Inca Trail : choosing the right company

The Inca Trail is one of the main attractions in Peru. This mythic trail leads to Machu Picchu, but it is impossible to go alone and it is important to book with a good company.

First thing to know is that you need a permit to get on the trail. On the 500 available each day, 200 are for tourists. The others are for the porters, who will carry the camping material and the food.

For the high season, it is advised to book way in advance. In my case, I booked one and a half month prior to my trip for a trek in November, and we almost took the last permits.

There are a lot of companies that can lead you on the way. You have to determine the size of the group you want and the type of experience you wish to have.

The price will start around 550 $ and can easily go up to 2000 $ depending on what you want. Some will include the sleeping bag, the mattress and the porters services. Walking sticks might be included or not. In most cases, you'll need to pay some fees for each of these items.

The choice of the company is important too for your safety. If you get altitude sickness, which is rare, it will be reassuring to know your guide carries oxygen.

Most of the groups can go up to 16 persons. My company, Wayki Trek, said it wouldn't go higher than 8, which they respected for us.

They also offered to spend one night in the porters' village, in Huayllacoccha. This offer was free and totally worth it. When you get the chance to see how locals live, you shouldn't pass on it.

The food is also included in the trek and, at least in our case, is excellent. I'll say more later about that.

For a complete list of all the companies offering the trek, click on this link.

If there is no permit available for the Inca Trail, don't give up. There are numerous treks leading to the Machu Picchu. Most of them go through Salkantay.

The altitude... in Cusco

After coming back from the Colca Canyon, we had a couple of hours to kill in Arequipa. Just enough time to reorganize our luggage and to go back in the old town for a stroll.


When it was time to catch the bus to Cusco, we decided to flag a taxi on the street. Not an easy task, especially when you're three travelers with huge backpacks. The tiny taxi that stopped for us didn't have a lot of free space. Have to say it, we were tight in there.

Taxi driver trick in Peru : it costs two soles to get into the bus station parking. The drivers will make you pay when he drops you there... and when he picks you there. Meaning he'll get four soles for going in... We just got down from the taxi outside of the parking, but I suspect he put it in the price anyway...

The way to Cusco was the roughest one since our driver thought he was from a Fast and furious movie. The three of us had given a little bit of loose in our seatbelts so we could move on our side during the night. When we encountered a bump in the road and jumped in the air, we all tightened our seatbelts at once.

Well and alive, we got to Cusco very early so we checked in our hostel. After a while, we went out to explore.

Cusco is a very touristic city. One is stopped every now and then to be offered a guided tour, a massage or some discounts in different restaurants. The word "no" is heard in all corners.


The city has a lot of hills, which tested our sore muscles pretty fast. Ouch! One step. Ouch! Another step. This is without talking about the altitude, which kept me out of breath most of the times.

We climbed up all the way to the ruins of Sacsayhuaman (pronounced "sexy woman") just to decide it was too expensive for us. On our way, there was a very persistant man who wanted to clean and repair my shoes, saying it wouldn't be impossible to climb the Machu Picchu if I left them that way. Had to decline four or five times. Just know, Mister, that I might have a diffrent pair of shoes for the expedition on Machu Picchu.

We stopped on some sort of terrace to take pictures. Two women were trying to convince tourists to pay in exchange of a picture of them with their alpaca. While we were using the timer of our cameras to take a picture of the three of us, one of those women, talking to herself in a very weird way, stopped just between us and the cameras. We still have to figure out if she did it on purpose or if she had a couple of loose screws.

After that, we ended up at Jack's Cafe, an american restaurant with huge meals. There is almost always a line at the door to get in. We were lucky enough to get the last table before the line started to grow. For those who have a sweet tooth, the brownie is really something. Just saying!

Walking on different routes, visiting some cheaper ruins while almost falling asleep, hammered by the altitude, we finally went back to the hostel. We even decided to eat there because the food on the menu looked good.

Also, it was the Ladie's night with free shooters for girls... or those who dress like girls. Since we didn't need shooters, we went for beers... Still, we got free shooters. Wondering what it means...

In the end, we were really disciplined. It didn't take long, though, to discover it is not advised to eat chocolate (brownie) and drink alcohol (beer) when you're still not used to the altitude. I'm not the one saying it. It is proven. Headaches, agitated sleep and nausea were unavoidable.

Only cure : sleep and a lot of water. At least three litres a day.

The Colca Canyon

They say visiting Arequipa without stopping at Colca Canyon is like going to Cusco without visiting Machu Picchu. In other words, it's a no-no!

Many options are available for the curious ones going to the canyon, generally excursions of one, two or three days. The ideal choice for us seemed obvious, particularly since we didn't have a lot of time : two days. We booked with Peru Schweiz Explorer, the company recommended at our hostel.

The one day trip includes breakfast, watching the condors fly, if you can spot one, a look at the canyon from the top of it, and, on the way back, a pit stop at a buffet and at thermal baths.

The two days one allows all of that but also makes you walk down the canyon. Those who choose the three days trip will only go down slower...


***

Our shuttle picked us up at 3:30 AM. Squeezed for hours, we couldn't sleep too much before breakfast, which was mainly composed of empty bread.


We then had about 30 minutes to watch the condors. Strangers all get in a group on the side of the cliff hoping to see the birds on the horizon. It was only a couple of minutes before we left that we saw one fly for a few seconds. Just enough time to take a picture.


In the dust of the village of Cabanaconde, we touched ground for a long walk of 18,4 km going down. That's the beauty of a canyon, right? We go down forever, and after, one needs to go back up.

Anyway, we had dinner in the middle of nowhere before starting to walk again, encountering an improvised soccer field and walking down to Tapay Oasis, where we would spend the night. No cars, almost no electricity, just calmness. Ah! And basic toilets too.


From there, on the next day, we had to go back up. The day began at 5 AM. Slow people had to start earlier or to hire a mule. Breakfast? After the climb. Hard when you're not used to the altitude and you need to reach a peak at almost 4000 m. One needs to stop often, follow the rythmn of their breath, and breath again when the guide says : "already tired?". Here, the most shocking word is "already". Especially when there is about one more hour to go.

Once back at the top, one needs to walk again to the small village of Cabanaconde to earn their meal.

After, other than the stop at the thermal baths, which was very appreciated by our sore muscles, there was not one hole in the road that would have stopped us from sleeping. Efforts and lack of sleep made us very tired. Well deserved sleep.

Here is the video of me crossing a very unstable bridge (bringing us to the thermal baths). I had to stop filming to find my balance again.

Arequipa's altitude

Arequipa

I spent a little more than 15 hours on the Cruz del Sur bus to Arequipa. If I could access wi-fi in the bus, as long as there was cell phone reception, it was strangely easier to get online in the middle of nowhere than in the cities themselves. It was also the first chance I had to taste Inka Cola, a soft drink with bubble gum taste. Hmmm!

I was very excited to get to Arequipa because that was where I was meeting my friend Peter, who was coming from Huacachina. He was supposed to get there one hour before me and to wait at the bus station.

