"And so... we are here," a voice called from the front seat of the car, waking me to the city lights. "Is there somewhere we can drop you, do you know where you're going?
"Umm..." my voice trailed, as i wiped sleep from my eyes. Had i really fallen asleep? "Honestly, as central as you're going would be great, thanks! No need to go anymore out of your way."
Their silhouettes nodded in the front seat as they discussed amongst themselves in German. The car's clock read a quarter past eleven. My heart was pounding and i felt a little sick. i can't believe i'd slept in their car, that was so dangerous, not only did i not know these people, i didn't even know where i was.
Ten minutes later i heard the car's indicator click, and we slowed to the curb. "Ok, so, welcome to Berlin."
The night air was colder than i had been expecting as i jumped out from the cramped Fiat and retrieved my backpack. "Thank you so, so much, i really appreciate the lift."
They wished me luck and drove into the night as i adjusted my rucksack's straps. Beautiful buildings older than the city i'd been born and raised in surrounded me. i couldn't believe it. Berlin. i had made it! i had hitchhiked! It had worked!
The whole day had been so surreal. Whisked from the pages of Vonnegut's book, i'd spent the morning walking through the cobbled streets of Dresden. The city was gorgeous. What remained, and what had been reconstructed from the scabs of the firebombed city was awe-inspiring. After over a year of living in Europe i was still stunned by the architecture. Enspelled by the history and the feel of the cities. Charmed by the sounds of my footsteps echoing amongst the millions predating them.
i arrived from Prague at dawn. My smile radiant in the lifting darkness as i wandered the empty Sunday streets i had only imagined as a teenager. At that age long walks with a heavy backpack had been so taxing, so trivial. Back and forth from school, only a year prior. It felt so distant, a past life. Now, days spent on my feet were beyond enthralling. The sounds of indistinguishable conversation peppered over the smell of spring, in ancient, enchanting cities was otherworldly. My life was beginning to reflect the novels and stories i cherished.
The Sun rose, but only a few shops opened. On a bench by the gorgeous Nymphenbad fountain of Dresden, i swapped Jeff Buckley's Grace for Thelonious Monk's greatest hits, and checked the batteries in my discman. Still enough charge for the day, i was elated. And hungry. i checked what was left in my wallet. Financially, things were looking a little grim. The last of my Czech Koruna had converted to around thirty-eight Euros. And i still had a journey head of me. There were less than forty-eight hours until my flight home to London left from Berlin. i could of course eat the ATM fees and withdraw more cash, but it didn't seem worth the charge. i wondered if i could make it work.
My stomach roared as i lifted my bag to my shoulder. The morning passed as i explored with my eyes peeled for a supermarket or some form of reasonable food to tie me over. By midday there were very few places open. i made my way back to the train station to see how much a ticket to Berlin would set me back, and how much i could splurge on my breakfast, now lunch. The space felt odd, desolate. The shutters were closed over not only all the tickets counters, but shops, and stalls as well. i found an electric kiosk to search for my ticket onwards. My heart plummeted when i saw the prices. The tickets were even more expensive than a price of a train from Prague to Berlin. i had chose the slow train to Dresden rather then my final destination thinking the international fees would be more expensive than the national trains, but i was way off. Foolishly i had jumped out in Dresden for the day or afternoon to save some money.
Nothing to panic about, there were more options than trains. At the other end of the terminal were some counters for buses. Unfortunately all of those were closed, as well as the information counter. Following signs to the bus depot outside i went searching for an attendant, or anyone to speak to. With a dash of luck there was a driver smoking outside of one of the coaches in an otherwise empty lot. A German couple beat me to him fishing for information themselves.
Casually, i wandered over, and joined the conversation at what i hoped was a polite break. Always an uncomfortable task when others are speaking another language, true to my Canadian roots i opened with an apology, and asked if they knew of any coaches running. While the driver gave me a stink eye the couple were more then welcoming and spoke fluent English. Of course, this wasn't an ordinary Sunday, it was Easter Sunday. Which explained why the city had been so sleepy. Why everything was closed. There were no buses or trains moving until later that evening. Even then pretty much everything was booked, or had a very expensive holiday ticket.
A look of defeat washed over my face. The only options would be a pricey train or bus late in the night. The driver piped up and the couple translated again, that i may have luck for less expensive trains in the morning. But then the woman looked at me, leaned forward and asked 'Why don't you hitchhike?' Reeking with enthusiasm she explained how her and her partner had hitched down from the North and made it to Dresden only an hour ago.
i was astounded. At first i couldn't believe what she was saying. A few months prior i had seen Sean Penn's film Into the Wild. It was as if the movie was speaking directly to me, and i watched wide eyed. When the credits rolled and the cinemas lights came on my friend Marie glared at me, pointed a stern finger and with zero hesitation yelled "NO!" in warning.
i was flabbergasted! How could she know what i was thinking! "No! This isn't something you can do! Don't get any ideas!" A few years older than me, Marie had become something like a big sister, guiding me through London. Rather than talk about the extraordinary film we had both enjoyed i was subject to a long, long, and ultimately futile, lecture. It was too late. The film had changed me. Inspired by the landscapes, the adventure, the ethos, the connections, the freedom, i spent the next months drowning in daydreams. After reading Kerouac and the beats, i cemented myself as moody nostalgic. Rueing the year i had been born in. Jilted from missing the wildness and community of decades passed. Watching the story of Chris McCandless felt so tangible. So relatable, and so recent. So possible.
