maintenant, je n’ai plus besoin d’eux, je veux retrouver le calme du Morvan. Je m’avance toujours vers les hautes collines du Jura. Pour la première fois, je vole à côté de reliefs aussi élevés. Cela fait drôle, il m’arrive de lever la tête pour regarder le sol. Pourtant, je ne suis pas sur le dos, je vole bien sur le ventre, et le PA 28 Archer 2 n’est pas un avion de voltige. Je dois penser sérieusement à l’approche. J’ai un peu trop rêvé. Je me rends compte que derrière le Jura, que je laisse juste à quelques centaines de mètres à gauche de mon aile gauche, les conditions météo donnent raison à la météo: sous moi, s'étend une magnifique mer de nuage. Les Bauges au loin, les Aravis plus loin sont autant de massifs surgis de cette nuée, c’est certes très beau, mais la question n’est plus là. Je dois d’une part trouver mon chemin à travers ces massifs qui, malgré le fait qu’ils me sont familiers, sont vus sous un angle inhabituel, et d’autre part, il faudra tôt ou tard que je traverse la couche, ce qui n’est absolument pas envisageable si elle est totalement soudée. Je dois donc trouver un trou, m’y engouffrer en spiralant dedans pour ne pas m’éclater les tympans, et continuer sous la grisaille au dessus de ce qui devra être le lac du Bourget jusqu’à Chambéry-Aix-Les-Bains, point final de ma destination. Je contacte Chambéry, me signale, signale mon arrivée, et demande la météo sur le terrain. Réponse : quelques nuages bas en voie de dissipation. A tenter.

Pour l’instant, je ne sais pas où se trouve le lac, je me trompe même de vallée à un moment. Je m’en rends compte rapidement, je vire vers la bonne vallée. Un collègue dans la zone me contacte directement pour me dire que les trous existent, lui en a trouvé un au dessus du lac. En effet, j’en repère un en dessous de moi. Je descends donc. Je fais plusieurs circonvolutions pour limiter la vitesse verticale, je suis sensible des oreilles. En dessous, je reconnais le Rhône, qui croise ma route et descend vers Lyon. Je passe finalement sous la couche, et je reste juste en dessous du plafond. Je remonte un peu le fleuve, puis vire à droite, plein sud. J’apperçois alors le lac du Bourget, immense, et tout au bout, je sais qu’il y a Chambéry. J’ai l’impression de pénétrer dans une immense caverne, dont le sol est recouvert d’un lac souterrain géant, éclairée par une lumière diffuse, légèrement grise, bordée de parois presque verticales des deux côtés. L’eau du lac a des couleurs sinistres, parsemées par endroits d'éclats argentés résultants de trous dans le plafond de cette caverne géante, c’est très impressionnant. Je signale ma position, à savoir au nord du lac du Bourget. Ils me demandent de rappeler lorsque j’aurais passé Aix les Bains. Je distingue déjà la ville en question, sur une inflexion de la rive est, devant moi. Au bout de deux minutes, je laisse ce point d'entrée sous mon aile gauche, et me prépare pour intégrer le tour de piste, par la vent arrière. La piste en service est en effet malheureusement la 36, je dois donc faire le tour du circuit de piste. Or, la limite de survol est de 1300 pieds sol, si bien qu’au niveau de la petite colline qui borde le terrain et qu’il faut frôler, à cause du plafond qui baisse au fur et à mesure que je me rapproche du terrain, ça risque de ne pas passer. Et effectivement, je passe la rive du lac, et me voilà en vent arrière, je dois encore descendre si je ne veux pas me retrouver dans la couche, et mon altimètre indique que je suis clairement plus bas que la limite autorisée. J’essaye malgré tout d’éviter les zones d’habitations, il est encore tôt, et on est un jour férié, que diable. Les Chambériens ont bien le droit au repos, eux aussi. Je passe la colline, les nuages sont d’un seul coup plus épars. Je sors les volets, vire plein ouest. J’ai maintenant la piste à ma droite. Je suis presque dans l’axe. Je descends, vire encore de 90 degrés, et rejoins la finale. Maintenant, j’ai la 36 en face de moi, elle est immense. Je n’ai pas l’habitude de me poser sur un véritable aéroport. Mon dernier doit remonter à l’année dernière, à Nantes. Derrière la piste, en fond de paysage, le lac, jusqu’à l’horizon. Un dernier cran de volets, 130 km/h. La radio me donne le vent, quasiment nul, je m’approche encore, courte finale, 125 km/h. La piste arrive. Le seuil de piste défile sous moi, je descends encore, je suis trop haut, j’ai mal pris mes repères, trompé par la largeur de cette piste, sur laquelle on pourrait presque se poser en perpendiculaire tant elle est surdimensionnée. La piste continue de défiler et de s’agrandir sous moi, je finis pas arrondir, et tchouff, le bruit caractéristique du touché des pneus arrière en caoutchouc sur le béton vient symboliser la fin de cette échappée céleste, je retouche l’écorce terrestre. La roue avant tombe d’elle même sous l’effet de la perte de vitesse, puis je freine doucement, et vire à droite sur le taxiway latéral. Mon pote Olivier m’attend là bas, près de la Tour. Il est dis heures et quart, il fait super beau, une belle promenade dans les Bauges nous attend. Et dire qu’il y a un peu plus de deux heures, j’étais à Lognes, dans la grisaille parisienne, et qu’il y a une heure, je survolais le paradis. Etrange, tout ça. Bien étrange.

Bonjour,

Je suis partie avec dégriftour à Agadir pendant une semaine à l'hôtel Amadil Beach. nous avons payé 260 euros la semaine en demi pension, mais nous n'avons pas été déçus pour les mauvaises surprises !