In the end, we were both late, him more than me, so we got there at the same time. We then could negociate for a taxi that would bring us to our hostel, Arequipay Backpackers. It really feels like paradise for those who expect to spend several days, which wasn't our case.

Located at about 2500 m above see level, that city is a great way to get used to the altitude. "I feel nothing", I told myself just after I got there.

But it took just a little time (and exercise) for a headache to strike. That is one of the signs of altitude sickness... and fatigue of course.

So we only walked in the old town, where a homeless man begged us several times. We then went on the walking street where tourists can enjoy themselves in western-like restaurants like McDonald's, KFC and Starbucks.

We still walked further to find a vegetarian restaurant, very small but packed with locals, where we had a three course meal for seven soles (2,50 $). There was so much food we couldn't eat it all.

The more the day was going, the harder it got to combine altitude and fatigue. So we slowed down while deciding on a two days trek in the Colca Canyon for the next day. We had to wake up at 3 in the night to go there. So we ate again before going back to the hostel to pack for the trekking awaiting.

Buses in Peru

On the road to Arequipa.

The tourists traditionnaly use two means of transportation in Peru. The domestic flights are usually cheap and can help you go from a city to another that is far, like from Lima to Cusco, in a really short time.

For the others, the bus is still the cheapest way. For longer runs, one can travel by night, saving on a hostel and on one or two meals, because they are usually included.

The most famous company is Cruz del Sur. It is the one with the best comments from tourists across the internet. More expensive, they offer good comfort and good security. All the luggages are checked-in and safely placed under the bus. Meals are good enough and they even make you play Bingo on the road. It is possible to book online.

I went from Lima to Arequipa (for around 150 soles) with this company without having anything bad to say about it. It is possible to recline the seats to make comfortable enough beds. Only thing was we got to our destination a little bit late.

Another popular company is Oltursa. A little cheaper, it offers different types of seats, between half a bed and a regular seat which is impossible to recline. Luggages are also checked-in.

Friends who used it encountered big delays. I, for one, tested Oltursa from Arequipa to Cusco (100 soles) after having bought my ticket online. If we got to our destination on time, it is only because of the hectic driving of our driver. He was going very fast and abruptly from left to right, which woke us up a couple of times. Food wasn't that great either.

The comments I gathered about other companies, and the one I could find online, are mostly negative. Theft, fraud, dangerous driving have all been mentionned. One must know the cheapest companies tend to hire the worst drivers because they don't pay them well.

In the end, my adventure on board of a Tour Peru bus went well between Cusco and Copacabana (90 soles) in Bolivia. They took care of everything at the border. The only problem was one of us couldn't buckle his seatbelt because it was broken. There was no service on board.

So before chosing, with security in mind, it is important to read the comments online and to get informed. The lowest price is not always the best option.

Being late in Lima

Sorry for the time I took to update the blog. The internet, very slow in Peru and Bolivia, didn't allow me to open the page to post updates.

***

The first day in Peru went very fast. After my flight being delayed in the airport and a short night, I only had a little time to explore Lima. In the evening, I had to catch the bus I booked to Arequipa.

Having decided to meet with my friend Diego, a Peruvian I met in Cambodia last year, I only had two hours to explore by myself.

So I took the Metropolitano, the most efficient public transportation in the capital, to get in the old downtown.

The Metropolitano is a bus system that works exactly like a metro. It has its own lanes on the highway or on regular streets. Stations have been built for each stop with automated gates. And one uses an electronic card they can recharge to pay like in many other public transportation.

Then I made it in the old part of town, where I went from a park to another until I got, around noon, to the change of the guard in front of the national palace. On popular songs, the guards start a long walk that impresses tourists. Security guards make sure the street vendors are not annoying the tourists during the ceremony. That is the place where one can see fully dressed dogs.

A few minutes later, I tried to make my way back to the hostel. I didn't notice the Metropolitano stations could be confusing because some of them allow you to go only in one direction. I made the mistake of choosing the wrong direction after having paid. Problem was I didn't have change to recharge my card.

After going around in a circle, I decided to buy a bottle of juice with a bill of 50 soles so I could get a little bit of change. A ticket for the bus costs 2 soles.

With all of these adventures, I came late to my meeting with Diego. By at least 30 minutes. It must be Lima.

From there, we explored Miraflores, hate a ceviche and some raviolis with peruvian sauce in a good restaurant. Still, some women hearing us speak english couldn't keep from begging for some money. We then reached the coast, under the very grey clouds, before going back to the hostel so I made sure to catch my bus to Arequipa.

That means I visited Lima very fast. It seems like a city that has nothing too impressive. My few hours in the capital went well, the opposite of what my friends experienced. In an alley in Barranco, they got mugged with a gun and a knife for their camera. At the police station, to fill a report, they had to pay some "fees". Not sure it is totally legal to ask for those fees. Anyway, one has to be careful in Lima's streets.

In the end, the driver that was bringing me to the bus station had to work very hard to get to my destination since most of the streets were in construction. Each time he was putting the flasher on, he had to change his mind because the streets were blocked. Something to work on our patience.

Waiting in Lima

Lima, Peru

What would a trip be without some small problems to add some flavor?

Like I wrote in my last post, I left for Lima in Peru. My flight was leaving around 6 AM, so I left home around 1:30. The beauty of that is the roads are not busy at this time of the night. And what about all those construction sites on the road around Montreal... Way better to drive by them by night.

The flight to Miami went very well. Got there a little before 10 AM. Asked myself if it would be better to leave the airport to stay busy for the five hours I had to wait. I decided not to go out.

That's where the problem was. I needed to worry about the fact my flight disappeared from the departure board to figure out my flight was delayed for four more hours. Tadam! Thanks Taca Airlines.

But don't worry for me. In exchange, they gave me a voucher for a free meal... as long as it doesn't cost more than 12 $, which is the price of a bottle of water and a smile in a regular airport. I could only spend that money in McDonald's, a pizza restaurant or a grilled chicken one. At least there was one "healthy" choice.

Other problem. The price of the bill went up to an outstanding amount of... 12,06 $. Yes, you guessed it right, I had to pay the six cents. After all, five hours (well, it got delayed again) of waiting is well worth a big 12 $ when you paid more than a 1000 $ for your flight.

So I had to cancel my evening with my friend Diego, a real Peruvian, who would have met me in Lima if I had gotten there at a decent time. I also had to call my hostel to make sure they would know I would be late and for the shuttle to wait for me at the airport.

A movie and some frustrations later, we could board the plane. Original arrival time : 8:45 PM. Actual arrival time, after passport control : 3 AM.

Yes, the shuttle was still waiting. Poor driver. And everything points out his parking ticket was past due.

Karma, o karma, I finally got my own room in the hostel. Thinking of those who were sleeping in the other rooms, the woman at the desk gave me my own room. I've got your number now Karma!

The first stories about Lima will come soon. Only observation : the roads are in pretty bad shape. And for those who think they can't plan the road work well in Canada, think again. Half of the streets are blocked in Lima because of construction. Hard to navigate... When one compares himself...

