i was free at last, released from the torture chamber. out in the open world and not a clue of what to do next. so i improvised. i found really expensive internet, about two pounds a half hour on a network that had to be the latest in dialup. out of all the potential hosts i got denied by some, no answer from most, and one with vague directions on meeting up at a subway stop at a certain hour. one accept an hour away in kent but no phone numbers. at this point, i hated heathrow, london, and england altogether. i wanted out, so i looked for a bus station heading to the next town for hitchhiking out of the country. my biological clock was telling me it was midnight, but it was mearly after noon when i found a station and a bus heading to gillingham. twelve pounds. it was expensive but i'd pay anything to get out of london. an hour later i boarded a bus heading south. in which i was the only person under the age of sixty-five, wondering exactly where i was heading. fuck it, im too tired. after leaving the city limits i got to take a nap. the bus stopped briefly, but i conveniently and purposely stayed alseep until the next big stop. groggy eyed i got up after hearing the engine stop running and asked the bus driver "how many miles until canterbury?" the bus driver replied in a shocked manner "son, were in canterbury, you've missed your stop." i faked an 'oh no, im so sorry' and got my pack. i'd like to thank all the dumb tourists for making scenarios like this common. without them, i'd have to pay double (or the correct fare) for traveling some places. the bus stop was pretty close to the city, all commercial and no nature to pitch a tent. it was late May but in england it meant it was cold and wet. not ideal for laying a cardboard mattress in an alley. i found WIFI outside a hamburger joint that shall remain nameless and logged on with less that 5% battery. as soon as i was able to get through the 'hotspot-sign-in' mumble jumble and into my couchsurfing account, my laptop died. i took out my charger and realized i had the wrong port for charging. DAMN THE ENGLISH AND THEIR STUPID OUTLETS! i walked a few blocks looking for either a cyber cafe or electronics store to buy a converter. no luck, so i walked back once again crossing a group of homeless people eyeing me down. right across the street was a poundland* (a chain of cheap items for only a pound, the english equivalent of a dollar store). low and behold, they had the converter i needed. i bought it right at closing time. in england, everything closes at 6. hooray for me. i rushed back to the burger joint and since i have strict views on boycotting this chain, they refused to let me charge my computer. well fuck you right back. i walked back down a few blocks again, playing my guitar this time. no real plan but to ask for a nice spot to camp for the night. seeing the homeless, and realizing their experience with the outdoors i walked up to them befriend them with cigarettes. there was four of them, comfortably sitting on the ground drinking cider and smoking recycled tobacco from butts they found on the floor."do you mind if i smoke a cig here?" i asked. and since the camels i gave them were a luxury in their eyes, they happily accepted. "thanks fow the fags mai', wheau you frum?" they asked "im from texas, i just landed and had to get away from london". "gouwd choiz mai', have sum sai'da". we shared a like for tobacco, a dislike for authority, and a bit of alcoholic cider since i had never tried it before. they requested some songs ive never heard of and some i had but didnt know how to play. either way, we got along well. the sun started to go down so i asked them if they knew a place i could camp for the night. one started giving me directions on how to get out of the congestion and under some trees while another bumped him and whispered " the mate cood stay widdas, can'ee?" he quickly changed to "ouw, you cood stay widdas. we stayin in the fowest mai', bi-yu'iful naichur mai', no one weull bover you". fuck it, lets see where i'll end up tonight. i followed him to the bus stop and spent two pounds on the public transit out of the center. i shouldve pay attention to where we were headed but i didnt. i just followed. our stop was up in a far away neighborhood. we walked across the street into an open field and made our way into the woods with only a small trail to guide us there. we crossed some railroad tracks and then a small gate onto another winding path through thorned trees. our route forked out and we were lost temporarily until hitting a marked tree. "this way mai". another few minutes of walking led us to an open campground with five others tents already pitched around a fire. i met the others who were quickly trying to make space for me in one of their tents. "thanks but i have a tent of my own"."oh thas brilliant mai'." one helped me pitch it up and i started scatering everything out of my new pack, even my old backpack. i made sure i took everything i needed and walked over to the one mate that brought me to the woods. "here you go kev, its all yours" he tried to refuse but i insisted. i was just given one, so i had to pass on the genorousity. "take it, itll be of some use for you and itll just be extra weight for me". kev was in his fifties, living in several cities throughout england only months at a time. he was leaving canterbury within a few days so this backpack couldnt have had better timing. he was truly grateful and in exchange he became protective of me. that night, the others would tease eachother and when they would tease me he would bark at them to stop. "its okay, kev, no harm done" i would giggle. i would sit silently by the fire and he would ask "izrayell, you alrigh'? au you hungry mai'? we've go' food, take wha'eva you like" he was the proud owner of a tent with a stockpile of canned food. there was also steve-o, a young lad in his early twenties, and his girflriend who must have