"Hi Mamido, it's Clémence."
Clémence, 5 years old, is a giggly, cheerful little girl and the queen of mischief.
"Mom says we're coming to your place until the holidays because we're on vacation tonight."
"Yes, I know. She asked me—do you know why?"
"Because of the croronavirus."
"And do you know what that is?"
"Oh yeah, at school Théo told me it's like a louse that doesn't itch, that doesn't get in your head but in your lungs, that it's all round with red bumps like raspberries, and that it makes old people die."
"Your friend knows a lot of things."
"His dad showed him a microscope picture, and you—are you old?"
"What do you think?"
"Well, yeah, but only a little because you always leave on your motorcycle to travel. Are you going traveling?"
"No, because you're coming with your brother and sister."
"Can we go to the little bridge to look for frog eggs? You remember, there were some last year, and we'll make them grow and put the baby frogs in the washhouse, and we'll also make boats to put in the stream so they can go to the sea."
"That's a great idea."
"And you'll make me the model in print letters so I can write which country my boat is going to."
"Where do you want your boat to go?"
"To the land of pandas—is it far?"
"Oh yes, very far."
"Then we have to make the boat strong so it doesn't sink."
"Promise, we'll have so much fun."
"Mom says in some countries they wear masks. Do you still have the chicken, rabbit, and pig masks in the attic? Can we wear them like that?"
"You know, here there are only trees, birds, and fields—we'll do whatever we want."
😉Don’t freak out over eleven grandkids—two of them still can’t talk yet!!
WhatsApp message!
My big little girl, an active high schooler, calls out to me:
"You there?"
"Yep"
"Can I call you?"
"Sure, that’d be great"
Vrmmm, vrmmmm
"Mamido, you okay? Not sick anymore?"
"Nope, all better"
"Maybe you had the virus?"
"Maybe, but we don’t know for sure. So, your school’s closed?"
"Yeah, we’ll have classes online, but I’m calling ‘cause I’m so bummed"
I hear her voice shaking—oh no!
"You know, we were supposed to go to Moscow for our dance show, and it’s canceled. It’s not fair—we’ve been rehearsing for months, we were totally ready, and now no show. Plus, we had 10 days to explore, and that’s all ruined. And I was supposed to go on an exchange to Germany, and that’s canceled too. It’s such a bummer, I’m so over it."
"Oh, sweetie, all of that’s just postponed. It’s just a tough moment in your life, but nothing lasts forever, and you’ll see—everything will work out."
"But in the meantime, I’m so done with everything, and Samuel (her boyfriend) and I broke up. I feel empty, you know, Mamido? Like, hollow, and I don’t know what to do."
And she starts crying again:
"All because of this stupid coronavirus. We don’t even know when it’ll end or if it’s even super dangerous. No more cheek kisses, nothing... What are you up to?"
"We’re repainting the shutters, taking care of the bees, the weather’s nice, it’s spring, there’s an election, and your grandpa’s keeping busy."
"Can I come over? Will you pick me up at the station?"
"Talk to your parents first—I’m fine with it if they are."
"Oh, they will be ‘cause I’m so fed up, and it’s not fun at home. The library’s closed, the ice rink and pool too, and my friends don’t want to see me ‘cause we were in Rome during February break, and they think I definitely have coronavirus."
"Let me know later, okay? And you can keep teaching me Russian—it’ll be fun."
"We’ll have to start all over then ‘cause you’re *so* bad at it."
Phew, that feels good—are you gonna do the remaining 8?
Maybe I can whine a little too? :
« My flight to Morocco was supposed to take me south this morning, but unfortunately the borders closed yesterday... Do you think I’ll run into any trouble if I head to Aveyron, Lozère, or Ardèche instead? Will there be a witch hunt for old folks who are just a hair over 70 and dare to drive around? Do I have to sleep in my car during lockdown? 😕
I think I won’t have much time to hang around here anymore!
But let’s keep smiling.
A flock of Chicoufs is on the way...
Five of them, ages 4 to 15, plus two little neighbors. 7—my lucky number.
I actually considered sending a mass email to the kids!
"My rules for the coming days":
(usually, during vacations, we get a list of recommendations—now it’s our turn!)
1) The kids will be confined to the fields and woods, so make sure they bring their boots. It’s been raining a lot, and there’s mud everywhere—I refuse to clean all those little city sneakers.
2) If spring is peeking through, we’re still far from summer temperatures. Make sure they wear warmer clothes than just a long-sleeve tee.
3) Breakfasts will follow a single model: bread, butter, honey, or jam. Same for snacks. No need to bring cereal this or muesli that, yogurt whatsits, or so-and-so’s favorite cookies.
4) Lunch and dinner will be family-style meals, the same for everyone. I won’t cater to individual tastes. If they like it, great; if not, they’ll eat better tomorrow.
5) There are 2 computers, and the older kids’ lessons will be done in shifts.
6) The older ones will help the younger ones—and they’ll have fun doing it.
6) We’ll allow 1 hour of cartoons and movies per day.
7) We’ll collect phones at 9 PM—warn your kids, even though we’ve already told them. The kids’ library is well-stocked.
8) Our house will be a hive, and that’s awesome. In a hive, everyone pitches in, big and small.
We’re thrilled you no longer see our village as the middle of nowhere, deeply happy to help out and savor all these moments with the little ones!
At lunch and dinner, it's the same family-style meal for everyone. I won't cook to suit each person's taste. If they like it, great; if not, they'll eat better tomorrow.
I only have two, but they don’t like the same things (except pasta), so two different meals🙁
You’ve trained them well!
We’re delighted you no longer consider our village the pits
I’m still laughing about that.
Hugs, Pondy, and good luck with your little rascals.
The little ones set up a Playmobil campsite. "Mamido, no, don’t walk there—you can see that’s where we sleep, and over there’s where we eat. Watch out, you’ll crush the horses!"
The older ones are pretending to work, but I can hear the sound of their friends’ notifications!
Yesterday, we took a walk in the forest and collected moss, lichens, bits of wood, and pebbles to build a miniature forest in a big cardboard box. Armed with two magnifying glasses, the little ones examined tree trunks—and of course, there were arguments.
"He won’t lend me his ladle!"
"Not a ladle, a *magnifying glass*!"
The older kids were testing suction boots in the mud—yum!
