As I get off the plane, I must get through a draconian sanitary control. The agent auscultates the hiking shoes and confiscates my tent to check no clod of earth remained clung to the poles. I meet a Frenchman and a Belgian I spend the afternoon with and we land into a youth hostel. According to the number of the wall-hanging brochures, we understand New Zealand is extremely well-prepared for tourism. It's probably here the modern nomadism was invented and never stopped improving.
12 hours of jet lag, hard to go farther except getting on a boat and sailing more eastwards. I'm exactly at the other end of the planet, at the bottom right in the geographical map. New-Zealand is a country that will remain perfectly unknown for many people if it didn't house the best rugby team in the world. Despite the recent feat of the French coqs during the worldcup, this small 4-million-inhabitant island lives at the rate of the rugby and its teams such as the Auckland Blues or the Wellington Hurricanes.
In a bookshop, the Tana Umaga's autobiography has its stall and I rush up to glance through. He talks about the fervour of the Toulon (the city where I live) spectators and 2 beautiful pictures are within the book. For sure, the inhabitants of the country of the long white cloud will know where to pinpoint the harbour of Toulon in the southeast of France.
After several months of a disjointed life, I find back a European-like atmosphere, a country where we pay attention to the road signs and where the horn is pushed down only in case of a compelling necessity. The city of Auckland is calm with a low traffic.
I leave the youth hostel to meet my Couch Surfing's hosts who will house me for 2 nights. Jenny and Tamz welcome me with a large smile and I feel at home in their house. Another guest is here as well with whom, the next day, go to visit Auckland. The harbour and its boats of the America's cup, the lively Queen street and the sky tower we can jump off from, hanging on a rope.
As we go back, I meet my brother I haven't seen for several months and I'm happy to meet him. He rented a small car that makes the trip easier and planed a full programme to do. There are all these activities that are tempting and have the strange name of : bungie-jump, cave-abseiling, hydrospeed jet, rafting, kayak, tramping, sky diving and the zorbing (rolling downhill within a big ball). The activities are expensive but we will probably succeed in doing some of them. Let's go for one month of adventures in the kiwis' country!
Keyword - plane -
Thursday 1 November 2007
2 twins at the kiwis' country
By dorian on Thursday 1 November 2007, 19:04 - RTW-New Zealand
Tuesday 28 August 2007
Transition in Hong Kong
By dorian on Tuesday 28 August 2007, 22:13 - RTW-China
It's time to assess this beautiful loop in China. A wonderful trip I can't summarize in a few words. Not everything was easy during this trip and some topics leave us wondering less than one year before the Olympic Games. The tourist who wishes to travel on his own will bump into several problems. The language barrier is the main one. At the restaurant, at the hotel or to move around despite the very good rail and road networks. Except the main cities and touristy spots, it's very hard to find someone who speaks the Shakespeare's language. I also point out : don't expect to find English signs in the bus or train stations. Another misunderstanding must be credited to some hotels which don't accept foreigners. Another difficulty turns out to be the cash withdrawal in all the cities but Shanghai, Beijing and the touristy spots. The ATM don't accept international credit cards (except for the Bank of China, although not always). And the counter clerks will stay puzzled while they stare at your card.
On the other hand, the remote hinterlands offer some genuine Chinese lures and a unique opportunity to live the country in its "original version". Learning basic Chinese and speaking in a so different language brings as much pleasure as discovering the natural gems of the country, its sacred mountains, the temples and its traditions. And these small worries look insignificant in comparison with the whirlpool of sensations the country brings.
Leaving Beijing, I have a change of scenery and head towards Nepal. A welcome change after one month spent with my family in the Mao's country. A part of the trip ends and a new one remains to be written onto the Himalayan heights. The transition goes off smoothly since my connection flight in Hong Kong leaves me enough time to visit the former British colony. The United Kingdom handed over the control of the protectorate to the Chinese government, 10 years ago. From this rich past and from its thriving present converges a subtle blend of Londoner trams, American fast-foods and Asian souls. In fact, Hong Kong is an island and a small part of the Hong Kong province that enjoys a relative autonomy. Chinese visa is not necessary to come here. Opposite the island, about a few hundreds meter away, there's the Kowloon district we can reach by boat or by metro. The town is definitely cosmopolitan, more in term of represented nationalities than type of workers, mainly tuxedo-clad businessmen.