been around forty. they had a child together of which they didnt have custody of. problems with their parents, altogether just a rough life. upon meeting them i gave them a couple of american coins. simple gifts. practically nothing on my part, but to them it was enough to develope a strong bond, a trust you find with only your closest friends. we were experiencing living in the woods together, away from the shops and fat businessmen. i came as a tourist, and i had these homeless mates taking good care of me. later that night, they explain the woods were training grounds for the british navy. wicked. this is where i ended up tonight. the fired faded to embers, and slowly everyone headed off to bed. goodnight. i got a good eight hours of delicous sleep that night. around seven in the morning i woke up and joined the others for a simple breakfast of beans and black tea. we chatted until around ten, a couple of them already taking sips from the gin bottle, and i went back to the tent for a nap. a few hours later, i was awaken by the sounds of walkie talkies and new voices. the group had desperation and worry in their tone when they talked. police? wtf is going on? my heart pounded, i wasnt supposed to get in trouble, i made a promise. after a few minutes i got enough courage to peak through my tent window. kev was dizzily sitting on the ground, drooling blood, with five paramedics around him, one handing him water from a plastic bottle. my heart raced even more. i unzipped the tent door halfway, and stuck half my body out, on my way to be by kevins side. but steve-o's girlfriend caught a glimpse of me and signaled me to wait in the tent. i sat there, veins pumping intensely through my whole body, watching the paramedics take kev out of the campsite. it took some time for my blood pressure to regulate. the others informed me of kevs condition, he had stomach ulcers, but this day was particularly bad. with the whole incident, things were quiet. jon was still drinking gin, pissed drunk at this point and spotted a passerby through dense woods. he started cussing at the shady character which lured him over. he came over in camoflauge and an oversized bacpack full of military gear. they shouted angrily back and forth and the military guy warned us to be out of the campsite by the next morning. "ou fak off!" babbled jon with the rest of the crew trying to hush him up. the tight group from yesterday was falling apart. maybe it was only picture perfect for my arrival. a friend of a friend came by the camp shortly after the camo'd tough guy had left. i chatted with him bit about texas as i packed my tent. "i need to find internet, and just in case i cant find my way back through the woods, ill take everything."."you need needa use the web mai'? you can cum use i't a' ma place, is neerby?". " yea sure thanks" and i off i went following yet another stranger. on the way to his flat, he explained how he would love to travel like me, but his heroin addiciton wouldnt allow him to leave his city for more than a few days. he was now perscribed a synthetic drug to mimmic the addictive chemicals in heroin. only given a limited dosage, he had to refill at the local pharmacy every two or three days. i wondered what i was getting myself into, but didnt panic. everyone around me seemed to be living a tough life, while I was having fun on vacation.
the night was full of goodbyes. i didnt get any sleep because i was so anxious for what was to come. waking up before the sun my parents did me the favor of dropping me off at the airport. parked in the departures lane, i gave my dad a strong hug and kissed my mom goodbye. at the counter, i checked in alone. virtually no line through customs and wondering what to think of it all. i was about to embark on a new journey halfway across the globe. this time, the longest, most intense and by myself. i killed time by playing super mario world on my laptop and spent the first flight speaking spanish with the mexican heading to puerto rico. bragging to him about my previous travels on low budgets, squeezing as much life out of life as possible. "go ahead and experience new things" i told him. "Just do it" like i was once told. my two decades of experience were inspiring in a way. He was mildly captivated and wished me luck, promising to keep in touch. the second flight, Houston- Washington DC, didnt go quite the same. A DC native sat next to me and a conversation got started. where are you headed? he asked. "london" i replied. he nodded and grinned like his face was a one thumb up. "but I'm heading to a little bit of the middle east, and egypt" i couldnt resist. his eyes widened slightly this time, he was listening. "what part?" he calmly asked. still being arrogant i said "well you know, Israel, jordan, but i really wanted to see syria". "syria? theres some things going down over there" He began explaining the politics behind all the mania in the middle east. His intent was merely to inform, not to discourage. This guy was no joke, I'm used to people with no experience giving me advice about traveling. i usually pretend these strangers are giving me credible insight, and later on brush off the nonsense they blabbered about. but he was different. he knew his shit. Now, I was listening. we went off non-stop conversing about life and its many complexities. human nature, different cultures, small things people arent aware of in their routine lives, him having children, me being a child, having parents. all with at least two points of view. we clicked, on que. he put things into perspective for me from his experience. I understood most of it and questioned what i didnt. so much humble wisdom was bluetoothed from his brain onto mine. the conversation eventually became very technical and wore us out a bit. i fell asleep for a little while and awoke to him asking me more about my gear. "I have it all" i told him. "in and around my (school) backpack i have my