For the little ones, I wonder why shoe manufacturers make boots with such short shafts. Water rushes in within two seconds.
"Yes, your boots are full of water. We’ll empty them, and your wet socks will be all warm in ten minutes."
At lights out last night, I let out a sigh of... relief. Mission accomplished.
Shouts, laughter, running around, big appetites, lots of little joys.
Not a word about Covid, not a single question—they feel like they’re on vacation. Strange vacations, outside the usual anxiety and endless news cycle.
Periwinkles are blooming, buds are swelling, nature is rejoicing.
Yes, we’re lucky, and I’m thinking of all those who are struggling.
Tomorrow is another day...
So, should I keep going? If it amuses you, it makes me happy too.
Today, Wednesday, sunshine, blue sky, the seven dwarfs are in great shape (not a single one is sneezing), no homeschooling this afternoon! Imagination is spreading its wings and traveling since yesterday!
Big show on March 21st under the Roof of the World (poster in progress)
(that’s what they call the attic for every show):
Sujita’s Day in India
The little troupe is busy.
Big Little Girl is the mastermind behind the theme, will be the undisputed heroine, and Invisible Fairy, 10 years old (yes, Timouss 😉), our budding writer, has put aside writing her historical novel—as she calls it—(Marie Adélaïde de Savoie, you know, that little girl married at 11 to save the kingdom) to write the play’s script.
The sets are homemade (thanks to the piled-up cardboard boxes), the costumes too (sheets, saris), and the girls’ makeup—so essential, as you’ll agree—is tested well before the performance. I laugh at the big dot in felt-tip on her forehead! I spotted the four little boys begging for string "because the girls said we’re gonna have a skirt like the Indians." They were sporting a mustache drawn with careful vertical strokes in black felt-tip (splendid!)
A closed-door performance without parents—just this once.
The youngest ones are cutting out the entrance tickets. The paint came out (phew, it’s water-based), and they need to paint a rice field. I can clearly see a river—let’s wait for the girls’ verdict...
We need to build the hut; it’s set in the countryside.
I hear the exclamations up in the attic; I’m not allowed to go see. We’re the only two future spectators, so of course, it’s a surprise.
They ask me for safety pins, glue, scissors, and the kids keep going up and down, sent by the older ones who are way too lazy to climb the stairs every five minutes.
We’re going on a trip in a few days!!
Promise, parents, the older ones are logging into their middle school and high school, and they’ve received lessons and homework, and I’m keeping track of the little ones’ worksheets—well, *them*, uhhh, not so much!
PS: I’ve got a hilarious anecdote about toilet paper—I’ll tell you tomorrow, gotta run...
A huge thank you for these "breaths of fresh air," dear Dom! I’d love to attend the show under the "Roof of the World" promised by your adorable grandkids... but you’ll tell us all about your evening so well. Warm regards to Tutti.
Fabricia -
Comme une eau, le monde vous traverse et pour un temps vous prête ses couleurs... ("L'Usage du Monde" - Nicolas Bouvier)
Thursday, beautiful weather, the household is still quiet, and quickly, before the breakfast rush, I’ll whip up a few snapshots for you.
What are we talking about around the table?
The bees emerging from their winter confinement and happily buzzing around the blooming cherry trees and wild roses, returning to the hive with yellow, pollen-heavy legs. About their perfect organization, just like at home. The kids puff up with pride.
About school possibly staying closed until summer break—that’s everyone’s wish.
About the importance of keeping up with lessons and following classes: “Yes, yes, we’re doing it right, huh, Mamido.”
About people who panicked over food shortages and rushed to the stores, even stocking up on toilet paper.
About the ban on going out to protect ourselves and others, and how tough that must be in cities: “Yeah, but we can cross the field to go to the forest and the river. At home, we couldn’t do anything—we’re lucky.”
Questions fly about other countries and whether we grandparents will still be able to travel far by motorcycle.
About the radishes I split into quarters, which by mealtime open like flowers and “are way better than at home.”
About their boyfriends and girlfriends—quick, change the subject because the older girls hate when the little ones spill their secrets.
There’s a buzz of activity, I’m telling you.
The toilet paper story:
The other night, Jean, our farmer friend from down the road, brings us a dozen eggs. Behind our wall, it’s his field and forest—the kids’ dream spot. He comes in and sits at a safe distance to sip a thimbleful of samogon (we’re already finishing the bottle!!).
The little ones giggle about pee-poop, and Louise says they’re silly and that when there’s no more toilet paper, they’ll see what it’s like to have poop on their hands.
And our Jean says, rolling his r’s: Around here, they say a Morvandiau doesn’t roll pearls—he rolls stones, precious stones.
“Kids, you won’t run out. Here, we’ve got the leaf of the Morvan!”
Little Arthur asks, “What’s that?”
“A leaf that never wears out.”
“Even if you throw it away?”
“Even then. It’s a tough commodity, I’m telling you.”
“Where do you buy it?”
“Oh, you don’t buy it—it’s free.”
“Whoa, too cool.”
“In the city, you buy it at the end of the year, and it comes from us. But here, you just pick it.”
“But where do you find it?”
We’re all intrigued, young and old—the punchline comes fast.
“You go into the woods with pruning shears and cut what’s called *aigueuriau*.”
“????? general confusion”
“Holly.”
The youngest don’t get it, but we laugh. Oh, holly is definitely unbreakable!
He stands up, tips his cap to greet us all, and says to the little one scratching the eggshell to get the tiny feather: “You’re gonna *aibouècher* it.” The kid got it right away!
I’m exhausted.
The hive is buzzing with energy.
--
We hopped over the low wall.
They scatter across the field
With knives!
The instructions are clear and simple: the 4 kids with knives don’t run.
You crouch down, pick your spot, plant the knife at the base of the root, twist your wrist, and pop it in the basket.
Only pick the young shoots—tender green, no flowers, not even buds.
In twenty minutes, the basket’s full of dandelions.
I collect the knives.
At lunch: dandelion salad with sizzling bacon.
"Eww, we’re eating grass—I’m gonna tell Mom you made us eat grass!"
--
"Mamido, do you realize if there’s no one in the streets, there won’t be any attacks?"
"When are Mom and Dad coming?"
"Sidonie told me her dad’s sick and has to stay in his room, and she can’t see him."
