When the mist rolls in on Highway One 

like a curtain to the day 
A thousand silhouettes hold out their thumbs 

(Joan Baez “Hitchhikers song”)

The Reason

Out of so many ways you can travel through Europe, why would you choose something that involves standing in the dust by the road, relying on kindness of drivers and never knowing when (and if!) you will reach your destination. There are many answers to this question. Each answer has a story of its own.

The Beginning

“When you come back to Europe, you have to come traveling with me” – I saw my friends’ message on email. The decision where and how was left for me. First though that popped into my head was “Serbia”. Maybe because of teenage dream about it, or some other unknown reason – this first though was the decision. Even less known force put the idea of hitchhiking into my mind. Neither of us had done it before. I could only smile for myself imagining my friend opening the email “Vilnius-Serbia. 1500 km. Hitchhiking. Our trip.”

The Preparation

“Food”.

“Check”.

“Flashlight”

“Check”

“Tent, sleeping bags, plastic cups”

“Check, check, check”

Sometimes preparations seem like a never ending story of “stuff”. Things for that, and things for this, and things for “what if…”. Backpacks get filled and quite heavy to carry. We looked at each other confused.

“Well, we will eat the food eventually…” – my friend said carefully.

I nodded looking at the reflection in the mirror. There was me the huge thing behind, dragging me backwards.

“Well, - I said, - I hope we have enough enthusiasm for the whole trip to carry these”.

My friend nodded. Carefully.

The Road

On the move all the time, through window of car, places merge into one long row of landscapes, gas stations, passing cars. Places are no longer that important – your trail is marked by kilometer you are at and the next hitchhiking spot. What you remember that’s people, the drivers that were so trusting to pick up a stranger from the side of road.

The Driver (No. 1)

It was an old Golf car that stopped first for us. Lithuanian couple, both hitchhikers. We crammed into backseats with their stuff, our stuff in our laps. But happy, smiling, sharing stories and experiences throughout the short distance to Kaunas.

The Driver (No. 2)

We were walking down the road when we heard car signal. In these cases you don’t know if they are joking, want you to move aside or pick you up. This Polish driver saw the sign “PL” on our backpack, maybe he though we were Polish or he was just nice enough to stop. His van smelled nice and I just enjoyed The Beatles and The Doors music looking outside the window. I left the communication part to my friend this time. (One of the reasons it is good to hitchhike with someone – you have to tell the same stories just half of the time…). He was in a hurry home, but still took us to the tram stop to get through Warsaw. He was very nice.

The Driver (No. 3)

We took tram number 7 and were all the way across Warsaw in the bust stop. We did not have time even to orientate around and we were on the road again, with a truck this time. The driver was very talkative, I mean – Very Talkative. And only language he knew was Polish. But all he needed from us is to listen and nod, so we did. It was one long tirade from Warsaw to somewhere in the middle point between it and Krakow. There he stopped. We did not understand quite well, but I think he found us a next ride through truck driver radio connection. Either that or we were Very lucky getting the next truck to stop in ten minutes.

The Driver (No. 4)

He was a silent man. Frank. He did not know much Russian or English (and of course not Lithuanian) and I think he was not used to talking a lot. Great news for us was that Frank was going all the way to Slovenia, so he could drop us off at Hungarian border. It was really relaxing to know that far ahead.

Evening came and Frank had stop at the truck garage. He asked if we had a place to stay – we showed our tent. Then he suggested sleeping in an empty truck trailer in the garage. Excitedly we took our backpacks to dark, empty, spacious “bedroom” of ours. I have always had this ideal image of travelers - those vagabonds, with no actual place and purpose to be, lighting fire in the evening and cooking a pot of beans. I am pretty sure it came from Hollywood movies, but the image was so strong, that we did take a whole can of beans into the backpack (that were quite heavy even without can of beans). The difficult part was to figure out how to warm them up without a fire as it would be very inappropriate to light a fire in truck trailer. My friend is an engineer – maybe that’s the reason he was the one to come up with solution to this difficult situation. A candle! After ten minutes we sat quietly on the floor, little light came from the outside, but the candle was shining brightly. We had our bowls with beans, real ideal vagabond style, both satisfied with the road so far.