home, office, kitchen, studio, workshop, closet, ". " you need one that straps to your hips" he insisted. i know but you take what you can get" i laughed. once landing he excused himself and called his daughter next to me. "I just landed sweety, come pick me up. Oh and that backpack thats in the basement, bring that too". the pilot came on and released us from the airbus. on the way out, he asked me to walk him out. i dont know much about airplane rules but i walked him out anyway. we made it to his two seater convertible bmw on the pick up lane and he pulled out a proper pack for backpacking. "i want you to have it" he said. just like that, and handed it over. i tried to declining but he genuinely wanted it for me with nothing in return. maybe he noticed the glimmer in my eyes when i saw it."put some miles on it!" he said and drove off. it was a perfect fit when i tried it on. i couldnt be any happier. so far, so good. i smoked a cigarette outside meanwhile discovering pockets, zipping, unzipping, strapping down, buckling, tightening and loosening my new pack. unfortunately, i had to start the whole process again to get to the gates. hurry up and wait in a line was the procedure. the line in DC was excruciatingly long. the closer i got to the x ray machines, the more i wondered if this new gift on my back would cause more harm than good. what if i was carrying something i wasnt allowed to carry on board? how would i explain this scenario to TSA? "oh yea officer, a complete stranger gave me this bag and i didnt know what was in it." i didnt think that would go down so easy, so i quickly changed the story in my head to "a friend came by to drop it off before i departed" good enough to fool them, you sly dawg, but they didnt even bother to ask. bag clear, guitar clear. it had already been a few hours since i left texas. hunger set in so i bought the cheapest sandwich i could find in the airport, but i also splurged a few extra dollars on cookies. at the gate with the plane heading to heathrow, you could already smell the english coffee. i befriended a trio of blond americans with macadamian nut. they had packs similar to mine so i figured i'd ask where they were heading. "were backpacking london for two weeks and paris for one" they said. their hotels reserved ahead of time. pfft. i didnt bother with emails. i imagined, with their three week budget i could travel a year the way i travel. time came to board, and i was seated next to a couple of american tourists heading to moscow. since i didnt have a host yet, i was secretly hoping to sweet talk a local into letting me crash their couch a day while i figured out the next step. no such luck. the pilot spoke through the speaker, seatbelts on, and i was launched into the sky for the last time. the flight was long and exhausting. you get a choice of lame tv shows or bad music for six and a half hours. with violent shaking randomly in the upright position, i still managed to get about an hour of sleep. happened to be during desert. damn it! thats the only part i like. around six in the morning english time we started circleing london. i couldnt wait to land. after a half hour of loops in the air, we started decending. the tires screeched, making everyone slightly bounce off their seats, and we finally had contact with the earth again. this time in the european hemisphere, safely rolling to a stop. the captain came on the intercom and handed us over to the authorities. it was like a bouch of cattle forming lines again. the NON-EU line was shorter but definitely not faster. when it was my turn i walked up to the counter and out of all the immigration officers i got one old hag with a pissy face on. she must have missed breakfast or something. i handed over the little piece of paper they have you fill out, stating i would be in the UK only for two days. after an evening of work, a sleepless night, 18 hours of airports, lines, waiting, flying, more airports, more lines, more waiting, i wasnt as charismatic as my usual self. the conversation went a little like this.
I.O. how long will you be in the UK?
me- one day but i put two just in case
I.O. -where will you be staying?
me- with a friend
I.O.- whats your friends name?
me- uhh, jonathon
I.O.- his FULL name.
me- uhh, langford
I.O.- how do you know jonathon?
me- through the internet
I.O.- where does jonathon live?
(i almost giggled at the thought of both of us trying to figure out where this fictional character lived)
me- im not so sure, i have to check the internet. worst case ill book a hostel
I.O.- which hostel?
me- smart russel sqaure (the hostel i stayed at my first time in london)
I.O.- whats the address to this hostel?
me-(this time i giggled) im not sure, ill have to check the internet.
I.O.- where are you heading after UK?
me- belgium
I.O.- and after belgium?
me- germany
I.O.- and after germany?
me- im heading to egypt, and ill be crossing any country on the way by land
I.O.- how long will you be traveling?
me- five or six months, (i was being honest) but i would like to get to the middle east as fast as possible
I.O.-then why did you come to the UK?
me- it was the cheapest flight into europe
I.O.- how much money do you have in the bank?
me- four or five hundred dollars
I.O.- No
me No?
I.O.- its not possible
me- it is very possible, this is how i travel.
I.O.- do you have a return ticket?
me- no
I.O.- how will you get home?
me- if i need to i will phone home for extra money
I.O.- what do your parents do for a living?
me- im sorry, is there a problem?
I.O.- yes, I need to figure out why you are here
me- yes, i told you already, im heading to egypt by land.
I.O.- with trains, hotels and restaurants, you will spend your money in a couple of days
me- yes but i hitch hike, stay with friends, and cook my own food.
I.O.- even then how will you stretch four hundred dollars for six months? are you planning to work?
me- no, i just finished working and i have more money coming in.