"Can we make salt dough to make chapatis for the show?"
"I heard we can’t go to the beach anymore."
"Can we go in Jean’s field and forest?"
"Can we watch Grimm’s fairy tales as a movie?"
"Where’d you put Dad’s micro-machine bag from when he was little?"
"He cheats at Uno—I don’t wanna play with him anymore."
"Is it gonna be long before the virus dies?"
"Why’s the virus everywhere in the world? They say ‘coronavirus,’ but there are billions of coronaviruses."
"Is it like the plague?"
"Do you think the Easter bells will still be able to fly by?"
And it hasn't even been a week—they're tireless, these little ones. I hope it doesn't last too long, or you'll end up in the ER.
But they're hilarious (I loved it: "I'm telling on you, you're making us eat grass" 😉😉😉
I'm afraid the Easter bells will stay in Rome this year.
Between homeschooling, Uno, Liar’s Dice, checkers, Game of the Goose, and Little Horses, 1-2-3 Sun, meals, laundry—the time slips by fast, so fast.
As I’m frantically typing away, the whole house is asleep.
Homme popped two brioches in the oven, and from my desk, I can smell that unique scent from my childhood.
On Saturday, the show—whose exact title was *A Day in the Life of Sugita* (apparently, that name means "joy")—was a hit.
I promise, Fabricia, I’ll tell you all about it.
I laughed a lot, and it felt good because I’ve had enough. Not of having all these little ones around, but of the responsibility.
When they’re all in bed and I hear whispers and giggles, I sigh with relief. Phew, another day without incident just passed.
Then yesterday, when Grande Petite-Fille’s hysterical scream echoed, my heart skipped an unpleasant beat.
I had just gathered the younger ones.
I’d piled the clean laundry on the table, and their task was to sort the little underwear, socks, and T-shirts.
Laundry drives me crazy in ways you can’t imagine.
Anyway, I rushed over.
"Mamido, there’s a cow in the garden!"
Grande Petite-Fille, 15, is no longer into hay, calves, chickens, or anything resembling country life. She’d rather chat with her friends about that *so* cool clear gloss, the *sooo* cool blue nail polish her mom won’t let her have, or how *too* hot Gaspard in 11th grade is, etc.
So a huge white cow in the garden? Unacceptable horror—enough to keep her from setting foot on the grass again.
How this lone cow got in, I’d find out later.
For now, with a broom handle, I nudged the easygoing cow—separated from the rest of the herd—back toward the village lane, where they were heading to their first spring pasture. A herd that seemed overjoyed to stretch their legs after a winter cooped up in the barn. They trotted close together, making their way toward the lush grass of the field. (Thanks, Jean, for choosing that other field instead of the one behind the low wall you saved for my little ones.)
Félix, well-versed in the mandatory paperwork for outings, shouted:
"Hey, cows, you don’t have your papers, and you’re too close together!"
Once the cow rejoined her friends, the garden was unharmed—except for a few crushed daffodils and a steaming cowpat on the green grass, left as an offering. "Mamido, can we make pancakes to build a fire?" Félix asked. I realized my grandkids hadn’t forgotten the stories I tell them about India, and that made me happy—but now I needed to figure out why the gate was left open.
A chorus of "It wasn’t me!"
Pouting, guilty faces.
Jules, head down, calmly picking his nose.
"You got something to say, Jules?"
"I wanted to catch Clochard, who slipped under the gate."
Clochard is the neighborhood cat—everyone’s and no one’s. He eats from every trough, loves every human, and visits anyone he sees outside.
At our place, the kids call him Clochard; for everyone else, he’s just *Chat*.
I felt angry, thinking about that open gate and imagining—at lightning speed—all the dangers.
Come on, Pondy, take a deep breath. The incident is over. I raised my voice, matching the level of my fear.
"The gate must stay closed. Always."
Of course, we’re responsible for our grandkids—we know it deep down, all the time, and sometimes, it’s *so* exhausting.
It's nice being all the way down at the bottom of the forum—I'm effortlessly keeping the required meter of distance! 😉
Is my little kids' world shielded from the flood of information that's overwhelming daily life?
Yes, I think so.
Is it a big deal if the kids don’t know the number of deaths worldwide, the number of infected people, or the deadly danger looming?
No, life goes on because life is what makes us vibrate, what gives us chills of joy.
Last Sunday, Jean called:
« If you want to come, there’s a cow about to give birth »
I alert my troops:
« Who wants to come? »
The Eldest:
« No, it’s gross, we’ve already seen it »
Jules, jumping up and down:
« Me, me! »
Félix:
« Me too, me too! »
Louise:
« That’s so cool! »
Héloïse:
« Awesome, we’ve already seen it—it’s so beautiful, the baby cow! »
« You say *a calf*, » her cousin corrects.
« Well, I *do* know that! »
.....
That evening during the video call with their parents...
This call is always a hassle—we’re a bit like we’re being supplied by crows out here, and half the time, the connection cuts out...
Jules:
Excited, words tumbling out at lightning speed without taking a breath:
"We saw a baby cow! Jean said not to make noise because the cow wouldn’t lie down if we talked loudly. She had a pink balloon attached to her backside, and then the other cows got in front of her and started pushing, and then on the ground there was a tiny white calf—bigger than a cat, though—and Jean said that right now, we had to give it a name starting with R, and Louise got to pick the name. I wanted *Rcule*, but Jean said that wouldn’t work, and Louise said *Roméo*, and that was okay. And in just a few days, he’ll go out in the field, and we’ll be able to watch him grow for a long time because we’re not allowed to go back home."
For a minute now, there’d only been his mom’s laughing face, frozen by the dropped connection.
But Jules kept going, unstoppable:
« I didn’t do math today—Mamido didn’t feel like it—and I didn’t brush my teeth this morning. Mamido said it’d be okay and I’d do it tonight. Can I talk to Dad? » (Lucky me, huh, what a little snitch!)
Being born, growing up, being generous, kind, and respectful—that’s what living is all about, kids!
Thursday: blue sky
mood: torn between blue and red
Yesterday, Hubby hid in the barn—he’s had it with making paper airplanes, cutting twigs to build rafts, and basically being bombarded nonstop. So we tweaked our Grandparent Charter a bit:
- From now on, each of us gets one hour a day to ourselves while the other handles all seven kids alone. -
Those little rascals are bursting with energy!
