Results for "Batam+|+8+>+188"
1714 results found.
Autotour dans le Yucatan au Mexique English translation pending
bonjour,
je projete de partir 15 jours en janvier ou février faire un autotour dans la province du yucatan, je voudrais avoir des infos au niveau du risque pour les bagages et les personnes, connaitre l'état des routes et le cout de la vie, peut on partir qu'avec des euros. je compte faire le circuit sur 8 jours et 7 jours de repos sur l'hotel le shangri la. si vous avez des infos et des conseils il seront les bienvenus. mon espagnol et mon anglais sont un peu limites est ce que les mexicains parlent un peu le francais !
je projete de partir 15 jours en janvier ou février faire un autotour dans la province du yucatan, je voudrais avoir des infos au niveau du risque pour les bagages et les personnes, connaitre l'état des routes et le cout de la vie, peut on partir qu'avec des euros. je compte faire le circuit sur 8 jours et 7 jours de repos sur l'hotel le shangri la. si vous avez des infos et des conseils il seront les bienvenus. mon espagnol et mon anglais sont un peu limites est ce que les mexicains parlent un peu le francais !
Travailler sur un bateau de croisière English translation pending
Bonjour, Je recherche des infos ou contacts pour travailler sur un bateau de croisiere. Merci de me raconter vos experiences parce que je n'arrive pas tres bien a m'imaginer la vie a bord! Elodie
Villages around Hazaribagh in West Bengal
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.
Encore trois jours aux Philppines avant le retour...quelques infos météo en août English translation pending
Bonjour,
Dans 3 jours le grand retour en France, mon périple de éà jours se termine, alors juste qques infos météo pour ceux qui partent bientot...
- Sommes arivés le 9 aout a Manille et effectivement , beaucoup de pluie et de zones innodées. Notre montée en van de jour vers banaue s'est passée a peu pres bien, le plus dur fut les premiers 50 km, notre chauffeur a du eviter les zones innondées
- A Banaue, quelle chance , grand soleil !!!! 3 jours a crapahuter dans les alentours de <batad et un soleil radieux. Juste une averse d une heure un AM
- 2ème étape Coron et là , la cata .... pluie , pluie pluie ..... impossible de sortir en mer.
Et Coron sous la pluie , c 'est pas top ...
J'avais prévue de relier Coron : ElNido en fast ferry (Montenegro 4h) : Mauvaise surprise, en cale seche pour é mois !!!! On se replie vers les bangkas traditionnelles (7 à 8h) : 2ème mauvaise surprise : Interdiction de prendre la mer !!!! On imagine deja qu on va finir nos vacances a Coron sous la pluie .... Heureusement on decouvre un vol Phil Express Coron / Puerto Princess, décollage a 12h. Dès notre arrivée a PP, On négocie un van privé (pour 2) direction El NIdo car notre hotel est deja reservé la bas (Prix 12000, soldé à 8000, négocié à 6000 et payé 4000 car je propose a un jeune couple de payer 2000 pour partager le van)
- El NIdo (nous sommes le 16 : Grand soleil inespéré !!!! un temps magnifique !!, 2 hopping islands A et C EXRAORDINAIRES (Nous sommes quasiment seuls dans tous les coins a visiter)
- 4ème étape : 4 jours Siquijor : A nouveau super grand soleil et tjr tres peu de touristes.... Un grand coup de coeur et ce sera 4 jours de motorbiking island !!!
- Nous sommes actuellement a notre derniere etape : Boracay (Et oui on a vouly voir Boracay...) Météo mitigée: Tres nuageux et pas mal de pluie pour l instant... Nos impressions sont plutot mitigées sur Boracay mais j y reviendrai plus tard. Pour l instant le truc le plus moche : Il y a beacoup de vent et pour se proteger , presque tous les hotels et restaus de bord de plage on dressé des barricades de 4 m de hauteur en bambou et en film plastique entre la plage et le passage piétons .... c es affreux...mais efficace.
Voila ce ne sont que qqs infos météo sur les 5 étapes de notre voyage qui se termine...
Voila ce ne sont que qqs infos météo sur les 5 étapes de notre voyage qui se termine...