Imagination or reality, fiction or true story.
Everything blends together, and if the characters really existed, if their story is partly true, I freely transcribed what Surya told me in her English as precarious as mine.
Have I already posted this on vf? I can't find it. Maybe on the small forum Wapiti created to continue our wild stories that went on for pages and pages and no longer pleased anyone on vf.
No matter.
I heard from Bavani—life is crazy, isn’t it?
That’s why I’m bringing her story back.
I’m settling into the -miscellaneous- section; I like being away from the noise.
When the house is overrun with running feet, laughter, arguments, and music, I go to the barn turned into a honey house. It’s cool, it smells of wax and honey, and among the disorder of hive frames, supers, and stacked jars, I refocus.
Here, in -miscellaneous-, no one rants. I can let my fingers glide over the keyboard in peace.
Alright, enough digressions.
At the end of the notebook, I’ll tell you what became of this little girl.
Bavani
“Bavani, stop daydreaming, work.”
I’m not daydreaming, I’m thinking.
My teacher is Surya, and she asked us to write a story.
She doesn’t like us—I heard her talking to the teacher in the little kids’ class.
She said: I stay here because the white people pay better than in government schools, but it’s a shame to teach gypsies. Filthy street urchins.
I’m not a gypsy, I’m a Narikuravar.
Grandmother told me: you’re going to this school, you’ll learn English well, and when you come back, you’ll be richer than the others because you’ll beg better from the tourists.
Grandmother makes necklaces and sells them, but often she sells nothing at all.
There are lots of tourists in my town, Tiruvannamalai.
Before, I lived behind the temple with dad and mom. We had our spot and were happy, especially when mom cooked rice on the brazier. Then we’d lie down, and I’d press my back against mom’s huge belly, and it would move inside. One day, mom told me: stay here, I’ll be back very soon. I waited a long time, and neither dad nor mom came back. After a long time, dad came, and we went to Salem to my grandmother, who’s dad’s mom.
I asked: where’s mom?
“Shut up, two was too many.”
“Two what? He didn’t say.”
So I went to Salem to grandmother’s hut, and there was no rice, and Muriga came to get me with his minibus.
Now I live here. We eat several times a day—yellow rice, then white rice to digest, and eggs and bananas.
And we have to study.
Papom *
.../...
Papom: in common language, it’s the equivalent of -see ya-
I already know this little Bavani will show us a very different side of India from what we might know (only from books, in my case), and I just know I’m going to love reading your posts, Pondy!
__
Miscellaneous? This might actually be the right spot on the forum since we’re not quite sure where or what we’re supposed to post anymore.
Looking forward to the next part of this original—and so beautifully told—"journey"...
un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage...
I am, I was, today, tomorrow, yesterday, thank you, my name is Bavani—all that I can say, and I even understand because Surya says it first in Tamil. But when it’s Annabelle, I don’t understand anything at all because she only speaks English, and it’s awful because she gets angry so fast.
We just sit on the floor, elbows on our desks, and smile.
Earlier, there was a terrible drama.
Balamourigan needed to pee and did it standing up in the hallway that leads to the bathroom, and Surya saw and laughed.
Annabelle saw too and didn’t laugh. She shouted, “disgustingpig,” and yelled at Surya, “hygienehygiene,” repeating that word over and over.
Surya just answered, “Yes, ma’am,” with her eyes on the floor.
White people always say “-hygiene-,” which I think means cleanliness. You have to wash in the morning, at night, your teeth, your feet, your hair.
When I first arrived, they cut my hair down to my scalp because of the bugs sleeping in it that clung on tight. Now it’s grown back a little, and I wear blue ribbons.
.../...
In our dorm, there are forty of us girls, and we each have our own locker. In the morning, we put our mats in another room in a neat pile, take a shower, and go eat idlis and buffalo milk from the buffalo grazing under the coconut trees.