Sometimes they really test my patience, though.
Case in point: yesterday afternoon, free time—it’s Wednesday, the older ones are doing their "physical activity" (limited to nimble thumb movements on their phones). It was quiet, *too* quiet. And everyone knows when kids are silent, something’s up.
I put down my book (rereading *Life Is Elsewhere* by Kundera—pure delight) with a sigh.
"Where are the little ones?"
Uninterested "dunno’s" in response—*that* gets on my nerves.
"For crying out loud, get up and let’s look for them!"
We search the house: closets, cupboards, under the beds—four kids vanished.
Hubby’s in the barn, now a makeshift honey house, building new frames for the hives:
"Seen the little ones?"
"Nope!"
The gate’s closed, and no one’s frolicking in the field behind the wall.
Under the barn, there’s a vaulted cellar—dark, damp from trickling water, with a dirt floor. The kids hate it, never go there, and the access via a rickety, slippery stone staircase is enough to deter anyone.
But there they are, the little troublemakers, socks caked in sticky brown dirt, armed with two flashlights and a butterfly net.
"Shhhh, Mamido, we’re gonna catch ‘em!"
"You’re coming back up *right now*."
"But I’m telling you, they’re awake!"
Jules, pointing an accusing finger with a filthy nail (ugh, when did his nails get *that* black?!):
"He’s the one who said bats have the virus in their wings—his dad told him first!"
Félix adds:
"And we weren’t gonna kill ‘em, just catch ‘em and take ‘em to the forest ‘cause trees aren’t like people—they don’t get sick from the virus."
The little mischievous boy who’s here every day with his brother bursts into tears:
"Jules said the bats were down here in the cellar—I didn’t even know!"
"Enough, boys—let’s go back to the house."
The four kids trudge up the stairs, clinging to the wall, muttering "this sucks so bad" under their breath.
I explain that the bats in our cellar are called pipistrelles—they’re tiny, hibernate here all winter, and leave in spring to have their babies. I hope they woke up on their own and the kids didn’t disturb them.
They’re protected little mammals, super helpful for eating mosquitoes, and no one really knows if they carry the virus.
Alright, that’s enough—wash your hands, Jules, scrub those nails, and everyone to snack time!
The little voice in my head whispers spitefully: "You’re getting old!"
Have a great day!
And thanks for the little comments—they’re my smiles.
🙂 Morning delight: "The little rascals" have struck again! A big thank you, dear Dom, for all these adventures with your lovely tribe! It’s such a treat to read you... Have a wonderful day, everyone.
Fabricia -
Comme une eau, le monde vous traverse et pour un temps vous prête ses couleurs... ("L'Usage du Monde" - Nicolas Bouvier)
This chronicle is such a joy...
Every morning I can't wait for the latest updates from Pondy and his 7 little rascals—I'm stuck in the deafening silence of a house without grandkids...
" Nous ne saurons jamais tout le bien qu'un simple sourire peut être capable de faire."
Mère Teresa
Friday, I’ve lost count of which day of this childish confinement it is!
Blue sky
Blue mood
Joy
The frog eggs had been quivering in their jelly for days.
The yellow basin doesn’t appeal to Big Little Girl at all—she finds it especially gross (even though she loved it in other years!).
But without exception, the others rush to the basin after morning chocolate, only to say disappointedly, "There’s nothing, just that slimy stuff with black dots."
But this morning, it’s euphoria—shouts of excitement:
"Come see, Mamido, they’ve got tails, we need to feed them!"
"Maybe they’ll turn into big toads with warts."
"Can I touch them?"
"What do we feed them?"
"When will they get legs?"
"How does the male frog make eggs with the female when she keeps jumping around?"
We all sit down on the rug for a little biology lesson—what we used to call a "lesson of things."
I even remember having to nail a frog to a board and dissect it.
I didn’t tell them that.
"The tadpoles just hatched, now they’ll grow fast, and tomorrow we’ll see their gills, which look like little wings attached to their heads.
They’re not toads because toad eggs look like necklaces wrapped around river grass. We’ll feed them cooked lettuce, nice and tender, and when they’re stronger, bits of carrots and leeks.
In three weeks, they’ll have legs, but before that, I’ll change the water because they’ll dirty it with their tiny poops (giggles). The water shouldn’t be too cold, or they’ll get sluggish and won’t grow.
And in a month, if you’re still here, we’ll gently put them back by the river so they can be free."
"Yesss, we’re staying until freedom!"
And Félix, very scholarly:
"Mamido, you forgot about the predators that will eat them."
His sister, serious and solemn:
"It’s the food chain, it’s normal."
How I love their wide, attentive eyes, how I love their hunger to learn—these are magical moments!
__
It makes me happy to send these tiny, timeless moments in the morning before the rush, and even happier when I see your messages.
Thanks Pondy for this morning breath of fresh air—it feels amazing! We’d love to plan ahead for a month from now... and reclaim that freedom like the night owls 😄. Hang in there with that lovely crew!
Saturday: blue skies, no homeschooling, and a lazy morning for my ferrets.
I’m so happy to read your messages, to know that my little daily notes bring you joy—and that you even learn a thing or two from them.
Here, on this little thread, everything’s peaceful. No one’s complaining, no one’s trying to change the world, and no one’s getting roasted… except me, just you wait!
--
During meals, the chatter was nonstop.
Gaïané said I was right not to dye my hair and to let it go gray. « Unlike that old lady up in the village who’s 87 and dyes her hair raven-black, and now she’s got this tiny white helmet and has to face the fact she’s old. »
Then the girls were talking about trendy haircuts, how hairdressers would have a ton of work after all this, and so on…
All that to say, the four boys who seemed like they weren’t listening were actually taking *everything* in.
At what I call "quiet time," they set up a hair salon in the attic!!
The older girls who were reading didn’t notice a thing (yeah, right).
I haven’t laughed that hard in ages—the kids were so offended and crestfallen.
I wiped my tears, looked at their wild hairdos, and burst out laughing all over again.
The damage is irreversible, but it’s no big deal. This country lockdown is going to be so long that their hair will have plenty of time to grow back.
In my hysteria, I’d forgotten about the parents of the two little ones who go home in the evenings—and then *bam*!
...