Nous somme partis à quatre.

Le beau temps était là, mais en ce qui concerne l'hôtel il était en travaux !

Nous avons été derangé par le bruit toute la semaine, mauvaise insonorisation dans les chambres, panne générale d'éléctricité pendant deux heures, la piscine n'était pas chauffée, trous dans la chambre, fils éléctriques pendants dans la salle de bain, soirée orientale sans danseuse orientale...

Pour les détails pour ceux qui partent bientôt, à la demande je pourrai vous faire un résumé !

A bientôt

Salut,

Je suis tres attiré par le Yémen et, ayant 3 semaines de libres aux alentours de Noel, je voudrais découvrir ce pays avec une amie.

Quelqu'un peut-il me conseiller sur un tel voyage. Nous sommes plutot des voyageurs à pied, avides de découvrir les montagnes et les hauts plateaux yémenites, et surtout leurs habitants.

J'aimerais avoir quelques retour d'experioences semblables ! (conseils d'itinéraires, logement, possibilité de bivouaquer, carto, moyen de déplacements sur de plus longues distances ...)

Merci d'avance

xavier

hello to all travelers with their eyes wide open to the desert...

I’ve always wondered what I was "doing" on this earth. And why my father, who died a few months after I was born—a former youngest French resistance fighter—joined the First Saharan Motorized Company in Atar and spent the rest of his life repairing army engines in Algeria, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali (which didn’t exist under that name back then), Morocco, and finally Algeria, where my mother was born and raised. (Believe me, it’s not "cool" being the child of a soldier in a country occupied by France, and even less so the child of a "pied-noir.") Of course, I never got an answer: the dead don’t talk, and the army doesn’t either. But here’s the thing—I had photos... So naturally, one day I hit the road. I wanted to see, to understand. It’s thanks to VF that I was able to do a little research on crossing the Morocco-Mauritania border, and I’m grateful to its members, just as I’m grateful to all those who welcomed me on the road for 14 years. For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering if I should talk about this or not... It turns out the Mauritanians changed my life by asking for my help... And that started as early as February 2012... (Did I owe them something? No answer to that question.) Ah, the irony—they saw me coming. But when you’re handed sick children and begged to do something, what would you have done? I’d worked in a hospital, so I knew a bit about the rules to follow. I didn’t hesitate. And well, over all these years, I met doctors, surgeons, and together we organized care, evacuations of children, training for surgeons—even trying to stop children from having to travel outside their country. It was never easy. I’d like to thank those who supported us, as well as *La Chaîne de l’Espoir*, *La Fondation Face au Monde*, and everyone who built bridges between our two countries. Unfortunately, despite the constant efforts of Mauritanian doctors and surgeons, some children couldn’t be helped in time. Today, I want to talk about four siblings—orphans of their mother—suffering from congenital glaucoma causing irreversible blindness. Their case was entrusted to me in 2020, just weeks before the big lockdown. We couldn’t do anything for them then, but when their father asked me for a gift, I rushed to my computer and wrote a story. Through a tale, the children take a great journey, explore their country, and fulfill a dream. I never thought this book would be published—it was, in 2023. This book pays tribute to Mauritania. It’s a message for those who know nothing about the hardships of life there, carrying both the harshness and beauty of an immense desert where you can travel by 4x4, bike, on foot, or by camel in complete safety. It bears witness to the kindness of Mauritanians toward travelers. As a woman traveling alone in my vehicle—a now-rusted old Mercedes that no longer runs—I had the most beautiful encounters of my life there (I’ve seen other parts of the world...). The blind children of Choum, Atar, Nouadhibou, and Nouakchott will forever be in my heart. Volunteer readers transcribed the book into a free audio version for the visually impaired. It’s available in sound libraries in France, the *Fondation Valentin Haüy*, and the Swiss Romande library. I made my last trip to Mauritania in my old 4x4 to distribute the book everywhere, especially to its heroes and the school for the visually impaired in Nouakchott. After that, I thought it was time to close the chapter because I no longer have the means or the strength to travel. My publishers chose this title for it: *The Blue Eyes of the Desert*. This publication helped a mission of Swiss volunteer ophthalmologists come to operate on glaucomas in Mauritania. I’m thrilled because they come back every year! This adventure is ending, yes—everything must come to an end—but ultimately, it was born here, on the VF site!! So yes, I had to say it: THANK YOU!!!!!

Autumn 2025 marks my 11th trip to Japan. I’ve neglected the south for too long, so like last year, it’s my main destination again.

We’ll revisit some familiar spots, but of course, we’ll also try plenty of new things. This trip feels a bit strange—no more of that initial magic, but on the other hand, we’ve really explored some off-the-beaten-path and private locations. The variety of regions, landscapes, and vehicles I’ve photographed is pretty remarkable. In search of vintage trains and threatened lines, I think my future trips will follow the same vibe.

After the 2017 and 2024 travel journals, it’s time to dive into Japan’s lesser-known side—all by public transport, of course. Day 1, arrival in Tokyo

The timing won’t be like other years since we arrive at Narita in the mid-afternoon after a layover in Hong Kong.

The only real mission for this afternoon is picking up tickets for the next day. And already, the first travel stress: I’ll have to rewrite the entire day because the Revaty Kinu 109 to Kinugawaonsen is fully booked, just like all the morning trains. So instead of a relaxed start exploring Ueno, I’m back to scrutinizing schedules. I manage to snag something last-minute after struggling for hours. Then, I wait for a message from Seiichi to meet up for dinner. Meeting friends on the first day and staying up late with jet lag—like I said, this trip isn’t like the others.