On my way to Lima

I'm now on my way to Peru. I took off very early in the morning and I'm now working on my patience in Miami airport.

Tonight, I will be in Lima before heading to Arequipa tomorrow night.

In a week, I'll start walking up to the Machu Picchu.

More news to come if wi-fi allows it.

I'm not forgetting that I'm very very late in the news concerning Amsterdam. I'll come to it at some point.

The Indian visa, end of the story

Celebrations!

The envelope was waiting, patiently, in the mailbox, right next to the door. The priority mail could mean just one thing. The Indian visa!

So my passport came back, with the Indian visa in it, in the imparted time. Only problem : it will have cost me twice the price and two trips to Ottawa instead of one. Other problem, since I now have a journalist visa in my passport, I won't be able to stay vague about my job when I'll cross borders everywhere else. Lesson learned.

Other lesson : double check every information before sending the visa request.

Buying the flight

Before I change my mind, I bought the flight that will have me landing in New Delhi on January 5th.

For that, I noticed the price of the flight was 400 $ higher in just one month. 100 $ more than the week before. And that is for the cheapest one. Not necessarily the one I wanted.

I searched on flights comparators I didn't know about, like momondo.com and google.com/flights (no, I hadn't realized  Google had started comparing flights). I also tried on the usual websites like Expedia.ca or priceline.com.

Results were not convincing for the length of the flights, the number of stops or the arrival time. I was about to give up when I took a last chance. I've already written it, flight comparators are not all comparing the price for the same companies. That is when I found a flight on Emirates, a company well known for the quality of service. A company I didn't get the chance to fly on yet.

Before booking, I checked on Emirates website itself... where the same flight was cheaper. Economies : 120 $.

Other than the website problems which delayed my booking for 24 hours, I was done with the problems. At least I hope so. Direction India as soon as the new year starts : visa and flight in hand.

Nomination

A simple word to ask you to vote for me at the MIB Awards. My blog is nominated.

The Indian visa saga

The ones who are used to my blog already know I don't like to ask for visas. Always complicated, lots of forms to fill, always that feeling I gave the wrong answers.

Yes, I understand why. It's only that I don't have any other intention than visiting, than feeling the countries culture. If everybody was planning on doing the same, we wouldn't need a visa.

I stressed to get the Chinese visa. I almost had urticaria for the Brazilian visa. I had to work hard to get the Cuban visa.

And the adventures keep on coming for the Indian visa. Because I decided to leave for a month in January, I wanted to get a lead to be one step ahead. The flights are cheaper when bought several months ahead. But to book a flight, one must be sure they will be able to leave.

So I went for a tourist visa. I filled the form online, checked each information at least three times and drove to Ottawa to hand my application directly. If there is a problem, they will tell me.

At BLS office, the agency that will take care of the application, one can only pay cash or with debit. It will take seven to ten days, I'm told, before the visa is ready.

"If I wrote I'm a journalist, will there be any problem?" I ask.

Stop. Smarter people will say I should avoid talking about my job. I chose honesty... Just to see. End of the pause.

"No problem. Since you're asking for a tourist visa, there will be no problem" I'm told.

Loud buzzer telling me it's wrong!

Got a call, two weeks later, telling me my request was denied. Tourist or not, I need a journalist visa. The difference? The price, higher, and the length of stay, shorter.

The call center being unable to answer all my questions, I went back to Ottawa to hand a second request, which is still in treatment.

They gave me excuses, but no discount. I had to pay again, even if I had asked all the questions the first time and they gave me the wrong answers. I told them they should put the right information on their website. They said they would make the corrections. Nothing has changed to this day.

In the mean time, I hear a lot of bad stories from visa applicants... I prefer having faith. The decision should come before the end of the week.

But if India doesn't want me, I'll go somewhere else...

A word about Peru

I reached a decision! In just about a month, I'll hit the road again. Finally!

So I'll leave for Peru, where I plan, of course, to see the famous Machu Picchu. I should then stop in Lima, Arequipa and Cuzco before a pause near Lake Titicaca. I will then continue on to La Paz, Bolivia, where I'll board the plane home.

Small information point about Machu Picchu, which one can reach in many different ways. The most famous one for trekkers probably is the Inca Trail, known to be one of the five most beautiful treks in the world. The trails goes past some Inca ruins. It reaches an altitude of 4200 meters, which can bring altitude sickness.

There are other treks since there are many other ways to reach the summit. We decided to try our luck at the Inca Trail itself. For that, it is necessary to book a long time ahead, especially in high season. Only 500 people can walk the trail each day, 200 of them being tourists. The other 300 permits are solely for guides and porters.

To know if permits are available for a specific day, look on that website.

Whatever the length of the trek is, it is mandatory to get a permit only for the first day of the trek. The permits can't be exchanged, transferred or refunded. They are linked to the passport number. And you can get it through an agency.

In the many agencies, we chose Wayki Trek. This company offers to spend the night before the trek with our guide's family. We're thinking about it.

The complete list of all the companies offering the treks is available here.

With my new trekking shoes, I'm already training for the Inca Trail.

Modern Arts and Turkish Bath

Since I don't have a picture of the baths, here is one in
front of the Modern Arts Museum

Before leaving Istanbul, it seems like it is absolutely forbidden to miss the Modern Arts Museum.

Located on the shore of the Golden Horn, the museum offers a huge and interesting collection. Even though I'm not too attracted to modern arts, I got swayed. The masterpieces are really fascinating and impressive.

So as a traveler who doesn't really enjoy museums, I can say I recommend it.

The most interesting experience, though, was the Turkish bath, also called hamam. We chose the Çemberlitas Hamami, located in a building dating from 1584, from all of those suggested in the guidebooks.

At the desk, we needed to choose the type of treatment we wanted. Since our flights were leaving in the afternoon, we went for the fifteen minutes session. It would have been possible to add a massage for additional fees.

We were given a little box and a token, which we used to get in the baths. But first, we needed to go on the second floor to change. Changing being a big word. The task here was about taking all our clothes off and to cover ourselves with a towel. We then put sandals on and locked the door behind us.

In the hamam itself, we were shown we needed to lay down on a big circle rock. A very hot rock used to make us sweat. The heat was perfectly intense. But be careful : they don't like that you keep your sandals on when you lay down. Good to know.

A masseur, looking like the stereotype of the Turkish masseur, eventually appears. Mine literally grabbed me by the feet to get me where I needed to be. I must admit it's pretty funny when you see that happening to others.

He then put the massage glove on, the one that was in the box we got when we paid, and he starts scrubbing us. He throws hot water at us, still does a small massage and brings us in another room for a shampoo session.

The masseurs, all wearing a number, then wait next to the exit, hoping for some tip. "Remember my number", they tell us when we leave. The man handling the towels also hopes for some tip...

The experience is totally worth it, whatever preconceived ideas we might have about hamams. I can tell I was weak in the knees when I got on the metro to go to the airport. And I was sad to leave Turkey after that short week in that country.