When the doorbell rang, the two little rascals forgot about their spiky hair and rushed to the door:
« It’s Mom! »
I opened it with a big smile, still on the verge of laughing.
« What happened? What did you do, Dom? » she asked in a scolding tone.
Ugh, I felt like I was ten years old again when I replied: « It wasn’t me—they did it themselves! »
« No, seriously, look at their heads. You could’ve at least kept an eye on them. »
Whoosh—I saw red in a nanosecond.
« You know what, Céline? You can keep your kids. Since you’re working from home, you can watch them yourself, can’t you? »
« That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised—they look awful. »
Real nice for the little ones to hear that, huh? But no, they don’t look awful—they just look like toilet brushes (sorry for the expression).
« Don’t you think there are more important things right now? »
Céline deflated like a balloon, gave me a half-hearted smile, and took her kids.
That was last night, and now it’s the weekend. She’ll have two whole days to get used to their new look!
When the door closed, Jules and Félix—little brunette, little blond—said:
« Oof, she wasn’t happy. »
I looked at their faces and thought, « No, not toilet brushes—more like baby bottle brushes. » And the laughter just kept building, building, building!
And I’ll tack on this deep thought from Gaïané, completely out of the blue:
« Mamido, I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I wonder why people aren’t okay with being locked up. Is it because outside is empty, or because inside, *we* feel empty? »
Have a great weekend.
Happiness is so small,
so small that sometimes
we don’t see it,
so we search for it,
we search everywhere.
It’s there, in the tree
that sings it in the wind,
in the bird that shouts it
in the sky,
the river murmurs it,
the stream whispers it,
the sun and the raindrop
speak it.
You can see it there,
in a child’s gaze,
in the bread we break
and share,
in the hand we reach out.
Happiness is so small,
so small that sometimes
we don’t see it,
and we search for it in concrete,
steel, fortune,
but happiness isn’t there,
not in comfort, not in ease.
We try to build it,
but it’s already here,
right beside us,
and we can walk past without seeing it,
because happiness is so small,
it doesn’t hide—
that’s its secret.
It’s here, so close to us,
and sometimes within us! - Maurice CARÊME -
Maybe I’m pushing it, but I was wondering if you’d take two more (weaned and clean)? If so, no worries—no strings attached—I’ll even have them sheared before delivery.
Sunday morning the emperor, his wife, and the little prince came to my place to shake my hand, but since I was gone, the little prince said, "Well, since that’s how it is, we’ll come back Monday!"
But I’m here! Computer’s available.
Oh Lillieone, I know your sister’s a teacher, but you didn’t say if you’re now wearing your braids in a bun like the Countess of Ségur or like Yulia Volodymyrivna Tymoshenko!
Voyajou, we all know the expression "the cup is full!" but is this about a haircut?
Timouss, photos aren’t really my thing—let your imagination run wild.
Fabricia, I haven’t forgotten my promise—I’ll write about the *Roof of the World* show.
And here’s a little delivery!
__
The Parchment
Every year, *Le Parchemin* is our tradition.
Here’s how it works:
Each child draws or writes about a moment from their day that they loved or hated. They write the date and their name. I tape all the sheets together. By the end of the vacation, the strip of paper is huge. We roll it up, singe it (and sometimes even burn it!) with a flame, then tie it with a piece of raffia and add a label with the year. The scroll is stored in the library.
The theme is always free, but this month, I suggested—and they all agreed—to talk about what’s happening in the world. A very short text for the older kids, a drawing for the little ones.
I’ll transcribe their words here, correcting their mistakes but keeping mine—since I have the bad taste to notice errors in others!
Big Little Girl:
"The coronavirus is one of the ten plagues of Egypt, and the world will end in darkness.
No one understands anything, no one knows anything, and everyone’s talking, and I left my city, my parents, my friends.
I’m lucky to be here, but I also feel guilty because life is easy here, and for others, it’s complicated. The world is completely stopped and silent. I won’t go dancing in Moscow, and I’m sad.
At my grandparents’ place, they don’t watch the news, but I do anyway, and it’s not fun seeing all those deaths. I think people who lived through the two world wars were more scared than us because they had the sound of bombs. The virus moves in silence. When it’s all over, we humans will say it’s good to be alive, and we’ll love each other more.
Louise:
I don’t take the bus anymore,
Because of the coronavirus,
I’m in the countryside,
We eat lasagna,
On the screen, I’m at school,
It’s definitely a privilege,
Here I’m not afraid of anything,
With my parents, I’m connected,
It’s a big epidemic,
But one day it’ll be over.
Jules:
I wanted to get the coronavirus so I wouldn’t have to go to school. I hate school.
I can’t get it anyway—I’m at Grandma’s, and we don’t do much school. I play with Félix.
I’m better than him at chess—he tried the shepherd’s trick, but I knew it and attacked with my knights.
We go to the river, and it’s super fun. We’ll always be on vacation—school is too lame.
When Mom and Dad come, it’ll be summer, and my hair will have grown back.
And the germ will be gone.
Héloïse:
I’m good at making up stories, but this isn’t a story—it’s reality.
In my stories, my heroes love each other and have lots of kids. In reality, people are dying because of an unknown virus.
It’s an invisible black bubble that flies over people and stops when it feels like it.
At my grandparents’, I feel safe, but I’m still scared for my parents.
In Paris, some people fled because they were too scared. No one thought about the people who flee when there’s a real war in their country and that’s why they get on boats and cross the sea. A long time ago, in my grandparents’ village, people hid in houses, but even with the virus, no one fled here because it’s the *tdcm*.
Félix:
I already wrote for school yesterday, so I’ll just say the virus is going to land on Earth like aliens.
We taped the sheets together, alternating drawings and texts, and the candle flame did its aging-parchment magic.
Little side note: every kid knows how to write *coronavirus*, and the youngest (5 years old) made a funny drawing—a crown with black dots. "Your crown is pretty—it has lots of little dots." "Well, yeah, it’s a virus crown!!"
We used a red ribbon this time, and Louise made the label:
March 2020, the coronavirus.
Neatly stored with the others, it’ll wait to be opened in 6 months, 10 years, or never…
What a lovely idea this scroll is.
Your little ones and big ones are so mature.
Jules is the most optimistic.
You managed to bring tears to my eyes, Pondy.
