Incroyable non ?
Quand on aime, big 5 ou pas...😛😉
Encore ceux là, on ne les a pas vus de trop près, parfois ça approche vraiment près...
y compris ces espèces de petites cahuttes où des dames de la communauté Zoulou viennent vendre des souvenirs et des fruits, ça vaut vraiment le coup d'y passer, d'une part pour faire le plein de petits cadeaux chers ou pas et acheter les fruits qui sont délicieux et vendus à un prix dérisoire, bien moins chers qu'au super marché en ville.
Les petits souvenirs faits main sont vraiment très bien.
le vaste séjour ,
la salle à manger donnant sur le jardin tout est parfait.
Même la déco à l'Africaine, qui pourrait paraître déplacée en France est ici parfaitement bienvenue.
La piscine est petite et également trouble, comme à Umkomaas, c'est une épidémie on dirait...de toutes façon, nous ne l'utiliserions pas.
Le jardin est merveilleux, le matin, on y voit gambader les singes, de petits bushbocks et des sortes de mangoustes.
(ça, ce sont les statues des mangoustes...😏)
On y voit régulièrement des hippo le soir, mais nous n'aurons pas cette chance.
Siska se détend considérablement du coup. Un moment, j'ai cru qu'elle allait filer se changer pour enfiler son vieux T shirt et sauter dans ses tongs, mais non, c'est sa tenue de travail.
même à une meute de lions. 
Ça, je demande à voir !
(Le deuxième c'est un bushbock et le troisième c'est un euuuh, un élan de Hartmann...)
Nous prenons une piste sur la droite, totalement 2 WD friendly. Dans un virage je distingue une forme à 50 m, non , 2 formes...
DES RHINOS C'EST DES RHINOS !!!
Où ça ?
Là !
Mais où là ?
Mais là quoi !
Ah, là...ah mais OUI JE LES VOIS !
MOI AUSSI ! BRAVO PAPA ! T'ES LE PLUS FORT !
Ouais, je sais, c'est pas facile à voir ces bestioles, mais avec mon sens aiguisé de l'observation, tu comprends...
WAAAAAA L'EST GROOOOOOOOS !!!! ET PIS Y'A SON PETIT AVEC !!!! WAAAAAA !!!
Ooooooh un phaco ! Trop du bol on a !!!!
Ooooooooooh des buf' !
Et là ! Un koudou des buf' et un zeb' et un phaco EN MÊME TEMPS !!!
C'est quoi t'est-ce que ça dis donc papa ?
Euuuuh...c'est, c'est un calao fuligineux de Hartmann.
C'est euh, un kingfisher fuligineux de Hartmann.
Ah ? Il a découvert beaucoup d'oiseaux Hartman ?
Presque tous en fait...
(Mais maintenant que j'y repense, le premier oiseau était peut être une trumpeter hombill et le second un brown hooded kingfisher)
Nous allons pique niquer à la belle plage de Cape Vidal et nous faisons le chemin en sens inverse, non sans nous arrêter au bird hide, un point d'eau où nous verrons des jabirus.
Et près du lac où l'on voit des hippos.
Vraiment très sympa ce parc, mais nous ne pouvons pas trainer , les hippos, justement , nous attendent.
Nous sommes donc 15 sur notre petite barge couverte, bien content d'être sur un petit bateau alors que les autres sur leur gros bateau à 100 personnes, ha! ha ! les glands !
Nous croiserons d'ailleurs les bateaux en question.
Ils sont 15 à bord...😮
Ha ! Ha ! Les glands...😠
Royaux, condescendants , ils nous toisent depuis le pont supérieur. Encore un peu et ils vont sortir les rollers pour bien nous faire valoir qu'ils disposent de 50 m2 par personne !
On ne fait pas toujours le bon choix en payant plus cher...😕
Mais c'est bien quand même !
Nous commençons par explorer les berges, le guide est très bien , il explique la vie et l'histoire du parc. Nous verrons un giant kingfisher, un bel aigle à tête blanche, un requin bouledogue, enfin , l'aileron d'un requin bouledogue, un beau varan du Nil , un malheureux croco.
Et puis les hippo, là c'est franchement la réjouissance, on peut les approcher très près et dans l'éclairage du soir, c'est un régal ces bestioles, une franche poilade : tout le monde se marre à bord.
Il y a des petits qui jouent sur leur console,
des grands qui ouvrent leur grande guole ,
des gros qui somnolent ,
des grosses toutes molles ,
des moyens qui se désolent d'être des moyens
et nous on rigole.
Quel bol.
