As well as most of Kathmandu inhabitants, Sujan likes to speak about his native village, Mallaj, “among the hills, over the city, between rivers, fields and mountains”. So when he proposes me to visit his family I have no other choice but to accept. At this time, I am far from imagining what I will experience there …

After many hours on the hazardous roads and bridges that lead us to Beni, the closest city, we finally step out on the ground. Wind is blowing as we walk towards the village, keeping eyes half closed and with a dust taste in the mouth. “We are going to visit my sister” says Sujan. “He’s also got a sister? ” am I thinking… I finally understand after having greeted a handle of brothers and sisters that they are what we are used to call cousins in western countries. We take a seat, drink a glass of raksi (pronounced roksi, a home made alcohol) and eat some snacks. Glass after glass mood is getting warmer and friendlier and, despite the fact we do not understand each other, we spend altogether a great moment moving from house to house in order to visit the whole family living here. “If ever I forget to visit someone, he will be angry” confesses Sujan.

Once the family tour achieved, we are facing a dangerous and steep path that will lead us to the top of the hill where the village lays. Having spent so much time drinking, eating and laughing, it is in the dark, then in a black night, that we climb it. Despite the effort, laughs and singings makes the challenge easier, although they will not last long, soon to be replaced by the regular breath of the climbing men. In the end, we reach the village safe and sound and are welcomed following Hindu traditions. One after each other, the members of the family bless us with the tikha,  giving us a flowers collar and sticking on our forehead this special mix of rice and red vegetal mixture. As the second foreigner visiting this place I am welcomed as a very special guest and I am even given money during the ritual, a way to wish me prosperity, which makes me feel quite ill at ease. However it is getting late and we quickly go to bed. Tomorrow is a very special day and we do not want to miss it at any price!

This morning, the alarm clock is replaced by the sound of the rooster. It is and will be the first and last time that it will reach my ears. Today his sacrifice and the one of some female colleagues of him is organized. House after house, one can see the villagers blessing the future offerings with water, rice and flowers, a testimony of respect for the soon to be dead animals. Morning is about to end as the whole family meets around the sacrificial altar. The master of the ceremony prepares the ritual, incense and offerings are displayed in a specific order and with great precision. Religious illustrations are then drawn using a yellow powder making me think of curry: a star representing the sun (quite similar to David star), svastikas representing harmony and so on. Preparation takes time, children get excited, tension rises…

Once the preparation is over the ritual sacrifice can start. The rooster’s head is stuck to a wood piece and, with a quick and precise movement the khukuri’s edge slices the animal’s neck. Eyes of the bird blink frantically before closing once and for all and one takes its corpse around the altar in order to spread the blood on it. Sometimes, the corpse escapes from the hands of the one who is carrying it and runs for a few meters before collapsing, which amuses the children. Then, one by one, roosters and hens are sacrificed to Hindu gods without them having any notion of what is happening. A future banquet is about to start for us, humans.

Women are preparing the meal in the kitchen, sitting in front of the wood oven, sometimes whistling on embers, letting smoke curls escape into the main room. Men are taking place between the four walls, sitting cross-legged on straw carpets. They will be the next ones to eat, just after the children, women being last, following to the tradition. The meal is a great success. Rice, lentils, vegetables curry (the usual Nepalese dal bhat) and of course boiled rooster are devoured, along with liters of homemade raksi. Everybody is laughing, sometimes also crying, the abuse of raksi bringing painful feelings to mind, but today joy is reigning over Mallaj, the (almost) whole family being finally reunited.

The party is over and days are passing by peacefully. Every morning I feel fulfilled by the show of the  snowy Himalayan summits unfolding to my eyes, right next to my door. I am enjoying the simple but delightful feeling of life in the countryside. Day after day, I feel more and more comfortable in this place even if it is almost impossible for me to communicate with the villagers. Hosts are doing their best to make this stay the most enjoyable possible and I can testify once more of their hospitality when, lying feverish in my bed, they bring me water and fresh hot buffalo milk from the farm. I feel like a child being pampered as he just caught a bad flu. Laying in my bed under two layers of blankets I can listen to the sound of the raindrops hitting the stone roof of my shelter and savor the hot milk before resting. However, this little moment of pure innocence will not last forever.

