When I first became interested in photography several years ago, I was focused exclusively on landscapes. I then saw photography as a hobby that could push me to reconnect with nature and discover the beauty of places that were unknown to me, but I didn't care to photograph people. Thus years have passed and as I went on my travels I met people whose way of life, faces or background inspired me. But I didn’t

First part of the story can be found here. The crossing between Dolpa1 and Mugu districts is more than just a jump over an administrative border. We have been walking for eight days, oscillating between 3000 and 5600m in untouched wilderness, watched over by glaciers, climbing treacherous slopes and crossing wild rivers. After some time, the strength of the raw Himalayan nature can feel overwhelming. I must admit I somehow feel happy to finally reach the village

Since I came back from my first trek in Nepal four years ago, I’ve been fascinated by the work of Eric Valli, a French photographer and film maker famous for his work on Dolpo, one of the most remote regions of the Nepalese Himalayas. While researching for this long-term voyage, I was secretly hoping to find a way to get there. Experiencing Dolpo with my own senses was a dream. One day, on my Facebook

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

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,