I.O.- How much money?
me- look, i just came to england because it was a cheap flight. ill be in belgium tomorrow out of the UK so i dont see the problem
I.O.- you look, its up to me to decide whether or not you enter the country. so i would change the attitude.
me- youre right, im sorry, im just very exhausted from traveling all the way from texas and i would like to get some food.
I.O.- ... wait here. ill get some one else to see you.
me. someone else to see me?
she took my passport, closed her counter and went away to fetch another officer. meanwhile i was told to wait at a bench with three brown guys wearing caps with a mexico logo, a small group of africans and a family of muslims. being american this was a category i wasnt expecting to ever be in. fucking english immigration, as if their country was so great. i was getting ansy and embarressed at the same time. the whole line of passengers on my same flight made it through with ease. even the three blonde bimbos pretended i didnt exist. what the hell is going on, am i dreaming? another flight arrived, and they all made it through with time to spare before they put the attention back on me. two officers came to escort me, "come with us please". no one else got escorted, i started to worry. they, one male of turkish decent and a shorter female both with heavy london accents, took me to get my luggage. a single backpack layed on an otherwise empty conveyer belt. the officers showed me to a spotless slerling silver table, patted me down and asked me to empty my belongings. i complied and started dumping my things out of my bag. they searched with caution, slowly checking everything with latex gloves for some unknown reason. a belt, random t shirts, a tent, a rolled up tarpouline, a laptop, a guitar, extra pair of shoes, an extra backpack, a bank bag with assorted pliers, screw drivers, key rings, coins from foreign countries amongst goofy random items such as a necktie, a cape, a butterfly knife, all laid out. i fussed," i dont understand the problem, am i in trouble?". they said "we dont know but weve been told to detain you. once i was cleared, i was showed to a seperate room, one the likes of normal tourists never get see. "were going to take some photographs of you, sit there please" i sat in front of a household digital camera and prepared myself for a mugshot. "take off your hat please" the lady officer said."okay but im not combing my hair" i whined jokingly. by the time i was finished being fingerprinted there was a set of four prepherated photo prints with my face on it. "hey i kinda like this picture, you think i could keep one?". she smiled and tore me off a piece. even if i got deported it would make a nice souvenir. they took me to another room deeper in the mysterious 'behind the scenes' heathrow. in a new room, i was searched again and seperated from my bag. a nice staff member with my passport in his hands asked with enthusiasm " youre from texas, what are you doing in london?". i replied with "ive come a very long way and im not in london yet, whats going on? i just want to get out of here". he frowned " they are looking for someone to interview you". "interview me? how long is this all going to take?" he politely said "i havent a clue, he could be on his way now, or it could take several hours". i hissed" arhh, well im hungry. i need to eat something, are you just going to starve me here?" he giggled at my impatience and points to a small fridge filled with sanwiches. " youre hungry, take whatever you like, and theres a coffee machine over there". i calmed down and thanked him. i took a sanwich and stuffed it in my mouth without thinking twice. he smiled and said "i cant stay with you but if you need anything ill be in the next room". he walked over to his work space, i could see him clearly through two window panes. another sandwich, two coffees and a water. the machine was selling cups once upon a time, the type that spits a new cup everytime with the correct amount of fluid, but was now rigged so you didnt have to pay. i took advatage of this, and pushed the buttons even though i wasnt thristy, starting a collection of coffee cups. i paced back and forth for a few minutes and decided i was too tired to stress. i spotted a leather lounge chair, one you could find in a therapists' office, and decided to lay down. once there, i noticed the surveillance camera pointed at me, recording every second. WTF? the minute hand on the clock on the wall did a full rotation before i gave up. i used my bandana as a blindfold, my jacket as a blanket and tried to get some sleep. after some time a lady came in pushing a cart. i removed my blindfold to find she was part of the cleaning crew. i tried to say hello but she was foreign and didnt speak english. she simply ignored me and scurried away. to her, i was the criminal being detained. and to me, how she managed to get a job at the airport, especially cleaning rooms of immigration officers will remain a mystery. the nice englishman came back with cookies and apologized for the wait. i told him "its okay, i know its not your fault, but thanks". i ate the cookies and went back to sleep. some hours later the door opened again and a tall chubby officer woke me up with the sounds of his loud footsteps. "Izrayelle Kevazus" he summoned, i got up and walked over to him, calmly not to startle and forced my best smile before shaking his hand. he sat me in a chair in a room within the detaining cell i was already in and shut the door. "i will be conducting a formal interview". "no problem, i will tell you everything you need to know" i smiled and asked politely this time " but i dont understand, why i am being detained? did i do something wrong? im being treated like a criminal, i promise ill leave the country today if i have to". he looked at me said "thats not the problem, if you go off to europe and get into trouble you will be sent back here and the british government will have to pay for a flight to deport you. so, i need you to be very honest with me because if youre lying, or i think you are lying i will just deport you now.". holy fuck! this whole process was to deport me? ive looked at maps, made plans, found work, and told many many people about this trip for months. and it could all be over before i even set foot in england. i did my best to cooperate. the interview began with basic questions: name, birthdate, address. writing down both every word he asked and every word i answered. then the questions got more and more personal, whats your education level, married or single, have you ever been convicted of any crime, what do you do for a