Thanks
Monday: Getting Back into the Swing Without Losing Steam
Even if my little stories don’t exactly draw crowds (who’d be interested in a grandma stuck at home with her crew of little rascals?), I promise you, it’s a one-way trip for now, and you’ve gotta hold on tight because the ride’s a bumpy one!
Sunday’s weather wasn’t great for running around in the field. The kids finally got what "lockdown" means—until then, the blue sky and mild air had let them play outside.
The Pump
A string of squabbles, sulking, and I was thinking, "Ugh, they’re driving me nuts," when—bam—the idea hit me.
I hesitated to write about it because it’s not exactly poetic. Parents wouldn’t approve, I know them: "Stop teaching them nonsense." All because three years ago, I showed them how to stick a stick in cow dung—once you break through the dry crust on top, it’s easy!
Anything that feels a little rebellious amuses kids (and grown-ups too). Just look at toddlers giggling over "pee-poo" or older kids cracking up when someone burps or farts. Yeah, even adults—I know some.
And hey, have you seen all the jokes going around about toilet paper?
Anyway, here’s the game. If you’ve got kids, you can try it—it’s simple, active, and fun for everyone.
Materials:
- A mattress pump. We still have ours, even though we haven’t used it since self-inflating mattresses came along, and especially since we no longer want to crawl back into the tent on all fours.
- A handful of colorful balloons
- A chair
Rules of the Game:
- Place the pump on the chair
- Have the child sit on the pump
- Give them the nozzle with a balloon already attached
- Tell the child to stand up and sit down
Goal:
- The balloon must inflate until it pops
- The winner is the fastest one
Simple, right? If you’ve got as many pumps as kids, even better.
We all played (except for Hubby, who was the game master!), and the fastest and most efficient was Félix—under 2 minutes!
Proves that weight doesn’t matter—it’s all about tenacity and efficiency.
Every setup: fits of laughter.
Every pop: explosions of giggles.
And when I hear that activities should be educational, fun, and creative, well, I nailed it, didn’t I?
And when I think of the silky thread of memories they’re weaving these days, I’m overjoyed.
Little wink! When a kid wants to help, keep an eye on them, okay?!
"Who’s making the salad?"
"Meeee!"
And when the sink’s full of suds, no, it’s not the dishes—of course not!
"They said we have to wash fruits and veggies with soapy water."
*Siiiiigh.*
"You say:
— It’s exhausting to take care of kids.
You’re right.
You add:
— Because we have to get down to their level. Bend down, lean over, stoop, shrink.
There, you’re wrong. What wears us out isn’t so much that, but having to rise to the height of their feelings.
Rise, stretch, stand on tiptoe, reach.
To avoid hurting them."
Janusz KORCZAK, prologue to When I Become a Little Child Again
Comme il n'y a jamais rien de vraiment gratuit dans la vie, voici une info qui peut intéresser les détenteurs d'une carte Revolut. Pour l'instant cela…
Je pense que ça serait un plus pour voyage forum d'avoir une apps, et surtout pratique pour les membres en voyage ou qui se sert que de portable ou tablette,…
Mon amie habite près d'Elgin en Ecosse. Elle recherche une femme (avec 1 enfant possible) pour l'aider à s'occuper de ses 4 enfants. (7/10/12/14ans) et du…
Je me présente je suis Cyrielle une jeune femme de 21 ans. Avec mon copain nous voulons commencer à voyager un peu partout dans le monde pour nos vacances…
Etant donné que les très petit paquets se 'perdent' souvent à Cebu.. Je recherche une personne en France pour remettre un petit cadeau à une dame à Cebu pour…
Many of us have noticed that bugs have been making it difficult to navigate the forum lately.
I’ll let Kate and Ticapi explain the issue:
I went to your profile to check out the Thailand travel journal, and when I clicked on it, it brought me back here again. All week, I’ve been dealing with bugs like this—it’s really discouraging from continuing on VF.🙁
I had the same thing happen, and multiple times. For me, it was Montagnard’s latest journal that kept coming up no matter which discussion I clicked on.
BOLIVIA: THE COUNTRY ON THE BRINK (What's Really Happening)
A dramatic saga is unfolding before our eyes in the Andes. Between suffocating blockades, clashes, an international airlift, and historic political decisions, Bolivia has just experienced 48 hours of rare intensity.
Here’s the full breakdown (economic, social, and political) of the last 48 hours:
For travelers and tourists: the article also includes an important note about the upcoming publication (starting tomorrow) of the precise status of roadblocks, route by route.
I’ll post the full update here on Voyage Forum!
Don’t miss this in-depth analysis. History is being written before our eyes! https://www.petitherge.com/bolivie-paralysie-et-ultimatum
I just discovered a great show on Arte.
It's called "7 en route": seven young European journalists travel around Europe in a fully converted bus, making reports on every city they visit. It's amazing! 🙂
Yesterday, for example, they were in Rome, Italy, and the reports included things like the world's smallest restaurant—a super romantic spot for two. There was also a report on the king of paparazzi in Italy.
They have to pick topics that let us discover the little quirks of each country. And at the end of each episode, we get to see the finished report.
It's such a great show, mixing journalism, travel, and discovery—basically, a must-watch!
It airs in the evening starting at 6:50 PM (I think), and it started this past Monday, July 14th.
If you watch it, let me know—we can chat about it!
I left my heart’s country eight days ago and returned to my adopted one—or was it the other way around? Scotland-Morvan, Morvan-Scotland, I’m not quite sure anymore.
After a quarter without dragging my slippers around here, even though I’d loudly declared I had no interest left in this site, here I am again!
My imagination never stays fallow for long. Just enough time for my inner land to rest. It gets overgrown with fresh nettles, the kind you can pick without getting stung. Then, it’s time to till the fragrant earth and let the story grow.
I hesitated over where to set this story.
Maybe the Highlands, maybe the Hebrides, maybe the Orkney Islands, maybe the Shetland Islands. All of Scotland is myth—easy to embroider.
But in the end, no. I’d almost be too afraid to bare my soul.
The story will take place at home. Simple, practical.
1)
This morning, I was up well before dawn, feeling a bit grumpy, but nothing a bowl of coffee won’t fix. I love my bowl, and no one dares take it. It’s porcelain, edged with intertwined blue flowers. On the bottom, it says "Revol." The factory has existed long before the Revolution. It was my great-grandmother’s bowl. She drank roasted barley from it during the war, then her Leroux chicory.
