Belgium, land of the flemish

the weather was still a bit chili, regardless, with six countries under my belt, i was confident i could easily catch up. miguel had already hit a checkpoint in belgium the night before with arnaud and lucas. starting early i hit a few rides with the help of my cardboard sign. a few hours into it and i was already in antwerpen where i needed to be. but i was wrong. i mistook the address once again. our flemish friends were in ghent attending the university. belgium is tiny from any angle so i wasnt far. however, this 30km was one of the harder tasks on the to do list. by the time i arrived in the right town it was after dusk. i tirelessly walked about looking for an address guided be foreign strangers. none of which seemed to know where i needed to go. i wandered around back and forth looking for a bus stop map. when i finally found one, i heard "israel!!!!" shouted in my direction. i turned around and saw the only people in belgium to know my name, miguel and lucas. haha! what a coincidence, just my luck. laughed, shook hands, hugged and back to the flat. we helped set up some furniture from Ikea and pre-gamed a few duvals with some of their friends. after a home cooked dinner, we got ready and hit the party filled streets.

strolling into one of the guys' girlfriends' flat, tight and filled with college girls. dressed casually with bright socks they unanimously giggled at us americans and our plain whites. we tried, but failed convincing them to tag along. the conversation died down and we were off to a club in order to find a new rhythm. in the club we were all sipping drinks on a stairway, watching white people dance badly. mingling around, we met this cute girl name laura. she was a big fan of texas- houston in particular. we chatted, maybe even danced a bit (cant remember) and she was gone.  plan b was to crash a frat style party.  €5 cover charge.. Pfft. that would feed me fore days. it was easy to get in but we ended up leaving early.

drinking the night away, we walked back home relatively safe. the next morning it was time again to hit the road, leaving the flems behind. our next destination would be with miguels family in lyon, france. our lyon sign was  massive, dimensions approximately 8ft x 2.5ft. it took the both of us to hold it. it didnt really work because people passing by thought it was a joke. eventually we caught a frenchman who heading to nice. quik spliff and back on the side of the road. france wasnt as easy to hitch as we remembered, or maybe it was just the fact there was two of us. whatever it was, it took a whole day and we only made it to paris. when our last car drove off, miguel noticed a crucial part of everything we needed was missing. his infamous green backpack! on the floorboard of our nice drivers car. in it his passport, laptop and other goodies. we were fucked (well mostly him). at least we were back in paris. we tried calling a few contacts registered in our little black book. people we met previously in the city, no luck. starving, miguel bought a € burger from mcdonalds and got the cashier to comp him one more for me. i fed against my views, but i made sure it would be the last time i ever ate mcdonalds. looking for a campground in the city we stumbled onto a lot where a circus was setting up. the humble giant at the gate let us in and tried to put us up for the night, but we were too much of a liability. why dont you try over there? the lot across the street was big, also gated. used to store construction material for roads. the breech in security via hole in the fence, indicated someone had been here before. we explored a hobo spot, already set up was dining table, grill area and a cozy lounge. im sure wherever this guy is, he wont mind us marveling at his place. i started up the buddy burner and heated up a double portioned can of beans. back to the big problem. in two weeks there would be an airplane scheduled to pick us up at the airport in barcelona. miguel didnt have a passport and time was running out. deep in my thick pleather jacket i pulled out a baggy i made from the bottom of a cigarette box.

inside was a piece of white widow i unknowingly imported from holland. enough to load my pipe, miguel joined in, polishing a rough night. miguel was giggling, taking it easy, as if there were no problems. we laid and stared at the stars, incredibly brilliant above.