Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
333Trip End Ongoing
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We've taken a bus to an on ramp section for the A17 to the border. With vehicles coming in all directions, coupled with a decent spot for people to stop, I'm guessing it isn't going to be long before the magic happens. Once again drivers are wetting themselves laughing at my India sign. I've been informed by websites that keeping an upbeat happy morale really helps in getting picked up. Nobody want's a misery guts in their car. A sign saying 'we're awesome' goes a long way. As does the flag of your country, unless it's British or American. I'm going to locate a Saltire at some point and stick it into my backpack. Nobody hates the Scots. Except the English.
Some middle aged idiot drives past in a crap car and makes a tapping 'you're nutters' gesture to his head, while horrible wife glares her disapproval. I'm seething. Katty does her best to calm me down, but he's clearly a man that will die in chains. He epitomises everything I despise about not having freedom. This man has no choices. He's stuck in his tie wearing, desk sitting, nonentity of a 'lifestyle' with no regard for those who dream of something better. He's a settler. Settled blindly with what society has forced him into. He's never seen Into The Wild. He hasn't listened to Tracy Chapman. He didn't cry when Jack slipped into the icy water and Rose said she'd never let go. Maybe I'm turning into a hippy.
It's about an hour before a kind soul pulls in and can take us as far as the petrol station just over the border. Result. From there surely a matter of minutes before we are driven the rest of the way. This is what people need to understand about hitchhikers. We don't necessarily have to be taken right to the door, just edge us ever closer. We've more chance of getting a ride to our ultimate destination at a rest stop in the Czech Republic than we do on a roadside South of Dresden. Just because I'm carrying an India sign doesn't mean I need a lift all the way there right now. Stop tapping your head you muppet.
Although he smells a little and farts as we cross the border, filling the car with an odorous musk, we're nonetheless grateful for the ride. Setting us down in a new country, it literally is seconds before a kind couple take us to the city. They're going all the way to Serbia for a wedding, and for a second I flirt with the idea of tagging along. It's the journey and not the destination though, and I really do need to see Prague. Oh and Katty probably wouldn't have liked that either.
A new country, a new city, and a new sticker for my guitar. I'm running out of space. I paid 40 bucks for it in Honduras. It's priceless to me now, worth more than my good one in storage in Scotland. Perhaps it's about time I learned how to play it.