Everybody will have forgotten about Nepal and I would like to do something beautiful about their courage Kathmandu He hitchhiked on a Tata truck filled with big bags of cotton. That was in 1973. As the truck ascended, it started becoming cold. Wrapped in his sleeping bag he peeked to see where he was and saw the sunset, then there were millions of terraces, white and orange houses with thatched roofs and the Himalayas in the background. Mesmerised he wondered, ‘Where am I?’ There were no charters back then and he was not a hippie. He was a 20-year-old traveller looking for adventure. Little did he know that he was about to fall in love and become a storyteller. His love resonates in his work — Honey Hunters, Himalaya or Caravan, Himalayan Gold Rush and many books/films/documentaries and photographs. He is Eric Valli. “I came here and fell in love with the country and an American woman (Diane Summers, his wife), who taught me my English in many ways. We stayed in Nepal. Trekking to Everest and Annapurna was not enough, so I learnt Nepali and went to more rural places.” That was when he published his first book. “I didn’t know I wanted to become a film-maker or a photographer.” So you came here as a tourist? The moment he hears this question, Valli gives an exasperated expression and says, “No, no not a tourist, I don’t like this word, I came here as a traveller. I was in Afghanistan for a year, I couldn’t stay there, thus the journey to Nepal. I have never been a tourist. I like to discover the depth of a country, so I dive into its culture and lived for three years in Dolpo.” And there is no reason why a French cabinet-maker from Dijon fell in love with Nepal. He just did, and still is. How it began “I am a wood worker,” says Valli not deterred from his roots, who is now a photographer, film-maker and a writer. “My father gave me travel books of the great explorers of the 19th Century when I was 12. I come from a poor family, my father always wanted to travel but he did not have the means to.” One day he told his father he wanted to travel — “My father said we don’t travel. I told him he shouldn’t have given all the books about travel then... My father gave me the seeds through the books I guess.” He used to make money through cabinet making, working in a mustard factory, selling different things in the market and spent the amount in Afghanistan and Nepal. After the trip, he returned to France. One day in Paris he showed the pictures to his friends. “My father had given me his camera, I had no training, but I had an eye for it.” And a woman told him to show his pictures to a publisher. He did. His first book was published and “I made 12 to 13 books” with the publisher. He was 26 then. You call yourself lucky then? He looks straight into one’s eyes and says, “The great pastor used to say ‘Luck smiles on people who work hard’. In some ways you create your luck through work and determination. If I had not taken the pictures, there would be no book.” Things fall into place Those familiar with his work will be surprised to know he worked with the world’s most luxurious brands too — Louis Vuitton and Hermes. Expecting some over-the-top answer, Valli only makes one feel silly. “One day I get a call from Hermes. When the best asks you to work with them, it is difficult to say no. I have to like the idea though. They have such a big budget and I can work artistically without a problem. Then I made money and produced my own film like Himalayan Gold Rush.” But still on one hand everything is easy, and on the other you have to work with what is available... He admits “it is completely different”. And he shares an interesting incident. “We (Valli and Summers) met king Birendra in Paris several times and at his palace. Then one day, before Himalaya was shot, we were at the palace. I took a book with me about Dolpo and I offered it to him. He is smoking his pipe and he looks at the book and says, ‘Eric you make me discover the side of my country which I didn’t even know’. Then I thought, ‘Oho this is a great opportunity, do I take it or not’. Most of the time there is a debate in my head but something told me to do it. So I said, ‘Do you realise your majesty that to do this beautiful book I had to go against the law of your kingdom and sneak at night through the checkpost because you wouldn’t give me permission to go to Dolpo?’ Then he smiled. He gave me permission.” It was not easy for Valli in Dolpo. He was arrested and jailed. “It was so frustrating then. I was trying to do something beautiful for the country and no one understood. But ‘he’ did.” Now Valli was honoured by the Nepal Association of Tours and Travel Agents (NATTA) with the Sagarmatha Award for his contribution to promote tourism through his works. But this is not why he is here. He is thinking of doing some work in Nepal. “I came here to check out a few things. I don’t like to come here as a tourist. I like to come here to do things and Nepal may be in need of some help in this odd hour.” What kind of work? “My daughter was here during the second earthquake, so I asked her what can be done. She said, ‘You know Nepal and the people, why don’t you do something about their resilience and courage?’” The waiter comes interrupts the conversation with glasses of water. Valli says in Nepali “Tato pani ho? Rakhidinus teta (Is it hot water? You can put it there),” making the waiter smile. And the conversation continues... “Everybody will have forgotten about Nepal and I would like to do something beautiful about their courage.  I have never worked in Kathmandu, always worked in durgam chhetra, you know remote places. I am writing a lot, meeting people, going to the mountains...” after September 25. What are you writing? “I am writing my next film or the next article. I don’t want to talk about it anymore because I don’t like to talk about things I haven’t completed,” he says holding his thin black notebook with white prints. More than just work Somehow Valli’s works speak to you, there will be fragments that represent you as a human — your virtues and vices. But he is accused of being romantic, which “I prefer being called rather than cynical”. Your films are filled with hope... “yes I would think so even if I am not kind of always hopeful”. Yet he doesn’t make films for the audience. “I don’t make films keeping in mind the audience. I see something and I think it is important to make a testimony of it.” Who do you make your films for then? He thinks for a while and strays off the topic (unconsciously buying time for an answer), then asks himself aloud ‘Who do I do it for’ and says, “Nobody has asked me this question before. I think it has to be done, I think Himalaya for instance, after my death which I think will be soon, will be seen as something not only entertaining, but as a document of the life of these people.” It seems he always wanted to do what he is doing, but nothing was planned — it happened. His passion chose him. “I am not an intellectual, I work instinctively. I heard about honey hunters in the mountains. I tried to find them but couldn’t. It took me one-and-a-half years to find the guy and one day I met him. He was filled with honour and I knew it was him.  I asked him if he could teach me and take me to the mountains to harvest honey. He said ‘No one comes with me to the mountains’; he drinks all my tea and Nebico biscuits and walks away. I went to meet him again, found he has no son to carry the legacy. I persuaded him and he said something in his rough language to get a chicken.” Their one-and-half year journey started.Suddenly he says, “You ask me a lot of questions.” He was in China before this and gave a lot of interviews, which made him write in his notebook. He opens the diary flips the pages, finds the mark and reads — ‘All these people asking me so many questions about my life... when in fact I only live my life the way I wanted to.’ “The only difference compared to people who ask me questions is — when I see an adventure, I say yes.” Heading to the unknown makes him feel alive. Just like that the unknown answer is unveiled. He makes his films for himself, “It’s me... you are right...” amazed 62-year-old traveller smiles.