Last year, a little guy dropped it. My bowl broke into three pieces. A black anger vibrated deep inside me. The little boy was so upset, on the verge of tears. How could I scold him!
I picked up the three pieces and took Little Boy in my arms. His hair smelled of the light, sweet sweat of toddlers. A gentle hug that healed—his budding sorrow and my anger—everything vanished, and time carried on.
Today, my bowl is even prettier. Man fixed it using the traditional kintsugi technique, except he didn’t use gold powder or lacquer but superglue, and he delicately painted the cracks with woad blue. And my bowl is even more beautiful now.
I’m lingering, I can tell—it’s just that a story wraps itself in life, and life can’t be told in the snap of a finger. Life is long. Like in architecture, you start with a rough sketch, called a "sous-cul" (the initial pencil drawing), then you make a tracing, which is the work itself, the one you later carefully roll up in a wooden tube.
Life is like that: you erase, you start over, you use the nub of the pencil until it’s tiny, but you keep going—dreaming, loving.
"Living is a full-time occupation, a unique adventure. Always a surprise and a wonder, which sometimes turns into astonishment. And, from time to time, happiness."*
Alright, enough digressing—this introduction is definitely too long.
Tomorrow, I’ll get to the heart of the matter.
(I hate that expression; it feels like I’m cutting into someone’s skin.)
I’m Yann, a 28-year-old TikToker who loves traveling!
Since I’ve been to several destinations, I’d love to get a flag from each one as a sort of trophy. But from what I’ve seen online, a lot of sites sell them with what looks like really poor quality...
So I’m reaching out to you all to share a site you usually use—help me start my collection! :)
hi there
I’d love to get some opinions—I’ve never used Airbnb before.
They’re offering a key handover via lockbox.
Any tips or advice?
Is it reliable?
Best,
Hi there, I’m Laura, and I’m looking for a few people to answer some questions so I can understand your travel wishes and challenges. It won’t take long—I can chat here, by email, or by phone. Don’t worry, I’m not selling anything! 😊
On this forum, we talk a lot about trekking in the Himalayas, but I’d love to share another side of Nepal: its spiritual, cultural, and religious atmosphere, especially in Kathmandu.
Nepal, much like Tibet and Bhutan, is deeply connected to the Himalayas—the ultimate sacred mountain range. This small country exudes a calming vibe, shaped by a strong spiritual dimension. What I loved most was the unique sensory experience you get there. Walking around temples and tantric monasteries, a distinct scent fills the air—aromatic plants used for ritual fumigation. Locals mainly burn Himalayan juniper, cedar, sandalwood, and other local essences. This fragrant smoke is a way to purify the space and reach the deities, and you’re constantly enveloped in these aromas.
Another striking aspect is the sound. As soon as you step outside, you hear bells ringing in front of temples. People ring them three times before praying to announce their presence to the deities. Nepal is also the birthplace of singing bowls and sound meditation practices. In Kathmandu, you can easily find meditation sessions or "sound baths."
The spiritual dimension is everywhere: a Hindu sadhu practicing asceticism, a lama in deep red robes with his mala, turning a prayer wheel while murmuring "Om mani padme hum." Newar Buddhism, Tantrism, and Hinduism coexist harmoniously in daily life.
For those who love exploring a destination through its culture and spirituality, Nepal is an unforgettable place. What was your spiritual experience in Nepal like?
Hi,
I’m landing in Quebec and then heading to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. I’d like to rent a pick-up. My question is: does this vehicle come with a cover and is it secure enough to store luggage in? I’ve heard two conflicting opinions. Thanks
I just installed the Maps.Me app on my phone. I only recently found out about this app. I’m traveling in 2 weeks and a few days, and I’m a bit stuck on how to use it.
I’m from the Montreal (Quebec) area, and I’d love to know if there’s a kind soul out there who could help me get started and use the app at least minimally.
If there are private lessons available, I’d be interested in those too.
Like many others, I’m overjoyed to hear that VoyageForum is reopening! I’ve been waiting hopefully for this, and it’s wonderful that it’s finally happening!
I just couldn’t bring myself to actively participate in other French-language travel forums—their format and way of doing things never appealed to me as much. I really hope that VF’s structure, categories, and interface won’t change too much despite the handover, because I’m very attached to them. Through thick and thin, the site has held strong—it’s amazing!
In a previous message, François mentioned that there were positions to fill ahead of the reopening, including moderators...
I’ve been eagerly waiting for this and hoping to send in my CV.
Now, after reading the latest message, it seems like the team is already fully formed. But are there still a few spots left to fill?
I’ve been a VF member for 20 years (since 2004). I’d love to contribute to this wonderful adventure as a moderator if VF would trust me with the role. If the team is open to reviewing it, I’m ready to send my CV. Could you let me know the next steps?
I’m planning a 3-week trip to Japan in May with Voyage Privé. The package includes a 5 GB eSIM, but my phone isn’t new enough to support it. VP told me I could buy a SIM card when I arrive at the airport.
Sure enough, I’ve seen online that this is possible with different providers.
I only need it for checking routes, looking up addresses, train schedules, etc.—basically using Google Maps, TripAdvisor, and similar apps. No heavy downloads or major internet use. All hotels should provide free Wi-Fi for that, right?
Has anyone got any tips for me on this? What have you tried, and how much did it cost?
Thanks for your help!
I’d like to know if you can buy reef-safe sunscreen sprays at 7-Eleven. If so, how much do they cost? We’re traveling with backpacks, so we’ll either buy 100ml here or in Thailand.
I wanted to share a really unpleasant experience from our last trip booked with Promoséjours and organized by FTI.
We booked an 8-day/7-night stay in Egypt, from June 8 to 15.
The flight initially scheduled was changed a week before departure to take off at 10 PM from Paris CDG.
In the end, it took off with a 1-hour delay and included an unmentioned stopover in Marsa Alam.
We landed in Hurghada at 4 AM and arrived at the hotel at 6 AM.
So, we spent our first night on the plane.
For the return trip, surprise—the flight was moved up. We left the hotel at 10:30 PM on Friday the 14th to take off at 2 AM and land at 7 AM at Paris CDG.