Pictures of Istanbul

To take a break, here are a couple of pictures of Istanbul.

Detour by Taksim Square

Istanbul University

It smells like the end of a journey in Turkey. But still have another warm day to visit the Beyazit mosque before getting on Istanbul University's campus.

There, we couldn't get too close because of security controls. We gave up and went around the building. What was surprising was the outside stand to sell school supplies...

We visited another mosque before going back down to our hostel, where we would meet our new friend. Together, we walked towards Taksim Square, where most protest against prime minister Erdogan took place. We were told it would be safer to go during the day.

We crossed Galata bridge and walked up slowly along a walking street. We then stopped at a restaurant. The closer Taksim Square was, the bigger the crowd was, even if there was no violent activity.

Everywhere around Taksim Square were police officers. Water canons were aligned so they wouldn't block the traffic. Already, it felt like walking on eggs. Not the time to be extravagant. We needed to blend in the crowd.

We got closer to Gezi park, where there was already some construction work being done. Police officers were watching the entrance, so it was intimidating to take pictures.

We walked on the square itself and took the time to chat with the protesters, most of them being silent, standing without moving.

There were abandoned shoes to symbolize the people who got hurt or killed in the protests. Others were blindfolded, holding a balance to illustrate justice.

We were told about the death of a protester, how friends and family we staying on Taksim Square to pay tribute to him. We pretended to agree with our translator, who said protesters were just people searching for a fight. Was better not to contradict anybody, to listen and avoid stating an opinion.

We suspected some policemen were going around dressed as tourists or civilians. They were always close to us and made two young girls leave the square.

After a long conversation, we determined it was time to leave. Around Taksim Square, my North American head wasn't pleasing the water vendors, who were trying to get more money out of me. It took me four or five attempts to get a reasonable price.

We went back down through new streets to end up in front of protesters going up to the square. They were done working. They were walking together, shouting some slogans. Intimidating.

After hesitating about following them or not, we decided to go back to our hostel... where other travelers were already talking about going out at night.

There again, we hesitated. Pressure was strong. In a group, we negotiated for two cabs so we could go in Beyoglu. In the dark, the landscape had changed. People were running, their mouth and eyes were covered. Others were selling diving masks...

We got to the bar, where we needed to climb six, seven or eight levels to reach the last floor. The view was very nice. Big windows were covering three of the walls. Strangely, there were not a lot of people partying.

We had just started drinking our bear when we passed our heads through the window to look outside. The crowd was running in the streets. Slowly, my eyes started to burn. The tear gaz was going up and up and up. Even if we closed the windows, it was too late. The few people inside rushed to the stairs.

Eyes, throat, lungs were burning. With a little water in the face, between two floors, we were getting better and decided to leave immediately.

We jumped in a taxi, between a line of police officers on one sidewalk, and a line of protesters on the other sidewalk. On the way back, we crossed a taxi with its doors wide open. Men were hitting on the passengers. No time to understand what was happening. We kept on going.

The night before we left Turkey, we had quite a dose of emotions.

In French, here is the article I wrote  for La Tribune and La Nouvelle newspapers as I was still in Turkey. I'm telling about the events I lived there.

Where to go next?

I'm still far from done on telling my stories about Turkey. Still have all the Netherlands to tell about. Procrastination, when you lead us... But fear nothing, it's not stopping me from dreaming and from planning the next trip.

There will be a first adventure this fall. Still have to choose where. Peru and Bolivia have a head start. I'll have to make a decision between the two, or change my mind just before booking, like I often do. Since it'll be winter in the northern hemisphere, I'm pretty sure I'll get close to the equator anyway.

The biggest step ahead, nonetheless, will come in January. I've been talking about that for more than a year. I started working on it... Everything points out at a landing in New Delhi around January 6. India! Yes, it brings a little vertigo. But I need to push myself. That's where I need to go.

To get there, one needs a visa before taking off. Usually valid for six months, it's validity starts right at the moment you get it. So you need to calculate your time wisely.

My picture has already been taken and I filled the form on the website at this address
: https://indianvisaonline.gov.in/visa/

There you'll find an answer to all your questions.

What will my itinerary be? Don't know. Will certainly have the time to tell you more about that. Adventure is just starting.

Shopping break

Short digression from the adventures to talk shopping.

We almost missed the little Aponia shop and Supermind Coffee as we were walking back from a stroll in Taksim square in Istanbul.

It's because a group of screaming protesters had just passed us. But my traveling buddies are coffee lovers and they also wanted to look at some t-shirts. So we took a little break


What is amazing about this place is you find a counter right next to the door. There, according to the owner, they serve "decent coffee". If you go further in the shop, you'll find some t-shirts and posters designed but Istanbul artists. Everything is made in Turkey.

We stopped to smile while appreciating the catchy designs. They are unpretentious. And because it was cheaper for each t-shirt if we bought two or three, we were very tempted.

We smiled reading "They call it chaos, we call it home", a joke about Istanbul. What about that animal claiming "Love is my leash" or those soldiers shadows, some with guns, some with umbrellas. I was particularly touched by that one with the word "Life". I didn't get it at first, until I could see those two little batteries with the words "Fear" and "Hope"... meaning fear and hope are the power of life. I bought it!

When I went to pay, I could talk with the owner himself. The paper bag in which they put the t-shirts are made to become posters too.

That lovely shop deserved a post to itself.

For those visiting Istanbul, you'll find Aponia shop at
101 A Galipdede
or
116 Istiklal Avenue

You can also visit facebook.com/aponiastore

A stop at the Grand Bazaar

Grand Bazaar

If there is a place you can't miss in Istanbul, apart from the Blue Mosque, it's the Grand Bazaar. Everybody knows their clients are mostly tourists, but it's still interesting to walk through it.

First conclusion : this place is very crowded.

Second conclusion : one needs to negotiate a lot to get a good price. We know they are going to make a lot of money because of us, but most things can be found at different stands, so it is possible to compare the prices.

Other life lesson, after finding very high prices : if the man (most of the sellers are men) is not nice, he doesn't deserve your money. You need to at least have a little fun. If you stay nice too, it is possible to get a very good discount.

Spices, tea, candies, scarves, wallets, chess games, toys, hookahs... you can find anything at any price.

And without a good sense of orientation, it is possible you get lost easily.

What was interesting was to get lost in the small streets behind the bazaar when we exited. The true Istanbul life, with women taking care of children in the streets, was just in front of us. It was beautiful and made us want to take our time.

In the afternoon, we finally stopped in Aya Sofia, that old mosque they converted in a museum. What you can see there is catholic images under the Muslim paintings...

We then stopped at the Blue Mosque again because we found out it was impossible to get in, for tourists, when it's prayer time. But in the community center next to it, they explain what Islam is all about... for free. Tea and sweets are also free...

We ended the night at the hostel, where they offered us fish on the barbecue... and some silly weird games to enjoy ourselves. Hostel life is also about that.

