I won't make the same mistake I made last year by putting off posting an entry about my summer travels. Trying to keep this entry relatively succinct, I'll summarize my last month or so in as minimal but efficient detail as possible, since I plan on posting (probably within a week or so) more detailed entries for each country on my website.
Before celebrating my 23rd birthday, I decided to visit a handful of micro-states (Liechtenstein, San Marino, and Monaco). Knowing no one living near Liechtenstein or San Marino, I made sure I had my sleeping bag and tent with me. Hitchhiking to Vaduz from Strasbourg wasn’t all too difficult, nor did it take long. I spent most of the day in Vaduz, which turned out to be more of a village than a city, admiring the scenic layout of the town and the fairy tale-like Vaduz Castle situated on a cliff. Then it was off to San Marino. San Marino was also a very scenic and beautiful town. Having nowhere to go or to sleep I camped out for the night.
Bright and early the next morning, I hitchhiked to Nice where a classmate of mine was spending the summer in his parents’ summer house. Day trips to Monaco and the beach were made during my relatively short stay there, but I had to go back to Strasbourg before heading north towards Scandinavia. I barely made it to Stockholm in time for my birthday, but I did make it! Tomasz even hitchhiked from Poland, though with an added incentive to visit Norway, to help me celebrate. It was like the first time I was in Stockholm already over 3 years ago. It was January then, when Tomasz and I took a flight to Stockholm from Gdansk, surprised to meet Erik for the first time at the airport. Ah… memories.
After my birthday, Tomasz and I hitchhiked to Oslo, where one of my ex-roommates now lives. He was from the arctic region of Norway but was studying a year in the U.S. at my university over 2 years ago, graduated, and is now living and working in the capital. Oslo was a nice city, though the weather could have been kinder. I seriously wanted to go to Kjeragbolten but the inclement weather (it was cool and rainy) combined with Tomasz’s hesitance temporarily delayed this trip. I would have gone alone, but I had no camera and I wanted to take a picture standing on the famous rock between the cliffs… so if my Polish travel buddy who had a camera was unwilling, it meant that the incentive to go alone was weak. We hitchhiked back to Sweden together before we parted ways, I continued east while he went south back towards Denmark, eventually back to Poland.
I managed to hitchhike on a ferry via a Finnish truck driver who was leaving Stockholm to go back to some town I’d never heard of in Finland. His Finnish made me laugh and my attempts to speak his language amused him. Overall, it was a perfectly entertaining ferry ride. As we approached the shore he pointed to the slab of land saying, “There’s Finland!” It reminded me of one Conan O’Brien episode with “going to Finland!” (Karin and Ken know what I’m talking about =D). There was still light out but whether I would make it to Helsinki in time or not seemed questionable. Risking hitchhiking past sundown, I got off the truck at a seemingly deserted rest area and waited with my sign. The problem was not that cars didn’t stop. The problem was there were no cars. My bright and cheerful demeanor faded slightly as I waited for what seemed like forever.
Then, as the sun started to set on the Finnish horizon, came one of the horrific moments of my life. It was as if someone turned some switch or pushed some invisible button. As soon as the sun hit the horizon, I heard a strange buzzing sound. This eerie sound grew louder. Frantically I turned around in search of this strange and mysterious noise. There it was… a moving gray cloud… no… it wasn’t a cloud… it was a swarm of mosquitoes!!! Suffering from a seemingly incurable phobia of bugs (or anything with more than 4 legs), I felt my heart sink into my stomach, my palms got clammy with cold sweat, and my body felt stiff and numb. Mosquitoes seem to love my blood for some strange reason. I already had over 20 mosquito bites and this swarm of hundreds of mosquitoes would probably eat me alive. Running as fast as I could with my heavy camper’s bag, I darted towards the rest area building for shelter as the swarm of blood suckers flew towards me. Just then a car honked next to me, and, as I’ve told my friends, I’d rather take my chances with a psycho killer than a room full of bugs, I got into the car without even asking where the driver was going.