The next day was sunny again. Frank and some other truck drivers were awake, preparing for the day. He suggested us coffee and of course we did not say no. And so we had our breakfast on the engine of a truck. (I couldn’t help smiling all the time thinking about randomness of all this) When we were on the road again Franks’ truck felt so normal. It is different to go on a truck than regular car - you can see everything from much higher point. All others look like dwarfs and you are a graceful giant, polite, but proud. It was a long way. We stopped at few places and it felt like we were a part of this non-formal truck driver community. Eventually there we were – at the border of Hungary. Drivers usually can stop just for few short moments for you to get off the car, so no long goodbyes. Just “thank you, have a nice trip”, you are out on the road and truck just drives away. And that is all.

The Driver (No. 5)

We did not even need to hitch this time. We were just passing the border and German couple noticed us (it is very easy to spot hitchhikers – big backpacks and no vehicle). And so the got as all the way to Budapest.

The Camp

For a regular traveler City is a good place. For a hitchhiker-vagabond one is it is not. You stand there in the middle of urban jungle, the night is coming and only thought crossing your mind “Where could I put my tent”. Then eventually it is too late for transport, so you walk. Walk and walk and walk. Sometimes even ten kilometers through never ending asphalt pavement and suburbia houses, cursing at every step, backpack heavy on your shoulders, dragging you down. But you know you cannot stop. At this point it is not enthusiasm that keeps you, it is this simple knowledge. Eventually a green spot appears, in-between the roads, not far from houses, but was good enough in these circumstances. No fire, no candles, just cuddle into your sleeping bag and sleep, not thinking about how much you will have to walk tomorrow.

The Waiting

I heard before that Hungary is not too pleasant for hitchhiking. After five hours of waiting and no luck I knew it for sure. Sometimes you have to wait and wait and wait a bit more. The good part about it – the longer you wait the happier you become when you get picked up. My head was exploding of happiness when the truck stopped. There were already two of them inside the truck, but did not have any problem about having two more people. Although we had no common language, it was easy to communicate our gratefulness at least.

Serbia was up ahead, just a little more...

The Last Driver

We thanked Serbian truck drivers and got off just at the border. Being not in the European Union anymore we faced the actual Border this time. For the cars it is very unpleasant experience. In this case it was better to be a vagabond-hitchhiker passing border on foot. The Hungarian border officer barely looked at us.

“Where are you going?”- asked the Serbian officer in voice sounding like “this is an official question and I do not really care about your answer”.

He put a stamp to our passport and that was it. Here we were – in Serbia at last. Already calm and satisfied we went to the side of the road again. Not too long it took and Turkish driver stopped. He was going all the way to Istanbul. I and my friend looked at each other – I knew the same thought crossed our minds. Sometimes you think about the possibilities when the drivers go much further than your destination. But it was just a thought. We had whole Serbia for us.

We stopped for a cup of coffee, which he insisted to buy for us. Under the sun outside gas station we drank it and he was talking about places he has been to. The mountains of Central Asia, desert roads in Middle East. Him, his truck, delivery and seemingly endless road.

He dropped us off just beside the road to Novi Sad, our destination city.

The Answer

So this is my story – the excitement, frustration, happiness, waiting, walking, coffee, trucks, gas stations, cities, asphalt, road sides, beans, The Road, the Not Knowing what lies ahead. Every time you raise your thumb you take a chance. It is mostly random and based on luck. It is also based on kindness and trust of people.

So this is my answer - the excitement, frustration, happiness, waiting, walking, coffee, trucks, gas stations, cities, asphalt, road sides, beans, The Road, the Not Knowing what lies ahead, the kindness and trust. Hitchhiking is the way to feel the Road in its raw form. It is not about Destination A or Destination B anymore, it I about the road in-between them. The random cars, shared moments and fast good byes, knowing that you (most probably) will never meet again. But you know you will not forget. Never.