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Why I Hitchhike
And this road...
there is a road calling my name
I’m not too sure where this one will lead, I guess I haven’t thought it out that far
but I feel it in my toes, as they curl and tap in unsettlement
and I see it in my thumb as it lifts itself as if to practice the movement to come
and I wonder if through all their fear they hear my tails of excitement
and I know that something wonderful is waiting for me on that road.
The Miserable Hitcher
You have to be dead broke, or a romantic, to persevere.
“Why didn’t that last car pick me up?”, the constant refrain. With every passing car, the hopeful traveller hones their cynical, psycho-sociological observations, between the points when the driver first spies them and when they decide not to stop. If the car is full or driven by a woman alone, it doesn’t really count – no conclusions can be drawn. Otherwise, vehicle after vehicle disappoints, and thick, helpless misanthropy sinks in.
Of course, every hitchhiker knows that no driver is obliged - by any kind of social duty - to take an anonymous passenger. But as the percentage of benefactors dwindles, it is inevitable to begin to believe, by force of statistics and over-thinking, that at least some are dodging an act of kindness out of media-induced paranoia and increasing societal isolation of individuals. Each and every one afraid and alone, speeding from one protected environment to another. If they’re right to be afraid, it’s a sad, vicious world; if they’re wrong to be afraid, it’s a sad, vicious world.
Neige et train
14 decembre
J’ai passer la journée d’aujourd’hui dans le train, encore une décision stupide qui pese sur mon morale et va réduire encore plus le temps que je vais passer avec les gens que j’aime.
Random Acts of Trust
The sun was going down somewhere behind the rain clouds and we weren't even halfway to our destination. After a series of rides off the beaten path from Amsterdam to Northern Germany, my partner and I ended up in a "not-so-good" place, where nobody seemed to be going anywhere that was even remotely relevant to us.
What seemed like a well-connected central city on the map, ended up feeling bleak and largely disconnected once we arrived. The destination was Munich, the present location Munster. We were still 700 kilometers of highway away. I didn’t really care though. But at the same time I couldn’t deny it was rainy, becoming colder and that my mind was wandering to the question of where we would sleep.
19 200 Litres Of Jet Fuel
I have just flown from Barcelona to Amsterdam in 60 000 kilos of steel speeding through the sky. It took three hours. When I boarded, it was 28 degrees, when I arrived at my destination: 13 degrees.
My eyes, my skin, my clothes, were all very used to summer sun in Spain. Suddenly, I began to shiver, goose bumps raising the hairs on my body. I needed twice as many layers and my eyes felt scratchy, unused to this dry cold wind.
While in transit, I met two people. The check-in guy who said to me “Tickets please” - and the air-hostess offering me beer with a plastered-on smile.
On such a trip, the community break-downs and unnatural speed means less trust and more health risks. Without even considering the amount of energy unnecessarily consumed.
One More Cup Of Coffee. Hitchhiking In Syria.
I had decided to start early, but the Syrian hospitality and friendliness of Omar’s neighbours keeps me drinking one last cup, and again, one more cup of coffee before leaving.
The neigbour’s boy, Ali, and I are making pictures for the photo album as a good bye to “our” mother, who - as I experienced for the first time in this country - has no reservations in talking to me openly. It felt like she adopted me from the first day. Picture a Syrian woman bringing coffee early in the morning without a question or second thought about it. Some hours later, she’ll return with big plates of salad, just for the traveler being hosted by the neigbours’ son. She makes it seem like the most normal thing in the world.
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