A great evening at a place I love.

Hi everyone,

With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo. But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip. And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.

So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays: - 3 nights in St Lucia - 1 night in Hluhluwe - 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini) - 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini) - 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti) - 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve - 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie

All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.

I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).

To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s. Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid. Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.



Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior. Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust... What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.



Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.

After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold? And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs. The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.

Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!

That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos. When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.

Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.



The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.

Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams. The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*

Northern Laos, Nov 25

Thursday, Oct 23. Left home at 8:25 AM, took the bus from St Cyp to Perpignan, then a BlaBlaBus to Barcelona airport. Last night, a huge storm crossed France, and the bus was an hour late. We finally left at 11 AM. At the Spanish border, we were checked—several Africans were traveling on the bus, and their document verification took quite a while. In the end, everything was in order, and we set off again a good half-hour later. We finally arrived at Barcelona airport after 2 PM, but no stress since my flight was scheduled for 4:30 PM with Saudia. At check-in, the hostess told me there’d be a 1-hour delay due to bad weather in France and Belgium. In the end, the flight didn’t just have a 1-hour delay but a 5-hour one because of a technical issue. The next flight wouldn’t wait for us. When we arrived in Jeddah, they gave us another ticket for the following day—the flight to Bangkok was scheduled for 11:55 AM. The airline assigned us a room, which was good news since I was exhausted. Friday morning, the flight was still scheduled for 11:55 AM, but the gate wasn’t displayed. It was announced with a 1-hour delay, but that stretched to 4 hours. They handed out drinks and a snack—again, the delay was due to technical problems. In Bangkok, I had a connecting flight to Chiang Rai, where I’d also booked a room—I lost everything. We finally arrived in Bangkok on Saturday at 4 AM. I had to buy another ticket for a 7 AM flight. The formalities were quick, and my flight went smoothly. A taxi took me to Bus Terminal 1, where I caught a bus leaving at 10 AM, and we arrived at the Thailand-Laos border. I shared a taxi with other travelers, which took us to Houay Xai. The guesthouse I’d booked was right across from the stop—that was great. I exchanged some money and bought a SIM card at the guesthouse. Despite the fatigue, I needed to stretch my legs, so I walked down the street to the temple.









and continued to Fort Carnot, built by the French.



The views of the Mekong are beautiful for a first glimpse of the country.





yum-yum, bon appétit!

At 6:30 PM, I went to dinner at a restaurant across from the guesthouse—a chicken curry with vegetables.



I didn’t linger and went back to bed. I slept well, even if I woke up often.

Hi, I’m leaving this Saturday for Northern India from 15/02 to 27/02. I’m planning to visit New Delhi, Agra, Chand Baori, Jaipur, Ranthambore, Bundi, Udaipur, and Jodhpur.

What’s the best way to get around? I was thinking of doing everything by train. Maybe taking the bus for some stretches?

As for renting a car with a driver, it seems expensive, so I’ve pretty much ruled that out. Unless someone’s got space for the same dates?

Thanks for your insights!

I'm starting a new travel journal in Italy. It's about a month-long trip (from September 3, 2025, to October 4, 2025), or rather a part of it. This section matches the title: an opera festival in Verona (one evening) and the Dolomites in the Veneto region. I'm posting the part of the trip I think will interest French-speaking readers the most (since this is where I saw the most French travelers). Here’s a quick summary: - Trip in September 2025 - Solo travel with camping (caravan) - Small geographic area: besides Verona, the surroundings of the Marmolada massif and Cortina d'Ampezzo. - Main but not exclusive activity: hiking.

Since I have limited internet access where I am now, I’ll be writing slowly. Here we go!

Day 1: Thursday, September 4, 2025

I arrived in Veneto under the sun and with warm weather. I drove to Verona and tried to find a spot at the campsite (Verona Village) located south of the city. Unfortunately, it was full. Booking on the website was mandatory, but when I tried to reserve a few days ago, the site never moved from the "reservation" step to the "payment" step (I don’t know why—it’s always like that in these cases). I found another solution over the phone; the drive from southern Verona to the northeast was a bit long, but I finally settled at the "Oro Verde" campsite. It’s an "agricampeggio" (farm camping or rural campsite) on the outskirts of the city, and its name (green gold) suggests they produce olives there. Since it wasn’t late, I biked to the Adige River, following the recommended route into the city.

Hey everyone,

Yesterday, I checked the Thailand forum to see if there were any questions to answer, but not much was happening—it was pretty quiet. Then I scrolled through the Southeast Asia section and realized that, even though Burma (Myanmar) was included, there weren’t many posts about it... I’ve only been there once, back in 1987, so it’s hard to create a photo thread about multiple trips like I sometimes do for Thailand. Still, that one trip was packed with unusual adventures, so I thought I’d share a few stories from it.

Since I didn’t take any notes at the time, this is all from memory—it’s not an exhaustive travel journal and isn’t meant to help plan a future trip to Myanmar.

Don’t expect photos; there won’t be any. I have some, but they’re slides that would need scanning and editing one by one to fix the wear and tear of time—way too much work.

The Context.

Back then (reminder: 1987), I was volunteering in Paris at the counter of a travel agency on Rue des Écoles. The agency was part of a well-known organization based in Mulhouse that mostly offered scheduled flights to Asia, charter flights to the Mediterranean, and flights to Mali with their own plane. They also had a few rare "roots"-style trips to certain destinations—trips where you didn’t bring your tennis racket but were ready to soak in everything, even if it meant tough conditions.