Patience is the key to virtue. Once in the car, I learned I’d waited at that rest area for nearly 5 hours but the driver of the car was going to Helsinki. I almost wanted to kiss him when he said that. Not only did he save me from the mosquito army but I’d be able to get to Helsinki before it was too late. In Helsinki, I stayed with Tom’s (my half Finnish, half Swedish friend) friend. It was a pleasant city, but quite small and empty, especially at night.
After Helsinki I left for Tallinn on another ferry. This time, I hitchhiked to Estonia with a Belarusian driver. My Russian was tested to its limits during the relatively short ride. Once off the ferry, the car got stopped by Estonian customs (probably because he was from Belarus – non-Schengen, non-EU, evil Lukashenka, etc.) and it was strange for me since it was the first time the driver had to get out of the car, open his trunk and show a bunch of documents for the car and the like. Estonian customs didn’t really question me too much at all. Once I showed them my ID, they just glanced at it then returned it to me, the custom’s officer grinning broadly, probably realizing I’d just hitchhiked from Finland with the Belarusian driver. I was dropped off in Tallinn and the driver continued his trek back to Belarus.
Once in Tallinn, I realized I had no place to sleep and decided to do what Tomasz did so often, sleep at an airport. It was ok for one night. The airport security guard let me off the hook one time when I mumbled some story about a flight in the morning and not having any Estonian krooni. The second night, he wasn’t so forgiving, and I had to head back to the city and wandered around the outskirts of Tallinn. Tired beyond what I could physically handle, I decided to call it a night and sleep at a bus station outside and took out my sleeping bag. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I suppose it was sometime past midnight, someone asked me a question in English, albeit with a rather strong Russian accent. Bewildered and half asleep, I sat up on the bus stop bench and saw the speaker. He asked me what I was doing. When I told him I was going to sleep at the bus stop, he laughed. Not just chuckled, but really, laughed. I really didn’t, and still don’t, understand why this is so funny, but once he managed to subside his laughter, he said he lived a block down the street in a student dorm and his roommate had gone home for the summer so there was an extra bed. His offer seemed genuine so I accepted the offer.
Meeting Sergey at the bus stop made my stay in Tallinn one hell of an experience. He was Russian but from an eastern Estonian town bordering Russia, so his Estonian wasn’t exactly perfect and he’d been studying, working, and living in Tallinn for the past 3 years. The next morning, I met his friend Sasha, who was also Russian, and they showed me around the city, I discovered milk being sold in plastic bags at Estonian supermarkets, and, despite them trying to dissuade me, tried traditional Estonian food. In short, it was a learning experience.
Time running low, despite wanting to spend more time with my new-found friend, I left for Latvia. The first driver out of Estonia was an Estonian businessman who only spoke Estonian and Russian. Never before did I think Russian would be such an indispensable language during my travels in the Baltic States. My impression was that the Russian language was a reminder of the Soviet times, times that the Baltic people wanted to distance themselves from… but nevertheless, anyone in their late 20s and definitely everyone over 30 spoke Russian. Not to mention significant Russian minorities living in these countries. Initially, I started learning Russian because I liked the way it sounded, but after this experience, I realize now that it’s probably one of the most useful languages I’ve learned so far, especially when it comes to hitchhiking in Europe. My Estonian driver took me to a town close enough to the Estonian-Latvian border.
Hitchhiking in the Baltic States, I would soon realize, is extremely, extremely easy. I waited no longer than 5 minutes when a Lithuanian truck driver stopped and I’d hitchhike into Latvia with Lithuanian truck drivers. I hitchhiked with the first Lithuanian truck driver who spoke only Russian and Lithuanian. He told me he had colleagues leaving to go around Riga. So, after a 20-minute ride, I had to get off his truck to get onto another truck, the one going near Riga. Initially, I felt a little… uneasy since once in the truck, there were two male drivers who spoke no English (again, only Russian and Lithuanian). People I hitchhiked with always told me never to hitchhike with truck drivers, especially in Eastern Europe, and especially not with two. On this occasion, they were a couple of the friendliest Lithuanians I’ve ever met in my life. The older truck driver had a 25-year-old daughter studying for a doctorate degree in political science and the younger driver also had a daughter who was just 3 years old. I got to practice a lot Russian all the way to a rest area near Riga.
