Why this journey?

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My name is Pascal.
I have lived, worked, loved, fallen, and risen again… often far away, sometimes very far from home.

Today, at an age when many begin to slow down, I have decided to leave.
From Koh Samui to Paris. By scooter. By road.

This journey is not a sporting challenge.
It is not a performance.
It is a quest.

A quest for meaning.
A quest for healing.
A quest for encounters, traditional medicines, forgotten roads, faces and cultures.

For months now, I have been living with constant pain.
A herniated disc, an unreliable leg, a body reminding me of its limits.

So I decided to stop waiting.
To go meet the methods, the knowledge, the men and women who heal differently.

This blog is the journal of that crossing.
Day after day. Country after country.
With my doubts, my hopes, my struggles, and my joys.

If you are here, it is probably not by chance.

Welcome to the adventure.

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                                The project — my journey, in a few lines

        From Koh Samui to Paris by scooter, departure June 2026

 

 

The journey

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Approximately 15,000 kilometers across Asia, Central Asia, Russia and Europe.

Thailand, Laos, China, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Russia, Eastern Europe, and finally France.

A slow journey.
A land journey.
A human journey.

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Through this route, I will:

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• travel through countries often forgotten by traditional tourist routes

• meet healers, practitioners and traditional therapists

• document local methods to relieve pain, body and mind

• share every stage, every encounter, every struggle, every light

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This project is both:

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• a travel journal

• a personal quest for healing

• a human adventure

• and the first stone of a future professional project built around travel and the open road

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Preparation

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Such a journey is not decided on a whim.
It requires preparation. Slowly. Methodically. Sometimes with doubt. Often with patience.

Before even turning the scooter’s key, there are months of reflection, administrative procedures and important choices to make.

 

Documents and visas

 

Each country has its own rules.
Its delays.
Its forms.
Its requirements.

Visas, travel permits, lengths of stay, multiple entries and conditional exits must all be anticipated.

It means dealing with embassies, consulates and administrations that are sometimes opaque, sometimes unpredictable.

Nothing spectacular.
But nothing simple either.

 

The scooter

 

The scooter is not a symbol.
It is a tool.
And it must be reliable.

Servicing, spare parts, tires, transmission, lighting, brakes, suspension, tools, consumables…
Every detail matters when crossing thousands of kilometers far from everything.

You don’t carry the unnecessary.
You carry the essential.

 

The body

 

I am leaving with a damaged body — but still standing.
A herniated disc.
An unreliable leg.
Limits that must be respected.

Preparation also means:

• treatments

• testing traditional methods

• adjustments

• listening

This is not about transforming myself.
It is about knowing myself.
And not lying to myself.

 

The mind

 

It is not spoken about enough.
Yet it may be the most important part.

Leaving alone, for a long time, far away, at a slow pace, without certainty…
this also requires mental preparation.

Accepting fatigue.
Doubt.
Empty moments.
Silence.
Self-questioning.

This journey will not be a straight line.
And that is perfectly fine.

 

Timing — Departure June 2026

 

The departure is planned for June 2026.

Not by chance,
but because it is the most coherent window to cross Asia, Central Asia and Russia without being trapped by the seasons.

Too early means cold.
Too late means winter.

The calendar is part of the journey.

 

The unknown

 

And then there is everything that cannot be planned.

Borders that close.
Roads that disappear.
Unexpected encounters.
Forced detours.
Decisions made in the moment.

That is also why I am leaving.

For that space —
the one where nothing is written yet.

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Support the Samui adventure → Paris
 
This journey is a personal voyage, but also an open project.

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Support the Samui → Paris journey

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This journey is a personal crossing, but it is also an open project.

I am leaving because I live with pain.
I am leaving because I have not found a true solution here.
I am leaving because I still want to believe that beyond borders, there are gestures that relieve, knowledge that heals, and traditions that care.

From Thailand to France, through Central Asia, Russia and Eastern Europe, I want to meet healers, steppe bonesetters, Anatolian hammams, traditional practitioners and forgotten medicines.

Thai massage, acupuncture, medicinal plants, hot springs, ancestral treatments…
Perhaps a miracle is waiting somewhere along the road.

This journey is a mix of necessity and irrationality.
A step forward when others stop.
A chosen road when the body slows down.

And if this path can help me, then perhaps it may help others as well.

That is why this adventure exists.

If you wish to support this road,
to help a man reach the end of his journey,
to take part in a human, medical and spiritual quest,
then you are welcome.

Every form of support, whatever it may be, is a push forward on the road.
An encouragement.
An invisible presence — yet very real.