I’d already been to Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines in Asia. The director knew this, so he asked me to accompany a group to Burma. At the time, tours to Burma were already being sold by competitors, but they all had to go through the state-run agency, Touristburma (buses and hotels for tourists, and they only showed you what they wanted you to see—kind of like traveling in North Korea today). The service was only payable in dollars at the official exchange rate (which was six times worse than the black market rate, mind you...), and since it went through the state agency, all the money ended up with the junta.

My job was to do everything *without* going through Touristburma, which was completely illegal there. Nothing would be booked in advance. Back then, the Burmese visa was only valid for 8 days/7 nights, and since clients were paying for the experience, the itinerary was planned ahead. I’d have to find transport and a guide on the black market as soon as I arrived.

The clients weren’t misled—they knew from the start that the trip would be off the books, that officially we’d be a small group of friends (not an agency), unlike the truth (Touristburma wasn’t mandatory for individual travelers), and that it would be challenging. They also knew their trip would cost 3-4 times less while giving them a much better experience of Burma. As for pretending to be a group of friends, there were only six of us, so it worked out.

To cover all expenses (accommodation, transport, excursions), the agency gave me a sufficient budget. They also gave me the *same* budget a second time, which was strictly for bribing officials who might cause trouble, for backshish (tips), and, if needed, to "help" me get out of prison.

Before I left, I was thoroughly briefed by another guy who’d led the previous trip (he’d dealt with all the initial challenges). He explained everything I needed to know, what to watch out for, and advised me on what to bring as "gifts" (samples of well-known perfumes, specific cigarette and whisky brands, etc.). For the perfume samples, I rallied my family, friends, and even stores. For the rest, I’d pick things up at the duty-free shops in Don Muang (Bangkok’s only airport at the time)—I had the budget for it.

I couldn’t wait to leave...

Hi there, I’ve been traveling for 18 years now, at least 6 months a year, and as the years go by, I actually enjoy coming back to France more and more—a feeling I struggled with at first. I mean, we always think the grass is greener elsewhere. But in the end, I find meaning in that saying about how there’s no place like home. I still love traveling just as much, but now my trips are shorter, and I enjoy spending more time in our beautiful country, even though I don’t hesitate to criticize it. How about you? How do you handle coming back from your travels?

Hi everyone, thanks for your advice! I’m starting a new thread because it seems my first one about Senegal was deleted—or maybe it’s just my computer acting up again 😉. Anyway, I’ve decided to go to Benin instead. I’ll be there from January 5th to February 2nd—why count the days when you love traveling😄? I’d love all your tips on accommodations, restaurants, and itineraries. I’m basically starting from scratch to plan my trip.

Hi everyone! I’m sharing a modest travel journal from my trip to China in August 2025.

There wasn’t much room for improvisation on this trip—everything was planned in advance. Since August is peak season, I decided to book train tickets early, and once that was set, I reserved all the accommodations too. I got everything on Trip.com.

I bought the flight tickets back in March from Hainan Airlines. They were super expensive, but with these travel dates, I couldn’t exactly dream of a bargain!

I picked up e-SIMs valid for a month from Free just before departure: 10 € for the e-SIM + 19.90 € for a one-month plan with 35 GB of data abroad.

No need for a VPN with these e-SIMs, but D. still got one—a multi-device plan for 5 € with a discount from Let’s VPN, valid for a month. It was for evenings at the hotel on Wi-Fi to avoid burning through the 35 GB with video.

I downloaded Alipay, WeChat, Amap (Baidu Maps), and Trip.com. We also have Google Translate and Maps.me—absolute must-haves.

We’re ready to go!

I’ve been waiting for this day for nearly 15 years!! I travel a lot, but this one—this is MY TRIP 🙂 It’s been postponed so many times: because I wanted to do it with the right person, because I have a Turkish stamp in my passport and heard they don’t issue visas with that, because of COVID... and then China introduced a 30-day visa exemption, and that was the green light! Ugh, they forced us to take our vacation in August this year—far from ideal—but no more delays. Saturday, August 2, 2025: it’s finally the big day!

Days 1 and 2: We got dropped off at Charles de Gaulle at 9:30 AM. I supposedly checked in online, but only for the first flight and without getting the boarding pass... Might as well scrap online check-in in that case. So, we spent over an hour in line at the counter to get them. We didn’t have any checked luggage—just our backpacks as carry-ons—so this was a step we’d never had to deal with before, but whatever, it’s done. No wait at passport control, 5 minutes through security, a quick walk around the terminal, 10 minutes in the boarding area, and it was already time to board. Departure around 12:45 PM, arrival in Chongqing at 4:50 AM. We had a few hours of layover before our next flight. Went through immigration, connecting flight control, and security. Pro tip: check your next flight’s boarding gate right after immigration. We never saw it displayed again anywhere in the terminal.

The Free e-SIMs work—phew!

Took off at 9:30 AM, arrived in Guangzhou (Canton) at 11:20 AM in the rain. I love how Chongqing is translated as "Tchoung King" on the screens in the plane—very French!



During my first two trips to China, we paid for everything in cash, but this time, we’re going all-in on Alipay and WeChat. I still brought the leftover change from previous trips—it might come in handy. At the metro station, they showed us a QR code to buy tickets via WeChat. There were probably machines and even a ticket counter, but we didn’t see them, and buying via WeChat was pretty simple. 8 yuan to Changshu Lu, which is 22 stops. So far, so good. Then, we had to find the hotel, which wasn’t on Google Maps, Maps.me, or Amap... Easy 😎! We found it without too much hassle, though. Dropped off our stuff and went out to eat. 55 yuan for two claypots with fish/eel, rice, cabbage, and purple eggplant. When we left, it was pouring. We grabbed our umbrellas and set off to explore the neighborhood: Enning Road (we’ll come back later to check out a specific spot), Shangxiajiu (the pedestrian shopping street), Baohua Road... The area is pretty diverse—one street to the next, it’s like stepping into a different world.





