The Hitchhike
Life is like a hitchhike.
The journey is our own, but along the way we need help.
Whether that be for food, shelter, advice, a lift somewhere literally and figuratively.
We rely on others in one way or another on our trip through life.
Sometimes people help out of the goodness of their hearts.
Sometimes people want a favour in return.
Regardless, on that part of the journey you get to know another person.
The curtains are drawn on another life, living parallel to yours.
As beautiful and complex as your own.
I guess I just want to address that although your life is yours, it wouldn’t be what it is without others.
So it’s important to ask for help when you need it. Or even just to communicate your problems with someone who listens.
People need people. It’s always going to be that way.
Being independent, strong and in tune with yourself is so important, I know.
But human connection is vital in personal growth too.
You get perspectives and lessons you wouldn’t get from your own experiences. Memories you’ll cherish forever.
That’s hitchhiking.
Now I wouldn’t win gold. I’ve only done it twice, out of necessity.
But I’ve sorted it into three stages;
-the problem
-the hero
-the journey
The three stages combined is what cultivates an experience, a lesson, a memory that will help you long after you were first given a hand.
Below I’ve explained my hitchhiking experiences through these stages, so you’re more than welcome to have a read.
Hitchhike #1
In my last post I briefly explained how I was left at a pit stop between Berlin and Amsterdam.
My friend and I were nearing the end of our Europe trip. The Netherlands being the second last country.
After a large three days sweating up the d floor in Berlin, we were keen to kick back a bit in Amsterdam.
Half way through the trip we stop at a gas station to stretch the legs and have a feed. Something we had gotten used to travelling through Europe. The bus driver told us how much time we would be there in German. We asked him how long in English. He struggled to translate. We thought he said 30. Later we discovered he did not…
The Problem
We see him pull out as we are eating our burgers. We bolt for the bus. Wailing our arms. Screaming for him to stop. We were literally 20 metres behind but instead of slowing down, he sped up. Fuck.
After contacting the bus company, they said they couldn’t call the bus driver, but would contact the station to collect our bags when they arrived.
Cool, now how the hell are we getting to Amsterdam.
We asked strangers in the car park, in the Burger King; no luck.
We made a sign and attempted to flag down speeding motorists on the highway; our lack of luck continued.
It started to drizzle.
The Hero
We were feeling hopeless after an hour. Everyone had said either “Sorry I can’t help you” or “I can’t speak English” in German.
Then out comes our soon to be hero, cradling his Burger King meal in one arm whilst sipping his soft drink intensely with the other. Eyes fixed on our sign, ‘Amsterdam’.
He looked at us, motioned with his head towards his car, never taking his lips from his drink.
As we got in the car it started to pour down with rain.
Finally, some good luck.
The Journey
He called his mother instantly as we drove off towards the border.
He explained the situation in German and then relayed back that she told us not to kill him. We all looked at each other and burst out into laughter.
We vibed to German rock the whole way. He explained his job; he sets up music events.
He dropped us off at the station in his home town. We thanked him for saving our asses, and we trained the rest of the trip to Amsterdam.
Train station on the border pictured right.
Hitchhike #2
Funnily enough this hitchhike was anticipated. I wanted to see a river in Montenegro and was told no buses could pick me up from there, only drop me off. Hitchhiking back was the only way.
Tara Bridge pictured right.
The Problem
I had to get back to the town I was staying in before it got dark.
So after sipping on a coffee, journalling in my book and buying some postcards, it was time to get back.
I befriended an old Canadian man as we were both searching for a lift. He reminded me of Santa Claus, although this guy was much cooler and more hippy. And his gifts; his wisdom.
The Hero
A big burly man from Montenegro saw the Canadian and myself, thumbs extended. He called to us from behind, parked in a car park after presumingly watching us get rejected by multiple passerby’s; “Zabljak?”.
“Yes!” we said.
”Let me just ask my wife” he said before getting the all clear from her sitting in the car, giving us now an extended thumbs up.
The Journey
The big burly man was a gentle giant and his fiancée just as soft spoken. They were recently engaged, so it made me smile realising he calls her his wife already. Very cute.
They had been in a long distance relationship for a couple of years but she was to move with him to Sweden where he worked.
We mainly listened to their stories, asking questions about Montenegro and Sweden. The experienced hitchhiking Canadian taking the reigns of the conversation, which was great because I liked listening.
They dropped us off in town and we said our goodbyes.
The Takeaway
There are people out there that will help you. They may not appear right away, you’ll have to be patient and put yourself in positions to get help. But there are beautiful humans willing to pick you up when you’re down.
Sometimes you just have to ask the right people.
There’s always going to be a problem, a hero and a journey. You’re the consistent piece to each story. Don’t stay stuck with a problem. Without you there won’t be a journey.
Whether you’re battling mental demons or have a flat tyre. Reach out and talk to someone who will listen.
Everyone needs help in life.
In one way or another.
Reflecting on these experiences brought me happiness.
But it’s so weird that I’ll never see these people again.
They helped purely out of the goodness of their hearts.
They rejected the fear and anxiety picking up strangers might bring to help out strangers they’ll never see again.
Will they ever think of these experiences, like I do.
Will I ever pass them in the street, and not know it.
Will I ever have the opportunity to help someone like I have been helped.
These people showed me that there is good in the world. That German rock isn’t my thing. That language barriers and distance can’t stop love. That men double the size of me have the caring nature of a mother duck. And that there is no Mrs Claus; Santa just loves travelling.