living, how much money in your bank account, what do you parents do for a living, how much do they earn a year etc. i explained ive been traveling for a few years, and had a travel blog on the internet. i pulled out a homemade business card with a QR code link to ziggyflairs.blogspot with the print 'ziggy was here' on one side and my email address on the other. i travel on a low budget on purpose, its the only way to get a real adventure. he wasnt impressed. after an hour on the hot seat, he put his pen down removed his reading glasses "well that concludes the interview. i believe you were honest with me however it is not my choice to decide. i will pass this on to my boss and he will decide." he asked me to sign the document and wait. indeed a formal interview, about three pages long of some very private information. and having no other choice, i did. after 45 minutes the same chubby officer came back with a sheet of paper. i glanced at it to find a T chart list of pros and cons about me entering the country. the cons far outweighed the pros. he sat back down in his seat and said "well izrell, normally in a situation like this we'd be sending you back home. But, today is an especially busy day here at heathrow and to deport you would take another five hours of paperwork. i think it'll be much easier just to give your passport a stamp." relief set in, no longer feeling the heat pulsating in my face i smiled and said. "yes, thank you, that would be much easier." hearing the sound of a new stamp on my passport is always great but this one was heaven. i put away my passport and before i could leave he says "stay out of trouble please, i dont want to see you in here again." i replied with "no worries, you will never ever in your life ever see me again." and left before he could change his mind.
with things to worry about, we fled paris as soon as we woke up. our last driver unknowingly drove off with an extremely important item, miguels passport amongst other valuables. we only had his first name, that he worked at a supermarket franchise, and the city he lived in to go off. the hunt was on. we continued towards lyon, unshowered, collecting grime and developing an acquired smell. a laid back french futbol player picked us up and dropped us off at a roundabout after a half hour ride. miguel and i stood side by side sharing earbuds connected to his ipod. thumbs in the air singing along to lighten the mood. we kept momentum heading south eventually hitting Villefranche-sur-Mer by nightfall. miguel used a payphone to get in contact with his aunt in the suburb. she picked us up and we were on the way to a new sanctuary. the car doors closed and our smell started to leak through thick clothing. "Ewww, Apestan! deben bañarse" jaja. she scolded us in spanish for our stench. trust me, a shower is the only thing on my mind. i havent mentioned i wasnt shaving for this trip. my beard was a well traveled month and a half. even with the shower, i looked like a hillbilly caveman. but hey, i had a good chunk of time off and went wild. their home was warm and cozy. miguel sat and logged into the office computer upstairs. calm, until he read his messages. he jumped off his chair, arms in the air an shrieked. "heheyy" chuckling with excitement "its the driver! he found my passport!". what a relief! this nice guy was kind enough to find him on facebook. miguel replied with a "Je suis très jolie!". a package would be on its way to us in a matter of days. that first night started on fire. time to put all the excitement away and get some rest. the next morning we did chores and alejandra showed us around some nearby vinyards. i stole handfulls of left-over grapes from the recent harvest. southern france souldn't be any more beautiful. Staying with miguels relative was not what i expected. His aunt was humble and incredibly generous, with the rule of cleanliness to back her up. around the house we teamed up for dinner. every dish was to be washed righ after use. all together we came up with french style tamales, using duck fat instead of pork, and fresh vegetables from her back yard. we even had brownies for desert, my belly couldnt be more filled with happiness. the next morning, our clothes were washed, dried, fresh and ready to hit the town in. his aunt drove us out to the highpoint for some extraordinary sights. for brunch near a musical stream we combatted the brisk breeze with crepes and sugar cakes. at the plaza closer to town, we bumped into a group of kid skaters blowing off some steam. i used my few phrases to make friends and borrow a board for myself. yep, i'm as bad as i remembered. half the day was spent strolling around and enjoying the weather until his aunt offered to take us to lyon. we arrived to the exact opposite. there were policemen, pedestrians and protesters overrunning the town. store front windows were shattered by rocks and tear gas equally launched back at civilians. we wanted to take a closer look, but at our best behavior, under the supervision of miguels aunt, we stayed put. a bookstore provided shelter and distractions from the outside world. when the violence died down, we were free to roam around once again until dinner time. fast forward another awesome plate, hot shower, and a good nights rest. the next day we took a bus back into lyon to visit miguels other cousin thomas. alex and her friend charlotte were joining us more like guiding us until we got to alex's brother. since he was living in the city he became the certified tour guide of our group. he brought us to some historical sites, high viewpoints of the town, the university, and eventually a pub. no german? ill take a deutch bier. after a quick drink we cooked a late lunch and ate together. there was a light conversation going on half english half frenglish. but all that was on my mind was this beautiful french girl across the table. my plan was to play it cool B) but i knew i'd be competing against comrad. he had his eyes on her too. after our tummies digested it was time to head back, and guess who joined the slumber party?? this mystery girl was tagging along, and it was difficult to read her thoughts. i think shes flirting with you, but i think shes flirting with me too. damn! i could make it hard for both of us to get her, or i could distract his cousin so he could work his magic. either way, the trains were running but not the bus, damn strikers- with your stupid unions! we were stuck out there and had to call her mom to get us. she wasnt happy about that. the car ride back was quiet other than the scoldings aimed at the girl in the front seat. we arrived and scurried into