There weren’t many people around, probably because of the rain. We grabbed a quick street food dinner and went to bed—we were exhausted. We struggled to stay awake until 11 PM to adjust to the time change as quickly as possible. There’s a 6-hour time difference.

Prologue

This journal recounts a trip to Rajasthan that’s already over a year old and that I’ve only now found the chance to write about. The summer of 2024 marked my return to India—my tenth trip—after six long years away since my last solo wanderings in Tamil Nadu in 2018 (the journal of which is published on this site). That absence was partly (but not only) due to the long COVID and post-COVID period, which saw a complete halt and then a major slowdown in global tourism. To top it off, Voyage Forum announced its closure in an end-of-the-world atmosphere. A sad time for our favorite social activity…

A few weeks after returning from Rajasthan, I tried to motivate myself to start writing a journal to publish on a forum claiming to be VF’s successor, which I’d eventually signed up for out of desperation. But I kept hesitating and putting the project off because, for one, I no longer have the time I used to. For another, the vibe wasn’t really taking off on that forum—it was overrun with ads and not very active, contrary to what its host’s name suggested. Despite its good intentions and commendable role as a stopgap, it also turned out to be very impractical to use, especially when you don’t have much time like me. I’ll admit I’d occasionally check back on VF to see if anything was happening. But all the discussions remained frozen in time, stuck in that fateful year, 2020. Then, rumors swirled online about shady reasons behind its closure, leaving little room for hope.

And then, one fine morning, I got a message at work from Marien informing me that VF had reopened. What a huge surprise! Even though the forum’s “end” had played out in a somewhat apocalyptic atmosphere, the memories of passionate and heated discussions, the frank debates, and the useful exchanges that made this site a traveler’s goldmine and a unique hub of conviviality all came rushing back to me like a breath of fresh air. I finally saw a sign and tried to motivate myself to find the time to publish the journal of this tenth trip to India and fifth to Rajasthan. But in the end, I got bogged down in professional and family obligations and never managed to find the time to get started. That’s now fixed, though, because I had two reasons for wanting to do it: I find that looking back on a trip to tell others about it is a highly beneficial introspective exercise. Also, I thought this journal could be useful to other travelers on a few points.

Because, “do we really need yet another journal about Rajasthan?” you might rightly ask! Especially in a time when so many journals about the “Land of Kings” have been published since VF’s return, not to mention the countless stories you can already find online about this region, one of India’s most touristy. And I’d add, why go back to Rajasthan for a fifth time, where I’ve already dragged my feet more than enough—through its forts, deserts, temples, cities, villages, bumpy roads, train stations, tasty street food stalls, cheap guesthouses, and more? Where some might see just another overhyped tourist destination full of the same old *Arabian Nights* clichés, worn to a thread, that I mentioned earlier, when there’s so much else to see in India? Well, first because it’s a magnificent country I never tire of, where I started an academic study and made so many connections. It’s also packed with places where you won’t find a single tourist (right, Marie-Jo?), even in the heart of well-trodden paths and classic itineraries. And most importantly, as I said earlier, things have changed in recent years. First, after six years without traveling far, the urge to go back to India was getting stronger. But this time, no more solo trips (often) or duo adventures (sometimes)—now it’s a team of four that has to come along! And even if you can argue with that, what better place than Rajasthan to introduce India to people who’ve never seen it? To kids you want to amaze? Plus, traveling with your new little family to your favorite country isn’t the same as going solo in often spartan conditions that only affect you. It’s a different challenge, but ultimately probably much harder. So, is it really reasonable to take two kids to India, including a two-year-old baby? That’s one of the main goals of this journal (but not the only one)—to try to answer that question.

As you can tell, it’s not so much the destination but the slightly unusual setup of this trip that, in my opinion, will make this journal interesting. Despite my experience and expertise (yes, I dare say it) in India, there were plenty of questions before we finalized the plan and said, “Alright, let’s go!” The questions were flying for us parents. Is it wise to travel to India with a two-year-old? What would we do (it happened) if the kids got very sick? Would they be able to handle a road trip on Rajasthan’s bumpy, dusty roads using public transport? Could they handle the shock of such a different world—the dirt, poverty, pollution, noise (…and the smell, as they say), the spicy food, monkeys, mosquitoes, snakes, tigers, leopards, and so on? In short, all the clichés that I usually joke about suddenly became potential realities. Another concern: as a mixed Franco-African family (not me, but my partner and her oldest), wouldn’t we risk not always being well received, given what you sometimes hear about that in India? How would Indians react to seeing a mixed-race family, the ultimate taboo in a country of purity and social segregation, which would undoubtedly raise many questions for them? Of course, not everything went as expected… Because, as you know, with India—and what makes it charming for some—there are always complications: sometimes where you don’t expect them… and sometimes where you do. I’ll go into detail about that in the journal to come (not right away) and in the final review (even later). These experiences could be useful to travelers who find themselves in similar situations and have the same questions we did before embarking on such a journey. And maybe it’ll spark the curiosity of those who aren’t concerned and will read yet another Rajasthan journal, but with its own unique twists.

Despite my unchanged constraints, which mean I have little time to write this, I don’t want to rush the story, so I’ll take my time. There will probably be lulls. I hope that won’t stop people from coming to react, debate, share their impressions, or ask for information.