Spice Market and Galata Tower

Galata Tower

The return from Göreme went better than the way to get there. Maybe because I wasn't that sick anymore. But services were better with the Suha bus company.

By chance, a very helpful Turkish guy was sitting just behind us. Not only did he offer some cookies for us to taste, but he let us know when it was time to step down.

Back in Istanbul busy bus station, around 7 AM. Still sleepy, we were wondering how to get to our new hostel. The helpful Turkish man helped us get in a free shuttle. For those who are trying to help, know that the back door will close by itself. No need to try to close it... and have people to laugh at you.

Right in Sultahnamet, we found ourselves on the sidewalk, searching for the hostel. When you're tired, it's harder to find your way around. We searched for a while...

Talking about something that is hard, try getting a good shower on the sixth floor of an old turkish building... You may not get any water.

Anyway! We reunited with our friend Gisele and we visited the Spice Market. Colors and smells are totally worth going there. But if you want to buy anything... negociate. Harder. And if you pretend you want to buy some turkish delights, maybe they'll let you taste some...

For those who want something different, a ferry may bring you in the asian part of the town. When it's sunny, the ride on the Golden Horn is very beautiful. On the other bank, you may ride a dolmus, one of those taxis where you kind of need to know how much you should pay. And you need to ask the driver when you want to get out. Having someone else who speaks english is a big asset.

In Kadikoy, the most interesting thing to do is walk the streets, go shopping or just watch the rhythm of life. Fresh fruit juices stands are really attracting too.

Back on the quay, it is possible to get on a one hour or one and a half hour cruise on the Bosphorus. No need to book ahead. There are a lot of companies and they go almost every thirty minutes... The smarter ones will go just before night falls so they can do one way with day light and come back in the dark : the best of two worlds.

Hungry people will try the grilled fish you can find anywhere near the water for five turkish liras. Eating in one of the Galata Bridge restaurants might be expensive though.

And talking about the Galata Bridge, the tower of the same name offers great views over the city. There again, a meal at the restaurant will cost a lot. But looking around from the top of it is worth it.

A year and four continents later

Paraty, Brazil

There it is, potentially the last page of the story. I've been back from my adventures around the world for a year now. Last celebrations, maybe. Because life is like that. We count the days between us and an important event, we celebrate the first anniversary, and we forget it until a decade has gone.

One year, it goes so fast. But it's a long time too. I now talk about my trip in the past tense, like it happened centuries ago. Images are frozen, life goes on, and I hate myself for that. I still have photo albums to make, stories to tell, but time goes...

Life pushes us forward. Time does it too. And if we slow it down a little when the passport becomes the most precious thing we have, it gets its speed back once we sit behind the computer at work.

I met a friend in Japan. He is now going around the world himself. I smile for each of his pictures. I see those places I've been to, the happiness I left behind since I couldn't steal it away from those foreign lands.

It will have taken me four months to come back completely. To accept to be home. But I left again. Three times. On four continents. And I hear the call to go again, stronger day after day. I'm still convinced that one day, I'll disappear. I'll sail away, and that's it.

If there is a thing I accepted, is that people will say I'm lucky. That I shouldn't want to leave again after being on the road so much. Others, I let them talk.

I learned I should live for myself first, even if I can't do it perfectly. I learned nothing is impossible, even if I tend to forget. If i can't climb every mountain now, I allow myself to dream and to give myself the means to reach their summit one day. I accept I can't see further than tomorrow. I avoid making scenarios about what could happen. Things will happen... or not anyway. I learned to do things instead of regretting.

Yes, I hate myself for forgetting. For going back to bad habits I thought I got rid of. For stressing without good reasons. For forgetting I promised myself I wouldn't compromise. For getting mad at traffic jams. For losing patience for all those things that aren't happening fast enough. For forgetting to dream. For sinking into routine.

I hope I will never forget, and up above all this, I hope I'll go again. Often. And that the best friends in the world, I found all around the globe, will always remind me.

Despite not flying as often as I wanted, I've met again with Ross and Peter in Ottawa, Louiza in New York, Casey in Philadelphia, Uriel and Alex in California, Morti in Montreal, Janet-Lee in Québec, Kim, Marit and Erik in Amsterdam, and Julie and Philippe a few minutes from home. And it means the world to me. And there is all of those I haven't met again in person yet, who I still can reach on Skype and Facebook. Too bad for those who thought those friendships would fade away. Those people, I still miss them every day.

At least, no matter how much it cost me to travel, I now know that I'm richer because of it. And egotistically, I want to keep that fortune to myself.

Göreme bikers

Exiting Göreme, Turkey.

For those who might have a little hunger before we step into more adventures, Göreme has two advantages for greedy people : the best baklavas in the world... and almost all-you-can-drink tea.

The best baklavas I ate came from Oze Café. There was also a ton of brands of tea. And the owners were very nice.

Talking about tea, it is almost always free, after a meal, in small restaurants. It's not as true in the big expensive and elegant establishments.

That said, our second day in Cappadocia was so full. At the hostel, they recommended a touristic tour in a bus that would show us most of the attractions in the area. Smart as we are, we thought it would be easier to explore at our own rhythm by renting mopeds.

First statement : on dirt, mopeds are not stable. Second statement which would came way later : our map wasn't on scale.

Nevertheless, getting lost at our own rhythm was incomparable. At the very top of the hill we would climb to exit the village, we stopped to watch the view. To take some apricots from the trees too, like we can do everywhere around there. And to blend in the crowd of tourists in a small souvenir shop where they were trying to sell us crap at a high price.

On the uneven paving stones climbing all the way to the castle, we drove to Uçhisar. We were taking our time, since we were only leaving for Istanbul at 8 PM. We were still in the morning.

Some will say Pigeon Valley is a must. Even if there are a lot of birds there, we were not that impressed. It is more my friend's controlled loss of control we will remember. No injury here. Not even a scratch on the bike.

For at least 45 minutes after that, we rode in the back-country waiting for a place to eat. The small deserted roads, the fields, the impression to be alone in the middle of nowhere... and Turkish people looking at us weirdly like motorcycles don't get on these roads often.

In the end, we found food in Kaymakli. That small village was typically asian with its small shops all next to the others. It is apparently known for its underground city. Between the noise in the street and the calmness of the terrace where we ate, there was a complete different world. In the back of the court, old people were playing cards or chess. We were the odd ones in the landscape there.

We then left towards Derinkuyu to visit another underground city protected by the Unesco. There, with all those locals trying to talk to us in their language, we know some probably told us some bad things. But in Derinkuyu, they know what tourists want. On the road, they always point the direction of the underground city to us.

That is where stress came in. The next city on the map was Ihlara, about 50 km away. On a motorcycle... And time was flying.

We took the chance.

On our map, there was no city between Derinkuyu and Ihlara. That wasn't a mistake. While our tank was getting empty, fields kept on coming. More fields. Always fields. And mount Hasan on the horizon.

