After a month and a half stuck in my bed and a few weeks of rehab because of a sciatica, this last weekend has been a good occasion to start a harder rehab. Along with my fellow photographer Daniel Paravisini, we decided to go trekking in the Vercors Regional Natural Park in order to climb Grand Veymont, its highest summit. The program was: a 1000m difference of height to be climbed in three hours, around

A bit of nostalgia today. Exactly one year ago, in Boudhanath, Buddhists from Kathmandu were gathering by thousands to celebrate Buddha enlightenment day. During the night, the devoted Buddhists would turn around the stupa 108 times while reciting mantras. It could take until the following morning. However, for the younger ones, this was more an occasion to spend a night with friends and even sometimes date

Getting out of the five layers of woollen blankets, ultimate shields against the frozen nights, does involve an extra effort. As I walk out of the teepee I can see the morning fog crystallising into tiny diamonds that sparkle in the air. As they see me, reindeers stand up straight and stare at me with black and globulous eyes expressing both suspicion and curiosity. My stay with the Tsaatans starts here at the pace of

I didn’t really have time to rest during the few days I spent in Khatgal. Sitting in the car between one of the wrestlers I met yesterday and the frozen carcass of his horse, we drive towards Mörön at the pace of an overloaded car. There, he will sell his meat and I will take a minibus and reach the winter camp of a group of Tsaatans, the Mongolian reindeer herders. Let’s go to the

To say goodbye after such good times under the yurt is a difficult moment. I embrace them and wish the best to their family, and it is with a lump in my throat that I get on Honda's motorbike – no intentional pun here! – towards Khatgal. Tomorrow starts the Ice Festival during which I may have the chance to experience, among other celebrations, an event which the descendants of the Khan are fond of:

Tsagaan Sar or not, daily life continues at the rhythm of winter and even if every single day begins and ends up the same way, it does not mean that they do not come with their lot of surprises. Here is what life in a yurt looks like. The piercing screams of Batchimeg and Barougon, the youngest kids, wake me up and end in the first cries of the day. Luckily for my ears holidays are

A 17 hours trip in a badly heated bus which windows are covered by frost, followed by an hour and a half in a taxi and another half an hour of a freezing motorbike ride. That is the only way to join my hosting family in the middle of the steppe. But I will spare you the details since a significant event happened a few days following my arrival: Tsagaan Sar, the Lunar New Year,