From Southern Shikoku, between land and sea, to the blue waters of Miyakojima and finally Tokyo’s megacity

Hi everyone,

I have to admit, I really hesitated before deciding to write this travel journal... Writing one takes a lot of time and energy, and since this is my 4th trip, I wondered if it would even interest anyone other than myself (both for the discovery and the writing). But after a few people asked, "Are you going to write a journal?" and especially after rediscovering the joy of reading other travelers’ journals about Japan or elsewhere on this forum, I’ve decided to share my 4th installment in the Land of the Rising Sun here.

The itinerary: 27 full days, from late May to late June 2025, right in the middle of the rainy season, including:

-->13 days in Shikoku, from Kochi (Kochi Prefecture) to Matsuyama (Ehime Prefecture)



-->7 days in Miyakojima (Okinawa Prefecture)



-->7 days in Tokyo



The trip was decided on fairly last-minute again this year.

Since I regularly check flight prices to track fluctuations for this destination even without concrete plans, stumbling upon a slightly cheaper direct flight (900 €) than what I’d seen in previous months (around 1,200–1,400 € on average) for a Paris-Tokyo route with Japanese airline ANA was too tempting to resist the urge to return to this enchanting country. After much hesitation between exploring the San’in region (Matsue, Tottori, Yamaguchi) and Southern Shikoku, the decision was made—I took the plunge! The ticket is booked: Paris to Kochi with a layover in Tokyo, all with ANA, the airline I’d been dreaming of... for 1,120 € per person. Okay, it’s not cheap, but it’s better than in 2023.

Departure in 2 weeks! Now I just have to get everything ready!

Intense prep work over these next 2 weeks to:

finalize a more precise itinerary and reach an agreement—yep, because even though we both love Japan, our preferences differ slightly, and we have to choose between exploring new places or revisiting beloved spots... decide how much time to spend in each area without rushing while still exploring research places that might interest us and watch videos about Japan book accommodations: yes, it’s possible to do this on the spot, but last year, we realized that last-minute options were pretty expensive, so we’re booking ahead—though we’ll keep a few options open in case better deals pop up later reserve rental cars order yen check the weather regularly and wonder if choosing the *tsuyu* (rainy season) was really a good idea—are we going to be drenched the whole time???

"What hard work," you might say! Going to Japan for a month—what a tough life! Despite this being my 4th trip, the excitement is just as intense as the first time.

The only small downside is that when we booked the flight, there weren’t many seats left, so we’re only sitting together on the international return flight. Plus, on the way there, we have middle seats. Another lingering question: what French-language films will be available? According to the internet, the selection seems limited. Oh well, these are just minor details—it’s already time to fly! PS: I’ll be posting slowly and irregularly... so for those interested, be patient, and maybe set an alert...

Hi everyone,

This month’s contest theme is WOOD. Wood as a plant material—roots, trunks, branches that make up a tree. Dead or alive, splinters and knots. Sawdust too. Firewood, from the woodshed to the hearth. Wood as a crafting material and all the things it can become: from a spoon to a violin, a boat to a stave church, and so much more—way too long to list! 😉

Technical details:

1. Each of you can post up to 3 photos. One photo per message, numbered 1 to 3. Along with the shot, feel free to share a few written details—location, context, anecdote, or photography technique. Photos can be submitted until Tuesday, July 22 at midnight, Milan time.

2. Voting will take place from Wednesday, July 23 at 00:00 until Tuesday, July 29 at midnight. All forum members can vote for their 3 favorite photos, listing the photographer’s name and the photo number in order of preference: 3 points for first place, 2 for second, and 1 for third.

3. Results will be announced on Wednesday, July 30 during the day. In case of a tie, the number of first-place votes will decide. Photos already featured on a podium are not eligible to compete.

The winner will have the special privilege of organizing August’s contest.

This thread is reserved for contest photos. For other wood-themed photos and general discussions, head here.











Alright, your turn! 😛

Catherine

Hi everyone,

We were offered a visit to the Renaissance by the new CFC cruise line through Croisiland. After reading all the reviews—some very harsh, others glowing—I wanted to form my own opinion without having to book a full cruise to test it out. This visit to the ship at the port of Le Havre for 49 € per person came at the perfect time, even if I’m a bit put off by having to pay for a ship tour. That’s not how it usually works with other cruise lines, as far as I know.

The Renaissance is a former Holland America Line ship, built in 1993 and renovated in 2023. We’re familiar with this style of ship since we took a long cruise in Polynesia in 2014 on one of its sister ships, the MS Statendam. We remember it as a charming small ship with a lovely pool terrace at the very back.

Off we went this morning for a relaxing day on a ship—always a nice change!

The Pont de Normandie is the last elegant structure you see before entering the vast and rather smelly port area of Le Havre.



The area around the port where the Renaissance is docked is total chaos—cars everywhere and only a handful of taxis. We were supposed to have a reserved parking spot in front of the terminal (we’d even given them our car model and license plate), but we were denied entry. There’s no paved public parking, so we left the car on a vacant lot.



CFC was officially acquired by the British cruise line Ambassador Cruise Line in January 2025. Ambassador Cruise Line, launched in 2010, already owns two ships of the same type and age. They wasted no time repainting the funnel in their new colors.



The line of passengers disembarking and waiting for taxis is endless... and taxis are trickling in. Is this the aftermath of yesterday’s strike, or is this the norm in this port? Either way, I feel bad for the poor travelers waiting—it’s going to be a long haul. Many are leaving on foot, dragging their suitcases. Compared to the port of Marseille, this is pretty dismal.