So, we spent our last night on the plane too.
After sending a complaint letter to Promoséjours / FTI, they replied that the first and last days can be dedicated to transport (which I already knew) and that no matter how many nights you book, you’re not guaranteed to spend them in the hotel—it could just as well be on the plane.
I’m really questioning this.
Isn’t there a law that protects customers in cases like this?
Because when I do the math, the first and part of the second day were spent on transport, same for the second-to-last and last day. And I paid for 7 nights for a stay that only lasted 5.
Anyway, I just want to say thanks to them—thanks to their two sleepless nights in transit, I’m coming back even more exhausted from a trip that was supposed to be restful!
I also want to warn anyone booking through this agency about visas for Egypt.
At booking, they told me the visa was included in the price, then they sent me an email saying I’d have to pay for it on-site at 25 €.
Once there, we were directed to a special line for FTI customers, and guess what? They charged us 30 €!
Basically, they’re great at making sure you *enjoy* your vacation—mostly by enjoying your wallet!
If anyone has dealt with this kind of situation and won their case, I’m all ears.
Hi there!
I’m heading to Thailand for two months.
So I thought I’d get a Thai SIM card to use Google Maps for getting around cities, mostly.
Here’s my question: will this SIM affect my apps? Or will they work the same as with my Orange SIM?
Is there any setup I need to do, or can I just pop in the Thai SIM?
I’d also like to switch back to my Orange SIM now and then while I’m in Thailand—on the same phone. Will I need to reset the phone, or will it reconnect without any issues?
Thanks in advance for your tips!
Best,
Huiclos
Hi, I’d like to know where we can buy beer or wine in Chefchaouen and around Merzouga. We’ll be doing a circuit and staying at the Parador Hotel in Chefchaouen and in a bivouac in Merzouga.
Thanks for any info you can share!
Hello everyone,
I’m reaching out to all travelers and globe-trotters on this forum. I’m a teacher in Creuse working in a ULIS program (which welcomes children aged 6 to 12 with disabilities into a mainstream school). This year, I’m launching a school journal project that will involve the kids in many different topics. A big part of this journal will focus on opening up to the world, embracing differences, travel, global cultures, and more.
I’m putting out a call to invite as many of you as possible to send us a postcard (from France or anywhere in the world)! The goal is to help us "travel" and discover new places, countries, and horizons in a way that’s much more fun and exciting than a geography textbook. One section of our journal could be called "We received a letter from ," where we’d research the location and share what we learn with our readers—a really enriching activity for the classroom.
The project starts in September 2025 but doesn’t have a strict end date, since this journal and world-discovery initiative will span several school years (the kids stay in the ULIS program for multiple years). Postcards can be sent anytime—throughout the year, across seasons, even during holidays! The kids will find them when they return.
I hope this idea appeals to as many of you as possible, and that you’ll spread the word to your fellow travelers. Help us dream and explore!
For those who’d like to write to us in a language other than French, no problem—quite the opposite!
Thank you in advance for your participation! Below is our address. If you’d like us to write back, feel free to leave your address on a corner of the postcard! 😊
ULIS program students
Bonnat Elementary School
12 rue Georges Sand
23220 BONNAT
Thank you, and I hope to hear from you soon! 😊
Julien
🙂
Hi there! I have to leave Ivato/Antananarivo on December 16th. I have a lot of ariary that I’d like to exchange for euros since I might not be coming back to Madagascar (after this 21st trip). I think the exchange office at Ivato also buys ariary back. If any of you have seen the rate for this buyback in advance, thanks a million!
Hi everyone,
I’m looking for a website that would let me plot my travel route in advance so I can print it out. The idea is to create a map with a little “me” on a bike that my parents can move along as I progress, since I’m planning to cycle all the way to Nepal.
If any of you have done something similar or know of a good tool, I’d love to hear your tips!
Thanks in advance! 😊
I'm looking to buy an ultra-lightweight 50/55L travel backpack with a suitcase or front opening.
Does anyone have any brand and/or model recommendations?
Thanks,
Emma
Hello. We’re a retired couple heading to Sri Lanka from January to March. After the November floods, I’d like to know if we can offer hands-on help to the locals, maybe pack some clothes or other items people might need in our luggage, and who we could give them to. Thanks for any info from those on the ground.
Be careful when sailing between Somalia and northern Madagascar.
It appears to be Somali pirates who have widened their search in the Mozambique Channel, far from their usual attack zone, since, to my knowledge, there are no Malagasy pirates.
Not sure if this is the right section, but just wanted to warn future travelers...
Where’s Cape Vidal?
It’s in iSimangaliso, an independent park in KZN Wildlife, stunning and just a stone’s throw from St Lucia (KwaZulu-Natal, Maputaland).
It’s the beach spot at the end of the Eastern Shores road. You can swim, fish... but watch out for waves, currents, and sharks...
There’s a really nice game drive where you can get out of your car at certain points, especially at Cape Vidal.
That’s where the camp with bungalows and campsites is.
The vervets and samango monkeys (endemic to the area, and the males are pretty big) can be a bit of a nuisance if you’re trying to braai...
They’re super persistent and not shy at all—don’t let them intimidate you, and stay alert because their speed at snatching food is impressive.
Anyway...
I’m reporting two recent attacks by these hyenas... who were *not* in a playful mood...
The first one happened at night—a hyena tried to bite a camper’s nose off in their tent... and succeeded.
The other night, a camper returning to their tent in the early hours was violently attacked by two hyenas... and they had a close call!
So, if you’re camping there, be careful...
Measures are being taken, but for now, it’s a bit risky.
A white rental Toyota Land Cruiser 4x4 carrying foreign tourists was attacked at the entrance of Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park in the village of Bekopaka, western Madagascar, yesterday. So far, there’s been no response from the central government to curb these repeated armed attacks—usually between Malagasy people, but this time targeting foreign tourists.
After an engine failure in mid-2016 on a long-haul flight from BRISBANE to LYON, I developed a persistent aviophobia that I’m struggling to shake off. It’s becoming more and more of a hindrance.
Up until now, I’ve been using an avoidance strategy (for example, avoiding destinations that would require any other mode of transport than a car or train), but lately, it’s become really limiting.
I’m looking for a therapist—either in-person or via video call—who could help me get past this hurdle.