After another fever attack, I am peacefully sleeping when the hysteric screams of a lady not far from here suddenly wake me up. As I do not really understand Nepalese, I think that she might be arguing with someone else or reprimanding her children but the screams seem to persist forever. I then decide to step out of my bed and see what is happening. Shivering and shaking, I wailk towards the gathering a few houses from here. Some children are crying, some others run and take me by the hand to show me what is happening. At this moment, the worst ideas begin to come to my mind. Did she become crazy? Did a children fall and die? …

To be continued …

Nepal, home of the highest summit in the world and of the spectacular Himalayan mountain range; an example of natural beauty. But behind the shining image of snowy mountains hides a darker truth. Beyond these shining diamonds live people that are fighting everyday for their survival, barely earning what is needed to feed themselves. Then, many children are abandoned every year because of the impossibility for their parents to take care of them.

Extreme poverty, health problems, prostitution, prison, forbidden marriages … These are only a handle of the possible causes that might push a family to the terrible act of abandoning a children. But whatever the reason, some persons give their life in order to help these doomed children, to give them all the chances they need to succeed in life. Among these saviors, I have been lucky to meet Suzan and Anita.

A couple of months ago, Suzan and Anita chose to sacrifice their life to help some of these orphans. So they decided to open an orphanage. In order to do this, they invested all their savings and even more. While most of the people of their age having a decent job decide to buy an apartment or a house, a security for their future, Suzan and Anita think of their orphans, their children, first. House rent, scholarship fees, balanced diet, furnitures and cloths, … These are only a part of the usual expenses they have to face every month when, their wallet already being empty, they have to ask for help to friends, family or to demand a delay in the payment, which is a cause of frequent conflicts between Suzan and his father.

Money is actually not the only problem they have to face. Although it has already been abolished, the casts system is still existing in the mind of some Nepalese people and it is the cause of many difficulties Suzan and Anita meet during their processes. Then they have to multiply efforts in order to obtain what they need for the well being of the seven children under their protection.

Their fight, as difficult as it is, pays off. The final exam results of the children have been pretty good and seeing them working and playing in their room or outdoors in the garden makes one think that although all the difficulties, it is a great success.

Unfortunately, if they do not reach the ten children quota in their orphanage within a few months, they will have to close it down. “In the worst of the cases, we can make it last a few more months, but afterwards it will not be possible anymore” confesses Suzan. They are then facing a new problem : being able to host three more children in the following months. “But how can we do? We have no money to buy beds, blankets, cloths, …”. Ordeals are accumulating for Suzan and Anita, but I truly trust their future success.

If like me you wish to give them a hand in their fight and give these children a chance by helping them humanly, financially or materially, feel free to check the orphanage’s website and contact them. They will be very happy to answer to your questions.

Suzan and Anita, I wish you the best of luck. Your fight is worth it! :)

“Arrival on Kathmandu is surprising”. Here are the first words on my travel diary. As a great fanatic of the vast frozen landscapes, the first steps in this city of more than one and a half million inhabitants in which horn-driven driving, pollution and dust are part of the banalities, were quite disturbing.

Once the shock of discovery passed, Kathmandu opens little by little to my senses. Between the dilapidated walls of the narrow streets and under the chaotic rows of electric wires resonate the harassing sounds of engines and horns, the hubbub of discussing people and the voice of those who try to sell you something : “Hello sir! You need taxi?”; or in a more discrete way : “Hey, hey! You need smoke? Hashich, Opium?… Good quality!”. Sounds, but also smells. Between fumes and dust raised by thousands of people and vehicles, urban smells are delightfully mixed up with the syrupy scents of incense and spices.

Quite disconcerted at the beginning I quickly get used to this surrounding jumble and notice that the more I get out of the touristic district of Thamel, the more the real Kathmandu unveils. It is always pleasant to take a walk here in the early morning. Tourists? Inexistent. Street salesmen? Probably still sleeping, exception made from a few taxi drivers looking out. The handle of vehicles already running is not really annoying and the atmosphere is favorable to interesting and unexpected encounters. One can quickly find themselves drinking a Nepalese tea, served very sweet with milk, chatting of everything and anything with a totally unknown person. Or also discussing about life with a “shoe doctor” proud to show a worn out picture of his family.

The most courageous people have already opened their shop or selling vegetables on the ground onto a woolen carpet. Wandering dogs, when not enjoying the first rays of the sun, come to you hoping for some food or a few caresses. Little by little streets are enlightened by the shining golden envelope of surrounding dust, giving the place a singular magic.

Unfortunately, Kathmandu is also a polluted city. Even during the morning sweetness, only a few steps are required to notice it. One can quickly find out a spoiled river enveloped by the infect smell of sewers pouring in it. One man’s poison is another man’s meat and one can discover amid the filth a pig litter happily feasting on mommy’s udders…

But Kathmandu is more than anything else a spiritual city. Here pacifically coexist hindus and buddhists (and also a minority of christians, muslims and jews). Buddha is even part of the hindu god pantheon, which is by the way impossible to know because of the millions of gods it contains. Then, every day, numerous hindu devotes offer flowers and food to their divinities in the countless temples sheltered by the city. Buddhists are not in rest. Simple adepts or monks, one can meet them around a stupa, walking clockwise, continuously reciting in a deep and monotonous voice the following mantra : “Om… Ma… Ni… Pad… Me… Hum…”.