( Si quelqu'un pouvait très rapidement me fournir des rimes en "ol" que je puisse caser, ça m'arrangerait bien, pas sérieux s'abstenir, faradole, mongol et allopurinol par exemple, ne sont pas les bienvenus)
Yo talkin' to me ?
Ce soir, on retourne manger au Brazza....parce qu'on aime pas changer...
Et on rentre à pied...parce qu'on aime pas changer...
Wednesday, April 1st
Hazaribagh I’ve got a meet-up with Adam Iman, a guide and painter. He picks me up from the hotel at 10 AM. Another traveler from Bangalore is supposed to join us, but while we wait for him to arrive, Adam takes me to see the paintings his mother and sister created at Hazaribagh station. The town became famous thanks to these murals, which can also be found in several surrounding villages. This art form has earned recognition and is now protected, a sign of its cultural importance. Once the visit is over, we go to pick up the other traveler and then head to our first village: Belwara, where Sohrai art is practiced. At the entrance, a sign proudly announces that we’re entering an artists’ village, where this art is created by women organized into micro-enterprises. Some even offer workshops for those who’d like to learn this tradition.
Sohrai art is tied to the harvest season, from October to mid-November. The motifs, in natural colors, celebrate fertility and abundance. The artists use pigments from the earth: red oxides, ochre, white kaolin, and black manganese. On the walls, you’ll see animals, fish, birds—all symbols of life and prosperity. As I look closer at the murals, I start to realize that each motif tells a story. Large animals like cows or bulls often take center stage. Their bodies are filled with intricate, almost hypnotic patterns. They symbolize wealth and prosperity for the household, as well as the deep respect for cattle, which are essential to daily life. On some facades, elephants stand out—massive and decorated with the same precision. They evoke quiet strength and protection. But it’s when I stop in front of one of the houses that I really take the time to look. The wall, a soft ochre, is entirely covered in murals. Two large animals stretch out on either side of the door, their elongated bodies fitting the length of the wall. Their silhouettes are filled with geometric patterns and incredibly fine curved lines, as if every space was patiently filled. Around them, stylized plants, flowers, and small decorative elements fill every gap. The door, dark and worn, becomes almost the silent center of the composition, framed by these living, protective forms. To the right, a more colorful motif catches the eye—a flower or a stylized lamp—like a touch of light on the earth. The whole thing gives an impression of perfect balance, between the rigor of the patterns and the freedom of the gesture.
Elsewhere, birds and freer forms bring movement. Peacocks, recognizable by their stylized silhouettes, embody beauty and vitality, while fish symbolize water, fertility, and the continuity of life.
On some paintings, the scenes become almost narrative: you can make out figures, everyday gestures, like a memory of the village inscribed in the walls. The decorative frames around the doors aren’t left to chance either—they symbolically protect the house, like a boundary between the inside and the outside world.
During the Sohrai festival, cattle are led into the jungle in the morning. Meanwhile, the women finish the *aripans*—these floor paintings—and continue the wall murals. Around noon, the animals return to the village, and the bulls’ horns are anointed with oil and vermilion in a gesture of gratitude, amid the vibrant colors adorning the houses. We visit several artists, including Parvat Devi, a well-known woman who has received many awards. Her arms are adorned with intriguing tattoos, which I’ll talk about in more detail later.
On another wall, the style changes completely. Here, no massive animals—just birds occupying the space, light and graceful, as if caught in mid-movement. Two silhouettes face each other, their long necks arched almost like mirrors, while their outstretched wings seem to vibrate with the patterns that compose them.
The design is more graphic, almost airy. The lines are smoother, more fluid, as if drawn in one confident stroke. The birds’ bodies aren’t solid—they’re filled with repetitive motifs like scales, stylized feathers, and spirals, giving a sense of continuous movement. Around them, everything comes to life: flowers burst open, arabesques swirl, and even the simplest shapes seem alive. What strikes me here is the sense of lightness. Where the large animals evoked stability and grounding, these birds bring something freer, almost joyful. They seem to embody movement, the circulation of life, like a breath flowing through the village.
The colors remain the same—deep reds, intense blacks, and chalky white—but the rhythm is different. Faster, more spontaneous. As if each wall had its own personality, while still speaking the same language.
That’s probably why I’m so moved. I’d heard about these paintings from my friend Raja, and last year, I saw an exhibition in a village near my home. That first encounter made me want to come here. But seeing them in person is a whole different experience. These paintings are unique. This ancient art is passed down from mother to daughter, or mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, in a quiet, deeply living continuity. At first glance, it might seem almost childlike in its simplicity and pared-down forms. And yet, everything is thought out, balanced, mastered. Nothing is left to chance.