As they wished me luck, they told me I was about 20km away from the center of Riga, a distance I thought I’d be able to handle without any problems. Once in Latvia, I realized a lot of people spoke Russian or were probably ethnically Russian. For instance, at the rest area, a bunch of Russian boys were hanging out talking… I honestly have no idea why they were hanging out at a gas station but I didn’t feel like asking them since the sun was about to set and I still had to get to Riga. I waited no more than 2 minutes when a car stopped. A young veterinarian was going straight to Riga! She also spoke perfect English. We immediately “clicked” so to speak and she said I was more than welcomed to stay at her apartment for a few nights. Riga was wonderful thanks to her. We went out for drinks, walked around town, had some heart-to-heart talks, ate traditional Latvian food… it was simply amazing, not to mention her lavish apartment (my apartment in France seemed like a crap shack compared to her place). I even stayed a day at her parents’ place by the sea since they were away on vacation. Ieva and I were both sad that I had to leave Riga, but I’m sure we can keep in touch; at least, I hope so!
I hitchhiked out of Riga first with a Lithuanian businessman who spoke perfect English. Actually, he was one of the most knowledgeable and interesting drivers I’ve ever met. I learned a lot from him, about Lithuania, Latvia, the languages, and history… even some more scientific things that I’m rather weak in. Since my driver was going to Kaunas and I was planning on going to Vilnius, I had to get off at a rest area in Panevezys. From there I got a ride with a Lithuanian engineer who also spoke English. I suppose these series of rides and drivers were my luckiest moments of my trip in terms of finding English-speaking drivers. Once in Vilnius, I slept at the airport at night and explored the city during the day. It was a beautiful city that seemed almost cozy at times.
Hitchhiking out of Vilnius was also a cinch. I easily found a ride with a bunch of Lithuanians, but this time, none of them spoke English and I had to revert to Russian. Once near the Lithuanian-Polish border, I hitchhiked with an old Polish truck driver into Poland. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this ride would basically foreshadow the rest (or most) of my hitchhiking experience in Poland. I only hitchhiked in Poland with my Polish friend Tomasz. Obviously, with him being Polish, language barriers were never an issue. Without him, hitchhiking alone… well… that was a completely different experience.
In a nutshell, hitchhiking in the Baltic States = super easy. Hitchhiking in central Europe = super easy. Hitchhiking in Poland = super easy but extremely frustrating. Waiting was not a problem in Poland. The problem was language. In the Baltic States, all my drivers spoke either English or Russian and either or very well. In Poland, most of my drivers knew no English and even if they understood some Russian, they spoke very little. Thus a series of mishaps began. I hitchhiked to some small town about 100km north of Warszawa with the old Polish truck driver. He didn’t talk much and my attempts to converse with him were in vain since my Polish was almost completely forgotten and my Russian was not well-understood by my driver. English would be even less comprehensible so I didn’t even try after he told me he didn’t speak English.
Oh Polish roads… the best place to hitchhike on Polish roads is from the bus stops when there are no rest areas. “Real” highways are not very common. I got picked up by another Polish truck driver who spoke a little more Russian than the last, but he asked me some strange questions and I felt quite uncomfortable. I managed to get off the truck at the first opportunity. The next driver was nice but communication was impossible. So impossible that he wrote down the number of kilometers he was going to drive me. I realized I was heading toward Warszawa and I figured it might be easier to find drivers from bigger cities… maybe drivers who spoke English. Then I had one of those rare bad experiences with my driver. Luckily nothing happened and I was able to defend myself (kickboxing and years of athletics do help!). I had to mentally prep myself for a few minutes and prepared my sign again. Then I hitchhiked with a very old man who took me just another village over. Waiting time was short but the distance covered was also progressing in sporadic, short bursts in Poland.
Then luck came back to me. A Belgian driver picked me up and with him I spoke in French! Ah French, finally communication was possible! He took me to Warszawa, though not to the center since he was going to head west and I was heading southeast towards Ukraine. In Warszawa I hitchhiked with a single father who lost his wife very recently (he still wore his wedding band, how cute!) and was from Katowice!!! Tomasz’s hometown! It makes me think; maybe people from Silesia are the nicest Poles around? He was going to pick up his two daughters from his mother-in-law’s place in Terespol, a very small Polish town bordering Belarus. He spoke and understood some Russian and after having heard a lot of Polish throughout the day, I managed to eek out some phrases and expressions in Polish in combination with my Russian.