The northern part of the Hong Kong island harbours a concentration of the tallest towers in the world. Down the towers, roads looks like tiny alleyways in comparison with giant-size skyscrapers. My urban walk is short but this city deserves to be known and remains a urban paradise for a lot of people wishing a renew in their professional career.
I take again the shuttle train and head for the airport before taking a plane to Delhi, then a new connection flight to Kathmandu after sleeping several hours at the transit area of the Delhi airport.
Tuesday 12 June 2007
In the streets of Saint-Petersburg
By dorian on Tuesday 12 June 2007, 19:11 - RTW-Russia
Wake-up at 4h45, a quarter of an hour to dress up, to pack up my belongings and my brother drops me off at the Roissy - Charles de Gaulle airport. I check in my backpack and the hostess gives me the boarding card. The first flight is short and 45 minutes after taking off from Paris, we arrive in London Heathrow. The safety precautions are draconian with a body search for every traveler. A bus takes me from the terminal 4 to the terminal 1 where I'm going to take a connection to Saint-Petersburg. The first travelers get on the plane and I feel the change of surroundings because most travelers are russian or english.
We land at 17h00 (local time) 2h later than in France. The airport is very tiny in comparison with Paris or London airports. As soon as we get off the plane, the authorities ask us to fill in an immigration form and to go to see the customs officer with this document and the passport. The officer auscultates the visa (got it in France, impossible to come here without visa on pain of being driven back) and gives the stamped passport back to me, I reward him with a large smile and I head for the next hall to collect my backpack. Before leaving the airport, I withdraw some roubles to take the marchroutka will drop me off downtown, 14km away. The marchroutki, a kind of minibuses, are the most economic ways to go downtown. I talk with the driver usind the sign language because in russian, I can hardly say "good morning", "good gye" and "thank you". I show him on a map where I want to go and he nods his head, I take a banknote out of my pocket and I show him 1000 roubles. The driver gives me back the change the price of the journey is only 15 roubles.
In the bus I meet an Italian guy ; he's very happy to be on board because he saved a lot of money. Actually, before getting on, he wanted to take the taxi but the price was 100 times more expensive for the same journey ! 50€ instead of 0,5€ ! I get off downtown and I start walking to look for my family host. The address is scribbled in French on a piece of sheet while all signs are in cyrillic here, just a game for the brain to convert the alphabet. Some letters are the same but the pronunciation is different, for instance, the cyrillic H is pronounced N, the C is pronounced S, the P is pronounced R, there are also new letters, one of them is pronounced "shch"...
I drop my backpack at the bedroom and go to discover the city. I walk alongside the canals. My eyes switch from a façade to another one. Sometimes ochre, sometimes white, the façades are massive, imposing in the image of the Russian Empire. Wandering about the Saint-Petersburg streets, I think of the History-wealthed cities, on a crossroads, we turn the head and a monument faces us. I let myself go with this architectural show without trying to know what the name of this cathedral or this building. It's only when I go back to my room I rebuild my run : the Nevski perspective, the Kazan cathedral, the Saviour-on-the-spilled-blood church, the Mikhaïlovsky gardens, the Russian museum and the magnificient Hermitage.
Around 10 p.m. I go back to the Saviour-on-the-spilled-blood church that is still open. To describe the interior, here is the recipe : take the best Russian artists (Frolov brothers' workshop), give them tons of multicoloured pebbles, lock them up for 12 years and you get 7000m² of mosaics illustrating episodes of the New Testament. Not a square meter was forgotten, really marvellous, even for the nonbelievers.
page 2 of 2 - next entries »
visits