Forty spots were available for this visit organized by Croisiland, but we ran into a good hundred people at the meet-up. A group from the AVF (Accueil des Villes Françaises) of Le Havre will be joining us. Our Croisiland group consists of twelve people, if I counted right.

Security clearance is done alphabetically, and we quickly board the ship. Now we’re getting to the heart of the matter.

To be continued...

Hey fellow travelers,

I'm back in the "travel journal" section to share our 15-day adventure in Kenya in November 2024. It was pretty much our first time in East Africa (since Zanzibar doesn’t really count 😜).

As usual, I’m sharing the journal I made for our loved ones—still as casual and cheerful as ever, just to give them a little break from their tough workdays 😄.

We organized the whole trip ourselves, and to be original here LOL, we took some *very* well-trodden paths: Naivasha, Tsavo, and Diani. But what I loved about this country is that it’s so easy to go off the beaten track—even on the "tourist highways" 😉.

So, if you're a safari fanatic or after stunning wildlife photos, you might be disappointed. But if you want to discover other sides of Kenya, you might just find what you're looking for 😉.

Looking forward to sharing this fun journey with you all 😊.

Another fresh travel journal!

The context: For my 60th birthday, I had planned to take my family (kids + partners) for a week in Gran Canaria, at an all-inclusive hotel, but with the firm intention of exploring and hiking. The deal was to meet up at least in the evenings to spend time together, if my pace didn’t suit them. Personally, I’m not into beaches and lazing around, but my daughter-in-law is pretty cool. We were going to be together, do what we liked, and all would be well. Unfortunately, five days before departure, my mother-in-law passed away, and of course, we had to cancel everything. I was able to get a refund for a lot of things, including the hotel despite missing the free cancellation deadline (really cool of them), and I got a one-year credit for the full price of the flight tickets. So, we tried to plan the same thing for my kids, but with their schedules, we couldn’t find a date. I had to find a destination served by Iberia, far enough to use up my credit. We don’t know the Caribbean, we needed sun and a bit of rest, so the Dominican Republic won out. But no way were we going to mess up by staying in an all-inclusive hotel and only visiting the island’s paradise beaches… (we’ll get back to that). So, as usual, I put together a little road trip with a rental car.

Here we go!!!!

Day 1: Crossing the Atlantic Super early departure for Lyon-Saint Exupéry Airport. A 3-hour layover in Madrid (my wife’s had enough of flight delays, so I played it safe). Flight to Santo Domingo without any issues. The luggage arrived, the driver I’d booked was there, everything went smoothly. We got to our hotel in the Zona Colonial around 4 PM. Bad luck—it’s on a cute little square where there was supposed to be neighborhood activity in the evening. It’s completely under construction! Too bad! We decided to head to the Malecón, a sort of local Promenade des Anglais, except there are no English people. It’s nice, safe, spacious, and by the ocean. We walked for a while, and as happy hour rolled around, I started my training as an intern in rum-based cocktails. A mojito, classic, but it’s amazing to be sipping the drink in the warmth, right by the big blue. On the way back to the hotel, we grabbed some bananas, ate them in the room, and then bedtime.

The plus: We actually left! The minus: There isn’t one

Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner. We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.

I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...

Here’s the classic route we took:

We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima. The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night). For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person). We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express). Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives. After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport. It turned out to be super useful! After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening. Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory). Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).

Alright, this year, we're heading back to South America!

The initial plan was to retrace the route we imagined in the summer of 2020: a trip to northern Argentina starting from Córdoba.

Unfortunately, the flight to Córdoba no longer exists, and airfares to Javier Milei’s country are both outrageously priced and involve multiple layovers.

So, I tweaked Google Flights every which way and finally found a flight within my budget—departing from Clermont-Ferrand!

Not to Argentina, though...

Our transatlantic flight will cross the snow-capped Andes, landing in Santiago, Chile, with a return from Lima!

In between, two domestic flights and a big road trip loop starting from the coastal city of Arica to explore the treasures of northern Chile.

Our mode of transport: a pseudo 4x4 that won’t take us through sand dunes or devilish tracks but will let us tackle the entire secondary network, including unpaved main roads, while still being insured.

Is the suitcase packed with all-season clothes?

Are the driver’s license and passport ready?

Bank cards and a few euros too?

Off we go for just over 3 weeks of southern wanderings!



--/--

To keep all my esteemed readers on track, here are a few maps outlining the Arica-Arica loop!

1- From Arica to San Pedro de Atacama via Pica and the Salar de Huasco

2- Around San Pedro



3- From San Pedro to Cariquima



4- From Cariquima to Putre



5 - From Putre to Arica



Gas stations in this part of Chile are located in Arica, Iquique, Pozo Almonte, Pica, Calama, and San Pedro de Atacama.

Slovenia was the originally planned destination for summer 2022, as a complement to a road trip through Croatia and Montenegro. Plans changed on a whim in February of that year. Our Balkans road trip would ultimately be limited to Slovenia and take place over 10 days during the Easter school holidays. Flight tickets and car rental were booked right away; all that was left was to finalize our itinerary, already sketched out, and the accommodation reservations.

I decided to add Plitvice Lakes in Croatia to our program. I really wanted to discover them, and for my husband, it was a chance to revisit them several years after a trip to Yugoslavia when he was a teenager.

I’m happy to contribute to the reopening of our forum by posting this travel journal (originally posted in 2022 on another forum, the text has been partially revised and photos added). As usual, a few photos to start with—maybe they’ll inspire you to join in!

Hi everyone,

What a joy to be back here and pick up where we left off after all these months of hiatus.

