It's for days like today that I'm glad I have this blog.
To begin with, I was really starting to have a less than nice time in Paris. All I wanted was to create a little social circle for 2 weeks, meets lots of people and then leave. Is that so much to ask?
Really, though, what got me the most were the broken plans. Genre: I'll meet you at 19h...actually 21h...actually I'm not going to respond to my phone anymore. False promises partout.
I think it's like any big city; people are busy, stressed out, and don't have time for a travelling foreigner with all the time in the world.
Speaking of all the time in the world: I hitchhiked from Paris to Belgium in less than 7 hours.
I started by taking the train to Gallieni, the terminus of the line 3, the one I used to take when I lived near Gambetta. It was like old times. Ironically, the bus line Eurolines is situated at the same station, something I didn't realize until the map in myPhone told me. I spent a good 15 minutes at the entrance to the A3 but didn't feel good about the prospects: people seemed amenable but were going in the wrong direction. So I moved. I walked east, over a stupidly big hill with my stupidly heavy bag and carry on and found the next entrance. I felt better that this time, at least, everyone was going my way; it wasore a matter of finding someone amenable. After not more than 5 minutes, voilà!
The guy spoke French rapidly and with abandon, hard to understand, so I took what i could make out and ran with it. He was adopted from Brazil by Belgian parents but lived 100 km NE of Paris. He mentioned how in that region the society is very closed and his parents had difficulty getting accepted. He was about my age, drove a car that, in the states I would have called a pimped out Honda civic, and was a truck driver. I disabused him of his misconceptions about chicago, and he left me at a toll booth.
I thought this would be a good place too and so waited. I tried out a couple different places but to no avail. After about the 4th place, I decided to get away from the autoroute and try some county roads. I walked a km to a rondpoint and hardly had time to stick out my thumb when a chainsmoking gardener former pharmacist stopped and offered a ride. 20km later, he left me at an intersection that seemed even more remote. I had little hope but was open to the possibility.
Sure enough, the first car to pass was this retired guy who took me only 5 km north.
I put myself at a crossroads and waited around. This time, I figured I was in the best place possible and so waited and waited. And waited. None of the people passing even fit the stereotype of one who would dare pick up an autostoppeur. After 45 min or more, I walked north. I thought maybe I would appear more amenable while walking. Nope. Made it 3km (did I mention my heavy bag?) and stood for a while at another crossroads with a lot more traffic and potential.
Finally, the drought ended when some handyman or electrician stopped, even saying, didn't i see you at that other village? Yup. So he actually went a little out of his way and dropped me off right back at the A1 headed towards Belgium. Back on course. This time, there was a nice shady place to sit (did I mention it was sunny and beautiful the whole day?) and wrote out "Belg" on a piece if paper.
15 min later, this guy stops in a relatively nice Peugot and, though reluctant seeming at first, agrees to take me to the Belgian border. Awesome. Now I finally feel again that I might actually make it, that I won't have to sleep on the side of the road. I came to terms with that reality but was happy not to resort to that.
We have a really interesting convo, still a lot of me disbusing notions, and he deposes me at a gas station at the frontier, still 70km to go.
I was confident in my location but not in the time of day. It was getting to be 7pm at this point and I was seeing a dearth of potential rides: men alone in their car. Lots of couples, families, whatever. I was talking to some Arab guys at one point--of the lowclass variety--and one guy said they could take me to Liege, at 30km fron Brux. I didnt feel quite right with the situation, especially when one of them said: could you help with gas? 5€? I was ok with this. But then when I said ok, he said: well how about 10€? awkward. At one point i had my bags in the trunk almost ready to go but ended up deciding against it.
Then came the best ride. A real Belgian, who does official visits of Bruxelles for dignitaries (and apparently Lady Gaga). Our conversation mostly consisted of him going on about politics or whatever--all very interesting considering the political turmoil in Belgium right now.
He, like most everyone else, was grateful for me coming along, breaking up the monotony of the journey. And his monotony must have been great; he was driving up from Barcelona. 13hrs plus stops.
And then he took me all the way to Mehdi's, out of his way. Then I got fed, was given Pastis, and offered pot. People are such wonderful creatures.
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