When we saw a gas station, we gladly stopped. A young boy got out of the building and screamed "No!", adding a sign with his head that left us no doubt. Our motorcycles were thirsty. The arrows were pointing towards the empty sign. Between "nowhere" and "nowhere", our best bet was to keep on driving forward. Too late to go back anyway.

When the engine started coughing, a gas station appeared like an oasis. My friend, usually very calm, just sighted of relief. No breakdown!

From there : no time to lose. At 60 km an hour, we were rushing towards Göreme.

After at least one hour on the highway, unpleasant hour I must say, hour in which my friend received a plastic bottle on his helmet, thanks to a car passenger passing him, we finally came back to our starting point.

We were one hour late from our anticipated return time. 30 minutes to get our luggage, eat, and hop on the bus that would bring us back to Istanbul. Yes, we were able to sleep after that.

Lessons here : 1) exploring by ourselves was more fun 2) mistakes and problems make better stories 3) always make sure the maps are on scale. And you should study the road you plan on taking to avoid highways on mopeds...

Radio interview

I'm very late, but here is a link to a radio interview I gave in February about this blog. It is in French, if you can understand the language...

http://www.radio-canada.ca/emissions/estrie_express/2012-2013/chronique.asp?idChronique=272764

Pictures of Göreme

A Long Walk in Gorëme

Pasabagi, Turkey

For those who wonder, there are several bus companies linking Istanbul and Göreme. All of them stop in Nevsehir, from where you need to transfer to another bus.

In some cases, it is possible to book online. We chose Nevsehir company to get there and Suha to come back. I personnaly liked the second one better. In both cases, schedules are about the same, departures being around 7 PM or 8 PM. Destination is reached about 12 hours later.

That said, when we got to Nevsehir, we were told we needed to change buses. We reunited with travelers who left 30 minutes before us the night before... In the end, they had no advantage on taking an earlier departure.

At Göreme information desk, right in the center of the village, they are used to see tourists coming. As soon as you get there, they ask for the name of your hotel so they can call them to pick you up. On our side, we chose a room at Guven Cave Hotel, where service was very good. They gave us a very good apple tea before showing us our room. Even if it was before 8 AM. Elsewhere, they probably would have asked us to wait until 11 AM or noon.

Sorry we didn't take a picture of the room... even if we let another guest get in so he could take one. We forgot to do the same.

From there, the hostel crew recommended a walk around the villages nearby. Considering it was windy and cloudy, I put jeans on. An error I would have to tolerate all day under a very bright sun.

First stop was the Göreme Open Air Museum. Most of it is churches carved in the rock, with paintings on the walls. After a while, they all looked the same.

As most tourists were going back the way they came, we kept on walking on the road to go down in Rose Valley, a walk of approximately 6 km, in a canyon, in total calmness. Bring water. Orange juice stands are spaced out. Same for the food.

At the very end of the road, we got in, Çavusin, a place I liked a lot. It feels like the middle of nowhere, in a village where a moutain where houses we carved is looming. Those were abandonned a long time ago. There is a path, from behind, to get to the very top. We didn't know! We became acrobats and climbed, floor by floor, to visit it from inside. The feeling of being somewhere else!

On our way down, we wanted to go to Pasabagi, known for its giant rock mushrooms. As the sky was getting covered again, we finally got some directions with the universal hands language. 'Cause the road wasn't well signposted.

After thinking of going back to the hotel, we finally found it. There, restaurants, souvenir shops... only things put up for strangers.

Our biggest problem was to find out transportation to go back to Göreme. If it seems like buses are going around, they stop early. We needed to negociate with a local so he would bring us back in town... Because after walking all day long, we didn't want to go all the way back on foot.

Between the mosque and the palace

The Blue mosque

The first night was short. Hard to sleep with the heath (found the clim only when I woke up in the morning) and the prayer call at 4 AM, but I managed to get a little bit of sleep.

When you visit Paris, you should see the Eiffel Tower first, right? In Istanbul, the Blue mosque is THE place to go.

In front, street vendors are waiting for tourists to sell them useless stuff or to try to get them to buy a cruise on the Bosphorus. Can't avoid it.

Inside the inner courtyard is the muslims entrance. Behind is the one for tourists. To visit, women must cover their head, shoulders, arms and legs. Men should at least cover their knees. A woman stands at the entrance to give away clothes to those who need to cover up. So there is no need to wear warm pants all day long in fear of missing out on the mosque.

From there, we went to the Cistern. Very cool (temperature wise) place under the city. Ideal for warm days.

But because the sun was still shining really hard, we went for a turkish ice cream. The real one, sour and kind of elastic. The one for which you have to go through a real show to be able to eat it. The ice cream man just tosses everything around for a while before giving the cone away.

We kept on moving to visit Topkapi palace. The harem is interesting there. Because it had many functions. And even if the view on the city is nice inside, it didn't look fun to be kept inside. At the entrance, our new travel partner found out her camera's battery was dying. But she forgot her charger at home. One less amateur photographer.

The death of cameras wouldn't stop there. Less than one hour later, while I was trying to hurry so a tourist wouldn't get in my picture, I fell and dropped my brand new camera on hard stones. Less than 24 hours after starting to use it, it was already dead. You know, when you stop smiling...

In the end, we went back to the hostel to get our luggage and got into a shuttle, which would take one hour, getting lost in the city, to reach the bus station. That place is pure chaos, with more buses than gates. People are pushing to get their tickets, they won't move to let you walk by them... Tastes like Asia.

We had just enough time to eat at the cafeteria, where the waiter might have never been tipped before... and we left for 12 hours on the bus to Göreme. That's exactly when I started feeling I might have a cold. Like everytime I travel.

In the bus, which would stop every three hours, service was included. But the smile was extra. And it seems like we didn't pay for it. One hour or two after we left, sitting at the back of the bus, we were getting to know the people behind us when we were told to keep quiet. We were disturbing apparently. Probably not as much as the baby who cried half of the night, though. There was an entertainment system too, like in planes. But with turkish movies only. Long road ahead.

Rain and Heat in Istanbul

The view on the Golden Horn, from my hostel in Istanbul

The heat is hard to handle in Istanbul, especially when you have a ton of luggage to carry on your back.

I already had enough because of the delay in the airport when I started my adventure for a one-hour metro-tram ride.

At the very end of the metro line, I had to transfer to the tram. Unlike in most big cities, the transfers won't happen at the stop itself. You have to walk around and find your way to make it to the tram. Ask for the way, it'll save you some time.

Then, a coincidence struck when I met a Kazakh girl in the tram. She lives in Vienna, where my travel partner is from.

We were getting out at the same stop and we realized we booked hostels that are a couple of meters apart. So we agreed to explore together.

For our first night, we walked in a beautiful market, saw a dancing dervish and we tried a restaurant where we had a view on the Blue Mosque. The restaurant was in an old destroyed stable and the tables placed outside were in the ruins. The rain, which brought down the heat a little, forced us to eat inside though.