It is almost 9AM when the city finally starts to wake up. The sweet and serene Kathmandu is over, now comes the time of the agitated one.

After two weeks readapting to city life, I fell the need to find my connection with nature and countryside again. I remember this place I visited in 2010 where I have been invited to participate in the training of a pack of sledding dogs and where the typical architecture of the villages surprised me. Let’s run away for a couple of days the the Roya valley.

Astride between Fance and Italy, one can feel a very specific mood in this place. The architecture is very close to what we can find in Northern Italy although, when they are not using the local dialect, people speak in French. This, of course, has a logical explanation. Villages like La Brigue, Tende or Saorge used to be part of Italy before 1860, before they become French.

Despite the dull sky and lights being far from exceptional, walking among the dark streets of these villages is a real delight, a kind of a time travel. Walls are sometimes wearing colours, but are mostly dilapidated. Streets are narrow and the surrounding humidity give to these places a specific smell and ambiance. And suddenly you can feel like you are living in the last century. You can almost see peasants wearing the traditional cloth passing by and saying hi. Except for there is no crowd. Actually there is almost nobody here… good for me!

It has been two weeks already since I left the frozen ground of Finnish Lapland. I would be a liar to say that coming back in France had been easy. After such an experience I think everyone would need to take a little bit of time in order to get used to city life again. Then, after two weeks of good food and good wine (French style readaptation therapy), I finally decide to write this blog post, kind of a conclusion of this nordic adventure. Procrastination, I overcame! ;)

On november 17th, I am taking the plane to Inari, Finland. This place is not unknown to me as I already spent a night in its camping last summer. Even if I did not remember Finland as a breathtaking place, I really wished to have another experience in this country, but this time during winter. Once in the plane, I am not really sure what I can expect. The only thing I know is that I will work in a farm and that up there temperature can be cold, very cold. This is not really a problem for me as I pretty much like cold and my brain has already began to create its own trip. These ideas are of course pretty far from reality but, even if I know this, I let him do anyway and enjoy this imaginary adventure. This little oneiric world which adapts as we go along discoveries, this fanciful universe varying over the course of experiences, even if it sometimes lead to disappointments, is one of the things I like the most when I am traveling. There is no way I will deprive myself of it.

I remember the first moments when I am told that I can take care of a little herd of sledding dogs if I want to. I have always been dreaming of working with animals and dogs are probably the best ones if you want to easily develop a complicity relationship. I am pleased and quickly notice that these dogs are not only lovely but also that I will have to take care of nine little sharp-teethed monsters that barely went out of their mother’s belly… quickly followed by three more (from another mother) … and then one more. Which makes a total of 9 + 3 + 1 + 17 adult dogs = 30 dogs!

The same mates are the one which give me the necessary strength and courage to work in the polar cold every morning. They are not the only ones though. Here, human warmth is inversely proportional to external temperature. I quickly notice that among this team of travellers from all around the world a great team spirit prevails. Only a little bit of time will be required until we altogether, “employers” and “employees”, call ourselves a family. A united family whatever how old we are or wherever we come from. A few days ago, or maybe a few weeks ago, nobody had any idea of the existence of each other and now we have become buddy-buddy. There is something magical and utopian in it, but it remains a shared feeling among this little community. We then enjoy every single moment together, but also support each other during the tough times. Because there are tough times. People come here, then leave. The adventure does not last forever and the more you get close to people, the most difficult it is when the moment has come. “This is a bit like a member of the family dies” we used to say, half-kidding… In such moments, we usually tend to think about the good old times, even if the good times are not so far away. But family spirit remains alive and makes these moments easier. Life goes on, good moments as well.

The closer the deadline, the quicker time flies. Then, a few weeks before the inevitable day of the return flight, I am proposed to go to Gamvik, in the top of Norway, to take care of three “house huskies” and two “crazy horses”. I accept without hesitation and am suddenly starting a whole new adventure. Work is easier. However, I have never felt so wild. After two months working with dogs, I must admit that my working suit has become quite smelly. Furthermore, I have to sleep with these three smelly-hairy creatures — yes, these dogs used to sleep with their lady-master before they came here, which meant that I had to do it if I did not want to find the house upside down in the morning :) –. I quickly get caught up in it and the animal part of me becomes more and more prominent. I have become the dog man. However, the kindness of the people of Gamvik coming to discuss with me, even if some of them do not know a word of english, let me keep the feeling that even if I smell dog and am covered with their hair, I am still a human. I am still part of the same species!