Now, she doesn’t graze under the coconut trees anymore because the cyclone tore everything up, even the school roofs. A lot of kids went back to their families because their parents said a curse had been put on the school.
No one came to get me, and the curse didn’t catch me anyway, and the roof’s been fixed.
We do activities every day. I love singing and dancing the most. It’s Mayanka who plays the harmonium, and we sing along and jump with our arms up.
We also have a pool. A town in France donated the money for it. They didn’t donate any for cleaning, though, so the water’s green like a pond, and we’re not allowed to swim because of hygiene.
After class, Annabelle and Christian take some of the kids for a walk through the village of Madalapet to the beach. I always go because I’m always well-behaved.
Christian stops under the puli-mâ* and plays the harmonica, which is a small instrument you blow into while holding it to your mouth. The villagers come to listen, but they stay far from us because we’re Adivasis, and it’s like we have a disease that’s as contagious as leprosy.
After school, we’d head to the village, and I turned just before the puli-mā thicket—what a shame, the pods aren’t ready yet, but the seeds are so good.
I walked and walked for what felt like forever, and night had fallen by the time I reached Taralakuppama.
I got on the bus. I wanted to find my mom in Tiruvannamalai. I went all the way to the back of the bus, and the man who comes to collect the fare showed up. He yanked my arm—it felt like it was going to tear right off my shoulder—then smacked my head and went to talk to the driver. I had to sit on the floor right up front, next to the engine, and I was jostled the whole way.
Later, the bus stopped in a town, and it was a police station. The officer gave me a smack, spat on the ground, and called me "filth" before making a call—my school’s name was written in big letters on my red T-shirt.
I dozed off a little, and then Muriga arrived with the minibus.
I didn’t see my mom.
Then Amudhan, who does the cooking, pinched my cheek to show he cared—it’s because his name means "gentleness." I sat between his legs, rested my head against his sari, which smelled like coriander, and closed my eyes because I was so tired.
And there I was on Shiva’s chariot, cradled in Parvati’s arms. She rocked me, and I was so high up that the two hundred men carrying the chariot looked like *muriyu*.
I heard the women in silk saris screaming, "Yena assiggama iroukiraye," so I cried, and Parvati caught my tears, turning them into pearl necklaces. She said, "Give these to your mother, and you’ll live with her in a palace." She also told me:
"You’re a Narikuravar, and your ancestors were proud fox hunters. Men love money, and they destroyed your forests to turn them into rice fields. Never forget your roots, and be proud of who you are."
Something soft landed on my face and jolted me awake—a light frangipani flower.
Amuhan had set me down under the tree, and to recapture my dream, I squeezed my eyes shut again.
This little Bavani whisks us away to a land far removed from everything we usually see and read about. Pondy just keeps showing us who these men, women, and children of an India so often hidden in most travel stories really can be.
un chemin et la caresse du vent, alors je pars en voyage...
Today, no school because it's Sunday. We ate ladyfingers and crispy pooris.
Annabelle says ladyfingers taste like asparagus—lucky her, I don’t know what asparagus is.
It’s really hot out, so we’re having a carrom tournament under the veranda in front of the canteen.
We’ve got four carrom boards, and we play four to a board.
I love carrom, and I’m good at it. I make the cut shots and we rack up the points. We pull off moves in ten seconds, just like in real tournaments. My team has Chudaroli, Kâlapam, and Mugilan, and I’m the only girl. Black pieces, white pieces, the red queen, and a well-waxed striker—we’re gonna win.
Kâlapam says he’ll be my husband when we grow up. I’m okay with that—he’s strong at carrom, and he wants to be a musician. Since I want to be a dancer, it works out well together.
His name means "father of time," which suits him because his dad, who was a rickshawallah, passed away. He drank a lot of alcohol, didn’t pedal fast or straight, and a bus hit him. His mom kind of disappeared, and Kâlapam used to sell cotton candy that he wasn’t even allowed to eat.