We tried the testi kebab, that meat stew cooked in a clay pot. The waiter brought the pot on a little table lit on fire. And with a machete, he broke the pot before pouring the stew into a bowl. Tasty!

On our way back to the hostel, in total darkness, we saw a big group of birds turning around the minarets of the blue mosque. We didn't get to see that again the other days. It was interesting but I still wonder what happened exactly.

And while we were about to go back to bed, we decided to stop in a bar, where we literally closed the bar down. It was their last night ever. So we started the action on the dance floor. And for those who think you can't drink alochol in a country where most people are muslims... think again. Unless you're facing the mosque, there is no problem at all. But we were tired and I was jet lagged, so I stayed really calm.

Schipol and Ataturk

Gilly is sitting on the floor in Schipol Airport.

Fort the first day of a trip, is there anything better than spending hours after hours in some airports?

Technically, I spent quite some time in PET in Montréal, waiting for KLM flight to take off to the Netherlands. There, a three hours stopover awaited.

I knew Schipol for spending a short time there on my way to South Africa. But this time, I had to wait longer. And I can't say I appreciated it that much.

Of course, I applaud the fast passport control, if you consider staying in Europe. But for the rest...

First, the wi-fi, free for two 30 minutes sessions, can help kill some time. But when you have three hours to kill, it's not as useful. In the transit section where I was, it was hard to find a free seat to sit. Waiting rooms are locked behind some glass walls, at the gates themselves. So I did like so many others and I sat on the floor.

On the other hand, the marketing thing is pretty good. If you walk around looking for a chair, you might end up sitting in a restaurant, where you'll buy some food...

There is also security, very strict, which you have to go throught at the gate. Problem is they grab you everywhere, more than they need to, even if it is obvious the metal detector rang because you forgot some coins in your pockets.

Nothing to reassure the security guards, or maybe they did know they would be tested, false "terrorists" were standing just in front of me. They had forbidden objects in their luggage but seemed to be working as "mystery clients". They were spotted pretty fast.

Got to Ataturk Airport in Istanbul after that. Got there a little late, and once we walked off the plane, it was total confusion. The queue was very long.

Note that you might need a visa to visit Turkey. You can get it online, on the gouvernement website, or directly at the airport. There, all you need to do is pay the entrance fees to get a sticker. For Canadians, fees are high... 60 $ US.

After, everybody had to wait for passport control. The queue exceeded the gates made for that. It took two hours, after 10 hours on the plane, to get the stamp.

From there, we had to search for our luggage on the conveyor belt because the screens were not showing our flight anymore. By looking around, trying to spot other people from our flight, we finally found them.

After that long day, all that was left to do was to take the metro and the tram to the hostel. Useful and giving you discounts, the Istanbul Card, identical to the Octopus Card in Hong Kong or the Oyster Card in London, is a magnetic card you can charge and use in public transport. Only problem, the vending machine doesn't take the 50 turkish liras bills you get in the ATM's.

On my way to Turkey

Here I am, on the road again. Yes, again you'll say. Never enough, I would add.

So at this point, I'm somewhere between home and Turkey. Crazy? Bah!

I had chosen not to travel this summer. But I changed my mind. Hesitated between Switzerland, Croatia, Turkey, and the UK. Asking around, I found myself a traveling partner ready to board for Turkey. Decision made!

But now, the conditions got worse there. Protests are going on and on in Erdogan's country. Go or not to go?

Of course, there is the financial aspect. Flight was booked and I won't get a refund unless I'm sick or it's way too dangerous to go there. And I have that feeling that the risks, ever present in Turkey, one must admit, are probably concentrated in some public places like Taksim Square. Would be surprised if the protesters invaded the mosques and the other very touristic attractions.

So I'm leaving. I'll see. My instinct will be my first ally. Nothing keeps me from changing my plans if I feel unsafe. But for now, after looking at the warnings on the government website, I'm not worried.

Let the adventures begin...

Hostels in Amsterdam

With Brel's song in mind (Amsterdam), I started looking for a hostel in Amsterdam. Just in case. Because I usually travel in the low season. But not this time. And it appears the city of vice might get crowded in June.

Conclusion : when hostels get full without any effort from the owners, there is no need to offer a good service. When you look at this, the average rate on hostelworld, for any of these hostels, is pretty low. Cleanliness, staff, apparently, everything is "not so good".

So I gathered my informations from friends living in Amsterdam. They confirmed : the hostel world in that city is a jungle.

A jungle because you might end up with smoking, drinking, noisy roomates. With the Red Light nearby, you know... That's where you might want a hostel with a no-smoking, no-drinking policy.

A jungle too because when you read previous customer's comments, you understand it's gonna be pricey for average service. When your description states the showers don't work that well... and you don't plan on fixing them, it means you probably still make a lot of money out of your crappy hostel.

Other downer : unless you want to go far away from the city, the fares double for a bed on Saturday. Yes! You won't find a bed under 60 $... in a dorm.

Anyway, I booked to ensure I would sleep somewhere. Took a cancellation insurance. If I find some people to share a room, it might be cheaper in a hotel...

That said, I won't hold back from commetning once I get there. Stay tuned.

La Nouvelle

On another subject, I now write a column called Le Bourlingueur in the weekly newspaper La Nouvelle. French readers will find me there once a week.

Those who leave

We never really come back from a long expedition. Or maybe we do. For some. But nostalgia, as small as it can be, never turns itself off.

There are those who inevitably go on, who keep on traveling once you're home. Like that girl I met four days before the end of my own adventure. She was in the first week of six months of exploration.

And there are those others who look at you with eyes wide open when you say you haven't been home for months. They're jealous and believe they can't do the same. Or they face too many obstacles.

Then you have those who write to you to ask how you did it. Write back again to say they are planning their own round-the-world trip. And, like my friend Ben, who I met in Japan, they start their own blog to keep in touch with their friends and family.

Ben is leaving in less than a week. For six months. And I can see myself, one year ago, just about to jump. The unknown staring at me. Knowing my adventures would bring me far away from where I thought I would go.

I smile thinking of Ben embarking on his own journey. And I'll follow him with a lot of interest.

What advice could I give him? Plan a little. Not too much. Be open and go with the flow. Try new things. Get to know people. They might be the best friends you'll ever know, even if for only a few hours. Embrace the lows. They are moments to regroup. Accept what you can't change. Don't let fear get the best of you, but listen to yourself when you get that feeling you should stray from your path... Have fun, and if you can, stop in Cambodia for a least a couple of days.

So there are those who are leaving, and those who already understand that feeling. Those who make us feel better when we believe nobody shares our way of seeing the world. So I found that post, which I recommend you read if interested in how traveling affects you. It's called Date a boy who travels.

A simple goodbye to Africa

Cape Town, South Africa

There was no way we would let our last day in Africa go without making the best out of it. The optimists thought four hours were all we needed to go from Wilderness to Cape Town. Me and my friend woke up at 6 AM to bring back the car where it belongs.

We're still debating to see if we should be proud of it or not, but we litteraly "opened" a McDonald's like others "close" the bars. For breakfast. Because no other options. No time to lose : the road ahead was long enough.

