Squareholes

Amsterdam is not such a big city. Getting to the launchpad was only a short bus ride. The spot was good. With good traffic and lots of space for cars to stop. The sun was shining, the birds were probably singing far away from the highway… The only way for us to not get a ride would be that the Amsterdamers have no heart.
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Hitchhiker commando

As you all certainly remember, the plan was that, instead of going home from Paris the same way we had already crossed Germany, we would take a pretty long detour North. For no other reason than hitchhiking a few hundred kays in the Netherland. No survey of the babe-hitchhikability of Western Europe is complete without our favourite upstuck Northern friends, right? It only takes the guts to risk death through immobility. I was up for the challenge. And Weirdo… Who cares about him anyway.

Let’s open this little adventure with a quick recount of how sucky it is to hitchhike from a big place like Paris.
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Cutting up highway fences

Getting our of megacities is a hitchhiker trope. It is almost impossible. Paris is no exception. For our direction, we had three options. One very hard but from an easily accessible spot, one in the heart of the Massy-Palaiseau banlieue that looked like medium-hard, and one for which we had to ride the S-bahn for more than an hour but that dropped us in a village by a péage. So easy.

An easy spot out of a megapolis? We just had to check it out.
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Hitchhiking 700 kays on a Sunday afternoon

That bastard Uncle Hugo bailed on us at the last minute. We were supposed to go hiking in the mountains with him, but he probably decided that getting drunk with his buddies was a better idea. We found ourselves with no plan for the week. So I decided we should take Auntie Amalia home in Paris and spend a few days there. After not debating at all about the means of transportation, we all agreed to hitchhike up there. It was Sunday midday, after a 3-days weekend.

You guys might not be familiar with mixing hitchhiking and Sundays. So here’s a couple of facts for you: Sundays means no trucks, no professionals, and a whole bunch of families on a weekend trip with cars filled with junk to the ceiling.

Common hitchhiker wisdom: You. don’t. travel. on a Sunday.

In particular after a 3-days weekend.

And that’s exactly what we set out to do. Insane, right?

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Through the no-man’s-land

Getting to Brive was going to be tricky. We were leaving the heavy duty highways that had German drivers on them for the low-density franco-french highway of the Massif Central. It’s the middle of France, I bet you didn’t know that.

We needed to get to Brive the same day before 14. So I got Weirdo to get up at 6, load me, still sleeping, and the stuff and get to the hitchhiking spot already. I woke up already there, in one of those typical cafés where he was hard at work having breakfast.
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In the Silicon Valley with the Macbook hippies

We’ve been in the Silicon Valley for more than a week now. In case you don’t know (I didn’t until last week), the Silicon Valley is a pretty cool place. In a week, we went to a thick forests of super-high trees, a community of woods-people, a big abandoned industrial zone full of cool trash, and a useless beach. Why useless? Because the Silicon Valley has a pretty harsh cold weather, complete with wind and fog. You’d be crazy to want to go to the beach.

We live in this huge intentional community. A cluster of houses with 25 people living there. I’m not sure of the intention behind the community, but from what I have seen, it seems to be a MacBook owner club. Weirdo and cranky must look very silly with their cheap Linux laptop. That’s OK though, they’re used to it. Continue reading In the Silicon Valley with the Macbook hippies

Getting dirty in Central America.

Hitchhiking was so ridiculously hard in Southern-South-America that we ended up losing quite a bit of our edge. Salvador is where we turn it all around.

Salvador, day one

We flew there from Rio. Our actual destination was Yucatan, in Mexico, but flying to Yucatan means flying to Cancun which is one of the most overpriced tourist destination in America which is very much reflected in the plane ticket prices. Or so says Cranky. So she booked a ticket to Salvador, that was like half the price. I wanted to tell her that there may be a reason why Salvador was so cheap, and that we might not like that reason. I should have. The reason is: shotguns.

There are guys wearing fake uniforms, holding a shotgun everywhere in Salvador. Bank? Shotgun-guy. Supermarket? Shotgun guy. Gas station? Shotgun guy. This has got to be the richest shotgun-fetish-country we’ve ever been to. I mean, shotguns can’t be cheap, right?

When we landed, we didn’t know that yet. All we knew was that it was already 3pm and the kids in Yucatan were waiting for us. And we owed it to ourselves to make it to the Mexican border hitchhiking all the way. Continue reading Getting dirty in Central America.