the room like squirrels would from a 4 year old. we felt safe again, chatting before bedtime. no magic, gnight. the next day charlotte was gone, window of oppurtunity vanished. chores were done so i moped around, and turned on the tv. cee lo green's "fuck you" music video was blasting through the screen uncensored. I CANT BELIVE WHAT THIS GUY IS SAYING! but i love it! the rest of the day was uneventful other than miguel receiving his package. that meant it would be our last day. another great dinner and more computing, communicating back home before it was time to sleep. we awoke around 6, before the sun had a chance to peak over the horizon. before leaving, his aunt stuffed our bags with preservable food and chocolate. when we stepped outside, the chill grabbed me by the the shoulders and gave me a good shake before i realized everything was covered in ice. i guess a cold front had hit overnight and painted outside completely white. his aunt was kind enough to drop us off at a tollbooth with plenty of slow moving traffic. however, we were too puny to face the elements. we sought shelter from the wind, and let the sun warm the frigid outdoors for an hour or so. when the temperature wasnt freezing, we went out and got back to work. next stop was Spain, the last country on our european tour.
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.
Jorge joined forces for this hitch. the day started with a chubby german adolecent giving us a lift. ill take you to holland no problem he said with a smile. we ended up cruising through a neat little town, split by the national german/nederland border. imagine the neighbor across the street was in another country. oh snap! i didnt even realize we left the highway please take us back. he was dumbfounded, like taking dropping us off in town was a bad idea, which it definitely was. no hard feelings, asshole. taking us off the route. 12 km away was an ideal petro station. translation= a few miles, which doesnt seem so bad until youre walking it. fuck that its like 8 hours of walking. cars werent picking us up and comrad began yelling at the drivers out of frustration. Am*dam! so close, yet so far. we gave up and started down the highway, when the magic, as always, happened. a vw bus pulled over and the dutch family took us in. cute foreign toddlers strapped and speaking their first phrases. it was a short ride but put us back on track. wet set up at an onramp with an intersection. pretty blonde nederland girls smiled and waived as they passed by. this raised our spirits, and we got our next ride. a young afghan couple headed to utrecht. we talked about the food, Farsi and other non-controversial aspects of life in afghanistan. kind people. the day was already gone when we were let off in a petrol something like 45km away. we took a break and stank ourselves up with a tuna and whole grain for dinner. a dutch guy was chilin in his parked european car with his girlfriend half bored sipping coffee. jorge was inside so i waived the guy down with the amsterdam sign. hey guy, can you take me and my friend? he glared at me and after a moment decided, eh sure why not. we were loading up the trunk by time jorge came back to a surprise, we would be getting there tonight. our driver took us all the way downtown across from the grand train station. the night was drowned out by all the city lights. we went sought internet and an interesting aroma lured us into an internet cafe. it was dense with smoke but i was able to check couchsurfing.com enough to communicate with my host. Patrick accepted me as host but he lived in haarlem about 20 min away by train. i guess thats where were heading. we boarded a train and ended up in haarlem right at 11pm or 23:00 hrs and made our way to his flat. some construction re-routed the buses but we eventually found his building. BUZZ... no answer. BUZZZ... no answer. BUZZ BUZZ BUZ BUZZ... still no answer. it was getting late, almost midnight, and jorges frustration began to show again. he was ansy to get settled inside and get some sleep where it was warm. i had a phone number to call so we searched for a pay phone in the area. once again no luck, do pay phones even exist anymore? i spotted a light in the park across the street and headed to take a look for myself. i found a group of teens who were scrambling around as i walked up to them, probably smoking drugs. "hey guys could i borrow a phone? im getting hosted by patrick who lives across the street but i dont think he's home" i told them. "oh" relieved "you need a phone? no problem" one of the guys replied. i called pat to let him know we came early and he would be rushing home on his bicycle. one of the teens gave me a quick lift on his mopad back to the building and pat showed after about 15 minutes. we went up to his place where he lived alone in his late 30's. kind of a creepy guy, but all the hosts in amsterdam were already taken. he was very neat and clean and offered us a late dinner before going to bed. miguel had arleady arrived and found a place in the city so the next day jorge went to meet up with him. out of respect for my host (and a bit of remorse i still had towards miguel for leaving me)
i stayed behind. when pat got off work he took me on a tour of the city a few other places. haarlem was a beatiful place, the windmill we went to was pretty awesome too. look up what windmills are really for, them shits are legit! i asked pat "whats holland known for -foodwise?". "well we usually eat chinese, or burgers, or italian, sometimes even mexican, but if we had a food it would probably be potatoes mashed or in a soup". fucking ey, i love potatoes! and soups! we cooked dinner and ate in silence. not much to talk about, which is weird because i usually have something to say. the rest of the evening was a bit awkward so we just sat in front of the tv. half the channels were in english, but i prefered the complex language of the dutch. sleep came and i was back home in my dreams. the next morning i made breakfast and let pat know i'd be going to amsterdam for the day. he was nice enough to give me a copy of the house keys. miguel, jorge and i made plans to meet up at the central station at 4 but i was late, caught a late train, and missed them. fuck it im in amsterdam! i figured my way back to the coffee shops and drooled over all hydroponic weed. well i should but ill splurge, gimme the cheapest shit. a gram of white widow set me back 8 euros, and the king-size papers were free, not bad at all. i sat down and a friendly white guy covered in tattoos offered to roll it for me. (in contrast to the US, not many people have tattoos).