That apparent simplicity, combined with such rich symbolism, touches me deeply. There’s something sincere and essential in these walls—and that’s what moves me.
Hazaribagh I’ve got a meet-up with Adam Iman, a guide and painter. He picks me up from the hotel at 10 AM. Another traveler from Bangalore is supposed to join us, but while we wait for him to arrive, Adam takes me to see the paintings his mother and sister created at Hazaribagh station. The town became famous thanks to these murals, which can also be found in several surrounding villages. This art form has earned recognition and is now protected, a sign of its cultural importance. Once the visit is over, we go to pick up the other traveler and then head to our first village: Belwara, where Sohrai art is practiced. At the entrance, a sign proudly announces that we’re entering an artists’ village, where this art is created by women organized into micro-enterprises. Some even offer workshops for those who’d like to learn this tradition.
Sohrai art is tied to the harvest season, from October to mid-November. The motifs, in natural colors, celebrate fertility and abundance. The artists use pigments from the earth: red oxides, ochre, white kaolin, and black manganese. On the walls, you’ll see animals, fish, birds—all symbols of life and prosperity. As I look closer at the murals, I start to realize that each motif tells a story. Large animals like cows or bulls often take center stage. Their bodies are filled with intricate, almost hypnotic patterns. They symbolize wealth and prosperity for the household, as well as the deep respect for cattle, which are essential to daily life. On some facades, elephants stand out—massive and decorated with the same precision. They evoke quiet strength and protection. But it’s when I stop in front of one of the houses that I really take the time to look. The wall, a soft ochre, is entirely covered in murals. Two large animals stretch out on either side of the door, their elongated bodies fitting the length of the wall. Their silhouettes are filled with geometric patterns and incredibly fine curved lines, as if every space was patiently filled. Around them, stylized plants, flowers, and small decorative elements fill every gap. The door, dark and worn, becomes almost the silent center of the composition, framed by these living, protective forms. To the right, a more colorful motif catches the eye—a flower or a stylized lamp—like a touch of light on the earth. The whole thing gives an impression of perfect balance, between the rigor of the patterns and the freedom of the gesture.
Elsewhere, birds and freer forms bring movement. Peacocks, recognizable by their stylized silhouettes, embody beauty and vitality, while fish symbolize water, fertility, and the continuity of life.
On some paintings, the scenes become almost narrative: you can make out figures, everyday gestures, like a memory of the village inscribed in the walls. The decorative frames around the doors aren’t left to chance either—they symbolically protect the house, like a boundary between the inside and the outside world.During the Sohrai festival, cattle are led into the jungle in the morning. Meanwhile, the women finish the *aripans*—these floor paintings—and continue the wall murals. Around noon, the animals return to the village, and the bulls’ horns are anointed with oil and vermilion in a gesture of gratitude, amid the vibrant colors adorning the houses. We visit several artists, including Parvat Devi, a well-known woman who has received many awards. Her arms are adorned with intriguing tattoos, which I’ll talk about in more detail later.
On another wall, the style changes completely. Here, no massive animals—just birds occupying the space, light and graceful, as if caught in mid-movement. Two silhouettes face each other, their long necks arched almost like mirrors, while their outstretched wings seem to vibrate with the patterns that compose them.
The design is more graphic, almost airy. The lines are smoother, more fluid, as if drawn in one confident stroke. The birds’ bodies aren’t solid—they’re filled with repetitive motifs like scales, stylized feathers, and spirals, giving a sense of continuous movement. Around them, everything comes to life: flowers burst open, arabesques swirl, and even the simplest shapes seem alive. What strikes me here is the sense of lightness. Where the large animals evoked stability and grounding, these birds bring something freer, almost joyful. They seem to embody movement, the circulation of life, like a breath flowing through the village.
The colors remain the same—deep reds, intense blacks, and chalky white—but the rhythm is different. Faster, more spontaneous. As if each wall had its own personality, while still speaking the same language.
That’s probably why I’m so moved. I’d heard about these paintings from my friend Raja, and last year, I saw an exhibition in a village near my home. That first encounter made me want to come here. But seeing them in person is a whole different experience. These paintings are unique. This ancient art is passed down from mother to daughter, or mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, in a quiet, deeply living continuity. At first glance, it might seem almost childlike in its simplicity and pared-down forms. And yet, everything is thought out, balanced, mastered. Nothing is left to chance.
That apparent simplicity, combined with such rich symbolism, touches me deeply. There’s something sincere and essential in these walls—and that’s what moves me.
A little sneak peek?
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.