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Hitchhiking

I was never allowed to hitchhike as a kid. All the horrible stories my grandmother told me as a warning were very effective. Each nearing car could contain a cold killer...
This image followed me until deep in my twenties.
But I did hitchhike. A friend and I went to Romania by Taxistop, and hitched all the way back.
The hilarious stories I can tell you from that trip... Unforgettable. Unbelievable. -I am not joking when I say we were given a lift by maffia in Hungary, and by Europol in Germany-

Then I bought a car, and I travelled by air planes, I drive the road now by motorcycle.
But still I'd hitch once in a while, yet rarely.

These days, I am forced to hitchhike again.
I am following evening classes, just outside of Ghent.
I can get there by bus, but in the returning, by 10PM, the last bus is already gone. I could try to find a classmate that drives to Ghent.
I rather bet on the hitching. - Tonight, it took me exactly one minute to fetch a car-

It's a fabulous way to encounter people.
Even in your own city.

Posted on October 3, 2005
in Living in Belgium

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