sure thing man, he broke up what he needed and mixed it with tobacco. out came a big ass spliff, bob marley style! spark it up, i handed it back to him. we shared about 1/4 of it and that was more than enough. i thanked him and he left. i was so fucking high, all i could focus on was the sugar packets on the table for over an hour. i finally snapped out of it enough to get out and go meet with miguel. along the way, on every corner was souvenir shops selling shirts, wooden shoes, post cards etc. after about a week or so, i finally met up with miguel, and he updated me with his little fling in Copenhagen. we explored amsterdam, checking out the canals, and some amazing street art. night time came and i still had most of the spliff left so we decided to kill it secretly on a sidewalk. SMOKING WEED ON THE STREET IN AMSTERDAM IS ILLEGAL! but we did it anyway cause we're awesome. we snuck on a tram (above-ground electric trolly) and sat in the back, me all stoned and nervous. the three of us were now safe entering a midsize to large apartment big enough for a huge family. there was three of us and i saw at least seven other flatmates zigzagging about.
comfortable night on the couch amongst the peers. the next day i returned to haarlam, i guess thats enough Am*dam to get it out of my system. miguel set the departure date for noon, i went along with it. pats not home, i should make some breakfast and lunch for the road. at the supermarket i was faced with decision that ended up delaying me a whole day. you see there was two different cartons, a 12pk for 1.15 euro and a 36 pk right next to it for 1.85 euro. how could i resist? i hurried back to cook and be back on my way to belgium. when i was heating up the pan i remembered i still had some pot, and loaded my pipe. after a few hits, time was unimportant. i ended up cracking 8 eggs and chopping two lbs of potatoes into the frier. this was supposed to be breakfast AND lunch, but my killer case of munchies wouldnt allow me to stop eating. i finished everything, too full to do anything but sit back and watch tv. looks like belgium would have to wait another day.
a combination of wiki hitch and open minded germans makes getting rides so easy it almost takes the fun out of it. i had time to kill and no real destination in mind so i picked a few citys on the route to amsterdam. in germany, the first two letters of every license plate gives away its owners origin. perfect for spotting a potential lift. within ten minutes, the HH sign i was recommended to make by wiki had me on my way to hamburg. two hours filled with dream theatre later i had made it. my driver dropped me off on the other side of town so i decided walking would be best for sight seeing and a little needed excersize. along the way i took a break at a community skate park. amongst other kids a group of 15 yr old punks were tearing up the place. they were flipping boards off stairs, grinding on rails, even catching huge air on the vertical ramp. damn fearless youngsters! truely amazing to watch. i continued by subway, last station on the route "altona", switching trains with a watchful eye for badges. i emerged and found the building to kits flat. he welcomed me in, shoes outside please. but of course, i just hope my feet dont stink up the place. i sat next to him in the living room and we chatted a bit. "how about we go to dinner!" he offered, "ah, i'd love to but im not on that kind of budget" i replied. "no problem, my treat". i tried to politely refuse but he insisted "its my favorite". we walked to a nearby restaurant and continued the conversation. the next day while he was out at work i caught up on skyping family members and practiced my soup making. when he returned he happily gave me a tour of the reaperbahn, hamburgs red light district. we hit the 99 cent bar for a quick pregame and saw more of the town. our next spot was the sofa bar, exactly what you would think, a bar filled only with couches.