And then there, on a beautiful Easter Sunday, in Dresden, Germany, two strangers suggested i take to the wind. Nervousness mixed with excitement as i asked them how to do it. How to start. They were nonchalent, and encouraging, telling me not worry, that only good people would pick me up. Their words felt like blessings. The man explained how simple it was. Make a sign and head to the highway. The woman shook her hand, yes but find the right highway, make sure you're going in the right direction, have a safe place for drivers to pull over, and stick out your thumb. The old driver nodded and shrugged as he stamped out the butt of his cigarette. He pointed North and the woman translated that there was a petrol station that led to the autobahn that i could try. i'll never forget her smile, "Do it! We made it here from the Baltic this morning! You can do this!"
And so that's what i did. After a thank you and hug for the strangers i began marching to Berlin right then and there in the late afternoon. What the hell did i have to lose? Aside from my life, passport, credit card, cash, and the rest of my stuff. i'll go to the road until dark and try my best, i thought. If no rides come then i'd turn around and either sleep in the train station until the morning, or find a night train, whatever was cheaper. If i needed to splurge on a ticket that was fine, i'd save on accommodation anyways. i still had plenty of time before i needed to panic about catching my flight back.
Despite having walked all day with a heavy bag my stride was wide, and purposeful as i moved through the city again. i tore a poster off a wall and used a shitty bic pen to scribble Berlin on the back. To say the sign was illegible is an understatement, but i was elated. At any opportunity i asked for directions to the petrol station, doing my best to maximize the daylight. i had limited success with people understanding me, knowing where the station i was speaking of was, or wanting to help me in general. Eventually i met two German girls my age who knew the direction to the autobahn. They asked me what i was doing and explained i was a Canadian traveller, trying to hitch to Berlin to catch my flight back, which they thought that was awesome. The girls decided to walk me to the spot to make sure i didn't get lost and hear of my adventures that brought me from Bucharest to Dresden.
We had a fantastic chat about their studies and my travels. They took me all the way to a gas station on the edge of town, close to an hour's walk. From the station i could see the signs to the autobahn. i waved as they walked away and placed my bag in front of me by the exit of the petrol station. It all felt so crazy, so wild, i was so nervous. A few cars went by before i worked up the courage to try and flag anyone down. i took a deep breath of chilly air and reminded myself that everything was fine. If it didn't work i knew how to get back to the train station, and this would be another stupid story added to the collection of this crazy trip. As soon as i threw out my thumb, it felt like magic. i was euphoric. The driver's reactions were generally positive, with big smiles, encouraging thumbs up, and an occasional middle finger, which i found hysterical. i was little bit cold, but i was fine.
After about twenty or thirty minutes a car finally pulled over. It felt like slow motion as he stopped on the shoulder beside me and rolled down his window. Stunned, i didn't know how to react. It didn't feel real. i snapped back to reality and zipped to the car door, the driver asked me in German where I was going. Hearing another language made the experience all the more dreamlike, and i humbly asked if he spoke English. He smiled said, 'of course,' and i explained i was trying to get to Berlin. The driver grimaced, and apologized, Berlin was North, he was headed West, and couldn't be of any help to me. i thanked him profusely for stopping anyways, and he wished me luck before pulling away to the horizon.
It is one of the most surreal experiences in my life up to that point- though it would pale in comparison to what would come. i was ecstatic. i couldn't believe a single car had stopped. i couldn't believe this was possible. So there I stood casting my thumb off trying different manoeuvres as it got darker and darker. My first attempt at hitchhiking and i was hitching at night. So sketchy, my inexperience abundant. Every time i began losing hope another car would arrive. Sadly, they were all going in different directions, and had to turn me down. Minutes turned to hours, and the clock inched closer to ten pm, my cutoff point before i planned to give up and head back to the city centre. Reluctant to quit, i forged on, forgetting the time and opting for one last car.
Like magick, as soon as i resolved for a final attempt a car immediately pulled over. The passenger window rolled down and a woman in her mid twenties shouted their destination. "Berlin?" It happened. They were quite full but said as long as i didn't mind luggage on my lap i was welcome to join them. i jumped in the car, was in store for wonderful, though somewhat awkward conversation about music, my travels, and such. Our words eventually dissolved as they do on so many road trips, and the radio filled the silence for us as we went onward. My eyelids began to flutter, exhaustion called, and my first case of car-colepsy answered.
...to be continued
Thanks for reading,
Wazoo!
-Mr. Write