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This fundraising will help cover:

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• fuel and scooter maintenance

• simple accommodation along the road

• food

• treatments and meetings with traditional practitioners

• logistics required to cross countries

I will travel slowly, simply and humbly.
I will document every stage, every encounter, every struggle and every light.

 

 

Thank you for being here.
Thank you for your presence.
Thank you for your support, in whatever form it takes.

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Before the road — “On the healers’ path” (Thailand)

 

I have not left yet.
The road is still ahead of me.
Borders, kilometers, visas, tracks, unknown nights… all of that will come.

But the quest has already begun.

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When the body imposes its truth

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There are pains that do not scream.
They settle in.
They invite themselves.
They take their place without asking permission.

For months now, my groin and my leg have reminded me of their limits.
Sometimes I walk normally.
Sometimes I limp.
Sometimes I adapt.

I do not dramatize.
I observe.

And when modern medicine — outside of surgery — has done what it can, when answers become vague and solutions repeat themselves… one begins to look elsewhere.

Not out of rejection.
Out of necessity.

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Searching differently

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In Thailand, traditional medicine is not a tourist attraction.
It is alive.
Present.
Quiet.

It is practiced in homes, in villages, in places you will not find on Google.
It is passed on through words, gestures and observation.

You do not make an appointment.
You are introduced.
You are accepted.
Or not.

It was in this spirit that I allowed myself to be guided toward an ancient treatment — little known, rarely explained.

A treatment at the frontier between the physical and the energetic.
One you do not experience out of curiosity,
but out of need.

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The place, the silence, the waiting

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No clinic.
No white coats.
No waiting room.

A floor.
A mat.
A dense silence.
Calm gazes.

Few words.
Observation.
Touch.
Evaluation.

I lay down without knowing exactly what would happen.
Without expectation.
Without fear.
With respect.

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The gesture

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The metal rod.
Thin.
Precise.
Steady.

Quick insertions.
Localized.
Controlled.

Then the plants.

Ointments.
Preparations whose names and compositions I do not know.

No theatre.
No spectacular incantations.
No folklore.

Just an ancient gesture.
A transmitted knowledge.
Total concentration.

It was not pleasant.
It was not unbearable.
It was… right.

As if the body recognized something the mind could not explain.

 

This practice is known as medicinal Sak Yant.
It has existed for centuries in Thailand,
passed from master to disciple, often in villages, outside the official medical system.

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​​Between pain and release

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I will not speak of miracles.
I will not speak of healing.
I will not speak of promises.

I will speak of sensation.

Warmth.
Circulation.
Release.
A space opening where everything had been tight.

And above all… a very particular feeling:
that of having been taken seriously.
Truly.

Not as a file.
Not as a case.
But as a body.
As a human being.

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What tradition says

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Later, I read an old Thai document about this type of treatment — a serious, medical text passed down from master to disciple.

It speaks of practices used for centuries to:

• relieve deep pain

• treat inflammation

• rebalance internal energies

• heal trauma, injuries and blockages

• and sometimes… protect

The text states that this knowledge is disappearing.
That authentic practitioners are becoming rare.
That transmission is fragile.

And I thought:

“This is exactly who I want to meet on the road.”

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The healers’ road

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This treatment is not an isolated episode.
It is a sign.

It confirms what I had long sensed:
that healing is not always found in protocols,
that relief is not always in pills,
that answers sometimes lie in ancient, simple, human gestures.

This is where the idea was born.

From Thailand to France — through Central Asia, the steppes, Anatolia and Eastern Europe —
to meet those who heal differently.

Those who work with their hands.
With plants.
With listening.
With intuition.

Steppe bonesetters.
Village healers.
Anatolian hammams.
Traditional practitioners.
Forgotten medicines.

Not to collect experiences.
But to understand.
To feel.
To experiment.

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Why tell all this

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Because I am not alone.
Because many people live with chronic pain.
Because some have lost hope.
Because others search without finding.

I claim nothing.
I promise nothing.
I share.

What I live.
What I feel.
What I encounter.

Without filters.
Without staging.
Without masks.

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This is only the beginning

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I am not yet on the road.
But the road is already within me.

In this first meeting.
In this first treatment.
In this first trust given.

It is the first stone.
The first step.
The first door.

The rest will be written elsewhere.
Further away.
On the road.

To be continued…
With healers.
In villages.
On tracks.
In the margins.

Where medicine does not always have a name,
but often… a soul.

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           This is just the beginning of the journey.

                                                       

     The real road begins soon.

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