Days are going by peacefully under the light of an ever setting sun on this paradisiac place. I enjoy every single moment as if it was the last (Gandhi, if you hear me!)… until the inevitable day I am told that it is now time for me to come back to Inari if I want to have a chance to catch this darned return flight. Reality catches me up and it is now my turn to leave the family. I can instantly see myself in the same plane that brought me to a whole new adventure in Northern Europe three months ago. I am having hard time realising that this great human experience is now over until I get into the plane, but Nostalgia overcomes as soon as it takes off. I feel happy I had the chance to live this fantastic experience along with these strangers, these friends, this family. I have lived marvellous moments which will definitely be carved in my mind for eternity. Farewell Inari, thank you Finnish family!

This is a common morning. I am enjoying the usual porridge along with a warm coffee. Through the window, I can see the sun waking up behind the snowy mountains, last stronghold of earth before the dark sea that surrounds us. I can easily imagine myself among this stone and ice desert when suddenly my phone rings. Tomorrow I have to leave Gamvik. This is my last chance if I don’t want to miss my flight next week. Sad news, even if deep inside me I knew that this special moment could not last forever.

After the usual journey along with my hairy friends, I take benefit of a quiet evening in order to photograph this little harbor which makes the fortune of the village. Without fishing, Gamvik would definitely not be the same and it would have been a pity not to immortalize this place. After my feet sink into a thick layer of snow, I reach the seashore. Under the wavelets of a rising sea hides a turquoise jewel, a layer of ice which has been formed during the low tide and still resists to the assault of the salt, despite the mildness of the weather. A wonderful color which fits perfectly to the tonality of the moment I am willing to capture.

Magical instants like this go really fast and I quickly find myself sitting in the car on the way back to Inari. I barely have time to think about the good moments spent in Gamvik that I am assaulted by the beauty of the surrounding landscape. I find myself on a mountain road, lost among an infinity of pure white hills. On one side, the sky vary between grey and blue, cold colors of a cloud-covered day; on the other side, the few sunbeams which are able to pierce tint the sky with a pale yellow reflecting on the snow hills, giving them these singular depth and splendor. I am enthralled.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake to let my camera in the trunk of the car and I have to wait for the next stop in order to get it. Fatal mistake and deep frustration. Hopefully, the show continues and some surprises add up : scattered rocks, bushes, reindeer herd, …

A show which lasts for hours and make me forget the nostalgia of the departure. Roads of Finnmark have more than one trick up their sleeve and make me say that they represent to me the most beautiful ride I have made so far. Even if it is already the fourth time I am traveling through Norway, I still have the same envy to come back here, again and again!

– Boost the statistics of your blog, lesson 1 : use the word ‘Sex’ : Check! – 

Joke aside, the original title of this post should have been ‘Sea, Snow & Sun’. Sorry for those who were already dribbling and awaiting for hot and pithy news … even if my hairy roommates (three wonderful huskies) are sometimes pretty up for it! ;)

As I am writing these words, it has already been ten days since I arrived in Gamvik. Daylight gets longer at an unbelievable speed with fifteen minutes of extra sun every day and I must admit that except from one grayish day, the nine others have really been incredible. I was convinced that by coming here, by the Barents Sea, I would experience dull weather, wind and storms, … On one side I would really love to see what a big storm looks like in this place, but on the other side the colors and lights I have the chance to see during the six hours of daily sun are so marvelous that I feel delighted anyway.

Starting from 9:00 AM, the sunbeams illuminate the snow and make it shine with this gold tint I will never be bored of. Snowflakes are sparkling and while some take it easy under the sun, somebody (me) works flat out in order to be able to go and photograph these wonderful lights as soon as possible. Even if golden hours are lasting all day long in this place, the first and last ones remain the most impressive…

Every nook of the village is sparkling like a star. I am naturally walking towards this warm light ball, slowly waking up from its bed made of mountains, precious shelter when it does not dare to show up. On the right side, when leaving the town, I have already located this little path leading to one of my favorite spots in Gamvik. Houses space out, nature gains ground. I am in the middle of this frozen desert, illuminated by the intense beams of a sun getting more powerful every day, and the few remaining traces of humanity look like the testimony of a pacific coexistence between man and nature.

A few more steps and wilderness is now reigning as a master in this peaceful place which thrills me every single morning. Ah! These mountains in the distance!

To be continued …