When Muriga told him about coming to a school where they didn’t lock kids in classrooms all day, he said yes.
It’s gonna be hard to be a dancer because you need perfect hands and fingers.
I’ve got two fingers on my right hand that are fused together. Luckily, it’s not my whole hand—that would look like a duck’s foot. Still, it worries me. I tried separating my fingers with a piece of glass, but all it did was bleed and hurt, so I stopped right away.....
.../...
Kâlapam and Bavani ran away. Their description was circulated, but with little hope. They’ve now been swallowed up, devoured by the city.
Bavani’s lined notebook and the children’s red T-shirts were thrown near the school.
That’s how I had ended this story, and my memory had filed all these words away in the box labeled India.
__
But...
Mariane called a few days ago.
Mariane has been my friend for decades.
We worked together for a long time.
She’s Franco-Tamil and moved to Pondicherry 30 years ago.
Today, she lives at the foot of the Nilgiris, near Mettupalayam, on the way to Ooty. At the foot of the Nilgiris, and during the scorching heat, the mountains are a real relief.
Anyway, one morning, completely stuck with a stubborn back at 45°C, she went to the Ayurvedic hospital where she knew they practiced effective massages.
That’s where she met Bavani, whose story I had told her.
A one-in-a-billion chance that it was her.
Bavani had indeed been in a school for white children, and after her escape, a Belgian woman from Auroville took care of her young life. She studied and now works here, at the hospital, as a physiotherapist—the equivalent of a *kiné* back home.
“And there’s no doubt, it’s really her—she also has syndactyly, just like you mentioned.
Bavani doesn’t know what became of Kâlapam, maybe he’s with the other pickpocket boys. When they were caught by the police, she managed to escape.
Un revenant? Non, deux revenants! Tout d'abord, nous voudrions dire: « loin du site, mais pas loin du coeur ». Nous sommes restés bien silencieux, mais non…
Quelle est la meilleure stratégie pour obtenir une disponibilité pour voyager quand on est prof (éducation nationale)? Si vous l'avez obtenue, est-ce facile?…
Je souhaite profiter de mon séjour en Sicile pour retrouver la trace de mes ancêtres. Qui détient les actes d'état civil plus particulièrement les actes de…
Je viens de me créer un compte pour vous poser une question. Alors voilà, moi et mon cousin on se demandait si on pouvait aller en vacances tout en sachant que…
Regarding the amount of tobacco you can buy during a trip in the European Union and bring back to France, we can't really talk about a "duty-free allowance," because the rules around how much tobacco you can bring back to France aren't straightforward at all under French law.
Hello everyone! 🙂🙂,
A BIG thank you to all the travelers who sent us postcards this year—my students are becoming real geography whizzes!!!!!!!! I’m renewing my call for your kindness this year! We’re also working on food, so if your postcards can make our mouths water with local dishes, traditional meals, or typical recipes, that’d be amazing!!
Here’s a quick recap of the project:
I’m reaching out to all travelers and globetrotters 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 starting a school journal project that will involve the kids in many different topics. A big part of the journal will focus on opening up to the world, diversity, travel, countries, culture...
I’m launching a call to invite as many of you as possible to send us a little postcard (from France or anywhere in the world!) to take us on a journey and help us discover new places, countries, and horizons—much more fun and exciting than a regular geography textbook! One section of our journal could be called "We received mail from " and would be an opportunity to research that location and share what we learn with our readers (a super enriching activity in class).
The project starts in September 2025 but has no real end date, as this journal and world discovery initiative will span several school years (the kids stay in my 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 traveler friends. Make us dream, take us on a journey!!!
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(s)! Below is our address. Feel free to leave your own address on a corner of the postcard if you’d like us to write back! 😊
The ULIS program students
Bonnat Elementary School
12 rue Georges Sand
23220 BONNAT
Thank you, and see you soon, I hope! 😁
Julien
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.