Seriously, if I fail at life, I’ll move to Poland and become a comedian. My Polish made him laugh and my attempt at recounting some of my stories (camping, sleeping at bus stations, getting kicked out of the airport, etc.) were apparently highly entertaining. To him, I was one of the strangest and funniest people he’d ever met; to me, he was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Despite the language barrier, he could clearly see that my attempt to entertain and my apparent lack of sleep had tired me out and so, he told me to sleep and I was extremely grateful I could relax for a while. Once I woke up, we were perhaps 50km from Terespol and it was nearly midnight. He told me I could stay for a day or two in Terespol if I wanted, to rest, before going to Ukraine.
I suppose he explained the situation to his mother-in-law and I was given a warm blanket and a pillow and spent a very rejuvenating and comfortable night in their living room. I spent a day there and met his two daughters, aged 8 and 3, so they spoke absolutely no English nor Russian, so it was quite amusing trying to communicate with them. They had giggle fits every time I tried saying something in Polish. I then tried to go to Ukraine… a very unsuccessful attempt. After much frustration, I decided to call it quits and head back to France. Being in southern Poland, I decided I’d take a break in Bratislava where Pavol lives, so as to take a day’s break before going to France. Going from southeastern Poland to France seemed impossible to do in one day while the sun was still up. I had one more negative encounter hitchhiking in Poland, this time with a Lithuanian truck driver, but again, nothing major, and I was extremely relieved to be out of Poland and in Slovakia, where, for some reason, more people spoke Russian or German than in Poland.
I hitchhiked into Slovakia with a Slovak truck driver, communicating in a mixture of German and Russian, but no major communication problems existed. He took me all the way to Bratislava. I was able to get in touch with Pavol and stayed a night at his place then headed out the next morning towards France. Knowing ahead of time that hitchhiking through Austria is slow, I decided to go by way of the Czech Republic. It was a breeze to go through this way. From Bratislava to Brno, I got a ride within 2 minutes with a Czech businessman who spoke English. Then from Brno to just around Prague, the 2nd car that passed by me stopped, which happened to be a Czech truck driver who spoke a little bit of German and Russian. Then from a rest area near Prague, the 3rd car that passed by me stopped. I was hesitant since it was a Polish license plate, and yes, he was Polish and language was an issue, but no matter, he sped me all the way to Germany in about an hour.
Once in Germany, I could resort to German or English (mainly German since I want to become fluent by the end of the year) and I waited no more than 3 minutes on average (it was raining) for cars to stop and the last driver that picked me up was a Swiss diplomat who went out of his way to drop me off about 1 km from Strasbourg before heading south to Bern. My vacation ended smoothly and despite a couple mishaps along the way, I don’t regret anything and it was truly one hell of a trip.
My few days back in Strasbourg were spent mainly cleaning, packing, meeting old friends, and taking care of any other minor details in preparation for my departure. I hitchhike to Paris from Strasbourg and spent my last day in the first European city I fell in love with before boarding the plane back home. I managed to smuggle some unpasteurized fresh cheeses from France and surprisingly border control said nothing. The only thing the border control officer said to me as he was taking my fingerprints and flipping through my passport was, "So, Miss Kim, you seem to travel a lot. Are you planning on using up all your visa pages before your passport expires?" His comment made me grin and I answered, "If at all possible, why not? Traveling is a passion of mine." He grinned back and I passed through to hand in my customs declaration where the officer, luckily, did not smell my Camembert and brie.
Out of the airport with my luggage, I spotted my mother right away, a small blond woman leaning eagerly over the railing with eyes narrowed as she seemed to scan the faces of every female traveler with a backpack. "Mom!" Recognizing my voice, she ducked under the railings to hug me, tears in her eyes. I was quite shocked to see how happy she was to see me. Usually she was not so emotional on the phone... So now I'm back in the States. I'll be leaving for another adventure soon, so, until then, my life is going to be rather... boring =(