I hope you’ll enjoy the story of this little trip around the Eastern Mediterranean. This cruise was the perfect way to satisfy our longing to return to Greece and Istanbul. The end of the season, until late November, is the best time to visit the Mediterranean in my opinion—when climate disruptions don’t get in the way.

Departing from Trieste, our stops were Katakolon, Piraeus, Kusadasi, Istanbul, Corfu, and Bari, before returning to Trieste and then Venice, where we planned a very short 24-hour stay.

We left home at 6:15 AM—our first cruise departure since moving to Normandy. What I miss most about living in the Gard is how close we were to Marseille Airport. No more hopping over to Marignane in an hour; now we have to plan for a three-hour trip to CDG, even under the best conditions on an early Sunday morning.

It was impossible to book a hotel night before our flight because, starting in April, the Ibis was priced at 450 € per night, and the Mercure was flirting with 800 €—breakfast not included, of course. 😏

I had a feeling there must’ve been a conference or something going on… Turns out, it was just the auto show. They simply adjusted the room prices to match the cost of the cars. 😛

Our flight took us to Venice, where we caught a FlixBus to Trieste. We arrived at Trieste’s train station in the afternoon and walked to our hotel in the city center.

After treating ourselves to an amazing pizza at a restaurant (Di Napoli Maestri Pizzaioli, Via Armando Diaz 10) for a very reasonable price, we enjoyed the mild evening temperature while exploring the stunning buildings of this charming city by night. These magnificent structures are a testament to the city’s past. Trieste became Austrian in 1382 due to its complicated relationship with Venice, and it wasn’t until 1918, at the end of World War I, that it became Italian again. The city’s lighting beautifully highlights the architecture of the buildings.

The terraces were lively, and the atmosphere was so warm and inviting that we wanted to stay out even longer.



But we’d been up since 4 AM, so we were happy to retreat to the quiet of our hotel, located in the pedestrian center just a few steps from the port (Urban Hotel Design—highly recommended).

More to come soon.

hi there After covering thousands of kilometers over the years with front and rear panniers, I’m now facing a problem: broken spokes on the rear wheel. Once, twice—imagine the hassle of fixing it when you're in the middle of nowhere in the Cévennes! So, drastic times call for drastic measures! I switched to a reinforced wheel and, following my bike mechanic’s advice, fitted a tire that’s a "tad" wider than the front one.

We set off on our summer adventure feeling confident, and guess what—"BAM"—a broken spoke after just 200 km. Seriously?! Not even that heavily loaded—just around 30 kg, plus my 80 kg. Even with the sturdier wheel, I still ended up with a broken spoke after 300 km! Back to the bike mechanic, and the only explanation: "It’s your pedaling style..." Not convinced at all! So here’s the idea: a Bob trailer! I’m done with this sword of Damocles hanging over my head—it’s a real buzzkill. Has anyone here tried a Bob trailer? Could you share your experiences—pros, cons, etc.? Thanks!!!

Hello,

In these post-COVID years, South Africa (SA) has drawn me back again... The long-time forum members will say I'm a bit obsessed (I've now surpassed 20 trips to this country, including 2 in Namibia)... But new readers can find my old travel journals and enjoy this new installment. So, three new trips... each lasting a month... always too short. I’ll try to be pragmatic.

Let’s start with the basics! You can plan your trip from your couch with complete peace of mind. Through any Booking site or directly (sometimes cheaper), I’ve never had any issues with my direct bookings—they’ve always matched what was promised. For national parks outside KwaZulu-Natal (where it’s KZN Wildlife), use the SANparks website, or Nature Reserve for that type of "accommodation." Air France, Lufthansa, or KLM... depending on the year and circumstances. Most flights are overnight, allowing you to arrive early in Joburg and... leave this city I don’t much like as quickly as possible. KLM offers a daytime flight to Cape Town... just arrange your first night’s stay. You drive on the left in SA (you knew that, right?)... you get used to it. Passport: must still be valid for 6 months with several blank pages... Car rental? A car is pretty much essential, whether for short or long trips. It’s safer too. Aside from the secure Gautrain in Joburg and Cape Town (CT from now on), I don’t take the train. Except for the red bus drop-off/pick-up in CT, I don’t take the bus. In this specific case, it’s practical because you can access all of CT’s spots—including the famous Lion’s Head—without worrying about parking or traffic. These past three years, I’ve chosen Around About Cars as my rental company. I’m very satisfied with them. What kind of car? It depends on what you’re doing and your budget. The vast majority of roads don’t require a special vehicle. In a park, the "high ground clearance" of SUVs lets you see animals better and helps avoid potholes (the SA version—ostrich-sized), speed bumps (our "sleeping policemen" with a big belly), and tackle the last few kilometers or 100 meters that can be a bit rough with complete peace of mind. Do your research. For me, it’s 4x2 or 4x4 depending on... South Africans drive fast... and I feel safer that way. International driver’s permit? Legally required! Never asked for by a rental company, only once by the police—but I stood my ground, confident, and it went smoothly. Road checks? Yes, often—at least two every time, but they’re relaxed... Note that if a police officer wants to give you a fine, it must be done at the police station—insist on going there... they’ll usually drop it. If they suggest paying on the spot in cash to "make things easier"... it’s just for their pocket. There’s a special "police alert" number—remind them of it! The rand is the South African currency. Nowadays, cards work in many places. But note: a car rental company will ask for a credit card, not a debit card. Be careful: cash is no longer accepted in SANparks camps and other places (entrances, etc.)! It’s card only! I always carry some cash. I order it from Yeschange (sounds dodgy, but it’s very reliable). Phew... What an introduction!