In the end, it took five hours, maybe more, to reach our destination. After the third "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go", rain started to fall. Hard. Well, not that much. But enough for the radio to ask drivers to stay home. Several accidents had already happened and were blocking the roads in the big city. It felt like a big snowstorm in Quebec. For a simple rain shower.

Anyway, the wheather situation, with temperature going down, was reassuring about us missing out on the expedition to Robben Island. We would have been miserable had we gone. My shoes, the only pair in my bag, were still damp from the day before. Nothing to help.

So we spent the last part of the day eating, comparing the price of items we bought to see if they were cheaper in the souvenir shop or after we negociated with locals (generally, we saved money. Woot!) and visiting District 6 museum. One needs time and a taste for reading to appreciate the museum... When we got out, while we had paid for our parking, a street guard tried to get some money out of us. We couldn't leave Africa without escaping a scam.

But that was not the end of the adventure for us, who were a little short on time to give the car back and make sure my copilot would catch his plane. Yes, yes, yes, a big traffic jam on the highway. And... yes, yes, yes, the fuel sign lit to tell us the Ferrari was thirsty, right there, in the middle of a sea of cars. You know, when you really don't want to see what happens when you run out of gaz and need to search for it while driving to the airport.

With stress on our mind, we fueled the car and got to the rental desk on time. We still needed to clean the car (two guys, two weeks, a car... See the picture?). Anyway, we had time to eat a snack and to dry my shoes before we split.

The copilot disappeared for the security controls while the check-in counter for my flight was still not open. I saw my friend's plane take off before I could finally get rid of my luggage.

Boarding the KLM plane, after having three hours to kill on my own, I had that strange feeling I would be back soon on the african continent.

And for those wondering, yes, we got the picture from the photo radar. Speeding on the South African highway didn't go unnoticed.

The interest of the unforeseen

Wilderness

I've already said it, the unforeseen brings the best surprises. Whether you panic trying to fit everything in the schedule like it was planned from the start, or you do with what you have and you have fun no matter what.

When we woke up in Knysna, before visiting the township, we wanted to leave as soon as possible towards Cape Town so we could spend at least one more full day in the big city. But knowing it would be impossible to visit Robben Island, we knew we could take it slower.

In the end, after the township and a more than welcome meal, it was already late. So we opted for a one or two hours drive before stopping in Wilderness, a city that wasn't on the radar at first.

Wilderness, it is the calmness in the outdoor. It is also one of the most interesting hostels we found, the
Fairy Knowe Backpackers, with its volleyball field, its meals served on a big common table, and a bar outside, under a roof.

We met interesting people and chose, the next morning, to go horseback riding in south african nature. Our guide was going slow, knowing we were not used to that activity, which didn't stop my horse scaring me by tripping... After, we stayed, rented a kayak to go up the river and walked to a waterfall.

Back in the hostel, we decided to drive to Swellendam. But to make sure everything would go well, we tried booking a room. Surprise! No bed left.

And South Africa isn't France. No way to find another city around there to spend the night. After some useless maths, we had no choice but to book the last two beds in the dorm, in Wilderness. The next morning, we would have to drive for five hours to reach Cape Town.

We had fun anyway in that calm city and we forgot we had less than 24 hours before we would leave Mandela's country.

Visit a township

Knysna

Enough with the elephants! To leave Addo park, we made our way towards the south part of the reserve. Slowly. And there was a lot nothing out there. Until we ran into an elephant alone on the road. Nearby! Nearby! Nearby! At the exit gate, the guards made sure we were not leaving with an animal... or anything else that was forbidden.

We then stopped for one of the best meals we had in South Africa, in Jeffrey's Bay. Still, we had to make our way near the water, to Die Walskipper.

Built on the beach itself, directly on the sand, the restaurant offers portions so big you will probably need to bring the leftovers with you. There is homemade bread, meat cooked on a fire and a magnificient view on the ocean. On the other hand, it might be uncomfortable to see the richness of the marina next to a poorer township.

After that, we spent the night in Knysna, a small town where most of the lights go out after 8 PM.

One of the highlight in Knysna, other than The Heads, those cliffs forming one of the narrowest entry port according to some, is the visit of a township. Those are to South Africa what favelas are to Brazil. To go there, we chose the tour our hostel, Island Vibe, was offering. It is advised to never walk alone in a township.

The guide first brought us to The Heads before driving us to the township. The kids there, living in small poor houses, were so happy to see us. For some of them, strangers mean they'll get candies. So they reach out for them.

We also stopped in the rastafarian community, where we visited a nursery. We ended up in a bar, on top of a hill... at noon.

The visit of a township should and must be on your to-do list in South Africa!

In the afternoon, we left for Wilderness, not without aknowledging there was no tickets left for the ferry to Robben Island, on the day we would be back in Cape Town. Bad karma! Even when trying to book ahead, luck wasn't on our side.

Elephants! Finally!

It may be nice to have time to sleep, but it's not every day you get to visit South Africa.

We had to throw ourselves from our beds to finally wake up and start our first complete day in Addo Elephant National Park. We had booked a game drive in the morning too, to make sure we would see as many different types of animals as possible. Departure time : 6. AM! For me, that's almost in the middle of the night.

Nyway! This time, there were 24 of us in a huge truck. At our first stop, after encountering zebras on the way, we could see five or six hyenas, which had just caught their breakfast : a fresh turtle. Seeing that many hyenas, apparently, is rare. Bucket list : check!

For the rest of it, it was just an endless trip around the park, where we didn't see that many animals. Some buffalos again, some kudus... and some more kudus.

Back at camp, we ate our own breakfast before stopping at the convenient-grocery store to buy some food. It is the only store in the park. By chance, you can find everything there. We bought noodles, frozen vegetables, frozen meat, some spices and something to calm thirst. And what we needed for lunch too. The frozen things are a good idea. Because when it's 40 degrees Celsius outside, for tourists having nothing to keep food fresh, meat gets bad fast.

So we started exploring the park with the Ferrari. As recommended, we drove from waterhole to waterhole. Until... Around noon, when the sun is at its peak, elphants, warthog, zebras and jackals all go to drink. So we spent long minutes watching a whole groupe of elephants taking care of their babies. They took turns to drink and get water to cool down. Amazing!

After, we stopped at the picnic area, protected with barb wires (there are nine lions going around the park), to eat our lunch. Here, strange birds are everywhere and small monkees, obviously used to humans, were watching, waiting to steal our food. Me not trusting monkeys. Me ate fast.

In the afternoon, we saw nature more than anything, animal hidding in the bushes.

At the end of the day, we reached our final destination, Spekboom camp, where we had booked a simple tent with two beds, a lamp, a barbecue and a shared kitchen with a fridge. Camp is situated in the middle of the park, with walls and barb wires around. From one side, there is a view on a waterhole.

Other than the relative calmness and the darkness, it's the starry sky, without too much light pollution, that stole the show. Worth! Every! Penny!