we talked until he noticed a couple of girls and went in for the kill. i thought this poor guy is going to get rejected but instead i was invited to join them. we chatted with the two tourists from switzerland exchanged information and called it a night. my host was pretty short but he had a confidence with women not found in most guys. he confessed he had read neil strauss' "the game" as did i, so we shared a few pickup techniques before hitting the sac. once again he went to work early in the morning and i went with the girls to wander around town for a while. did you know hamburg has a beach? you wouldnt think there would be such a thing in the center of germany but there is.
when kit got home we hit the clubs again and he managed the girls to come over. some more drinks at a cool alternative bar and we kissed the girls good bye. mmm swiss girls are friendly ;) the next day i had to keep moving so i packed lunch and set sail to koln. at least i thought thats where i was headed. i sent couch requests to koln but the one i sent to dusseldorf was the one that accepted me. i hitched rides all day mostly from engineer to engineer, however a dutch trucker driver also waived me into his semi. he was in his early thirties long blonde hair hip guy from amsterdam. he went out of his way to show me 'how i met your mother' on his laptop. finally i arrived at the beautiful church downtown koln and decided to walk alone to kolnerland strasse. i cant find this fucking address! i gave up and phoned emmerich "hey im here in koln but i cant find you"."what?! i live in dusseldorf man, come to dusseldorf" he replied. "alright alright, ill be there as soon as i can" my sense of direction failed me again. frustrated, i actually paid to board a train to my hosts' flat. the tram ride was free and i asked a girl if she could help me find the street. "sorry, i'm not from here" she said. "danke shone" i replied but found it immediately after. around midnight emmerich buzzed me in and i got to meet him in person. "hey man, did you get a little lost haha" he teased. "yea sorry im late, im bad with directions". on his profile had a picture of him with a goofy face and it said he was a balle dancer. this guy is hilarious! the next day i found out he was really a balle dancer. next to his computer there was a binder filled with newspaper clippings of the great shows he was starring in. legit. he didnt have a couch, but it was no problem, the floor is fine as long as its indoors. i got some rest for wandering this new city. dusseldorf didnt have much to see, mostly industry and shopping centers, so i cut the touring short. on the way back to his place i stopped at a market and bought some more groceries. the stove was on food was on, cooking when i remember i was missing garlic. quickly i rushed to the computer for some help with translation. the neighbor answered the door after knocking "hast du ein knoblouch bitte?".
even though i saved the day with quick thinking, my soup making skills were getting worse. emmerich eventually came home with his girlfreind and we were off on our way to a german house party. there was beer, liquor and pot going around and out of courtesy most conversations were in engilsh. i remeber sitting in a foggy room talking under loud rock music. this one girl i sat next to and few forgettable others each had enough body jewelry on their face to pierce a small family at least twice. she noticed my lip ring was missing and offered one of hers. sure thanks. the party was going good. over the course of the night alcohol boiled my brain and the pot baked it. the late night train ride back to dUsZLl3drFF was said to be 30 min but in my condition i also counted in the minutes it took to get there and minutes waiting. it took forever, but we made it back and i settled in my spot on the floor. the next morning meant it was time to go. jorge arrived last minute joining me onward to amsterdam. miguel was finally found, he sent a message through facebook telling me he made it to copenhagen. the girl he was going to see bailed on him so he was turning around racing me to amsterdam. "idiot. im only two hours away" i chuckled in my thoughts. but it was still too early to know the joke was on me. the weather was perfect and wiki hitch provided a great spot walking distance away. next stop amsterdam!
other than the masseus we didnt have much contact with any czech natives. leaving we thought it'd be funny to hitch hike at a bus stop and sure enough a car with german plates pulled over. the two girls offered a lift to berlin. it was a pleasant ride until the radio came on with the news. due to inclimant weather all the roads to berlin were flooded. there was no choice but to stop in dresden germany for the night. we didnt have a host lined up but our experienced led us to a starbucks to post an emergency couch request online. the cashiers waited after closing and our efforts paid off. i can host you, meet me at the bar for raggea night. we wandered the streets looking for the address and stumbled across some teenagers. the tallest one asked us something in german which miguel replied "nein nein nein danke". ignore this guy "sprechensie english?" i asked. he had droopie eyes and long blonde hair leaking from his beanie. he calmly replied "oh ya, i said if you need a place for the night". miguel changed from smartalic to friendly instantly "yah mahn, that would be awesome if thats ok". these guys were complete strangers offering to host us off the street. "we are going to the bank machine for beer money, komm with us". i didnt feel safe joining this group, we could go missing and no one would ever know. that was until he sparked a cigarret "smoke a yoint?" and handed it over. somehow we kept attracting stoner kind into our adventure. now i was thinking these guys are harmless pot smokers, i can make sense of that. christof invited us into his flat, where we shared drinks and stories. it was short night before we'd be back on our way. working on the side walk we tried some new hitch hiking techniques; new dance styles, improv, and even stacked (miguel on my shoulders and vice versa). an iranian driver gave us a ride "i take you in berlin wher i live". for a break we stopped at a car dealership where he worked. he happily introduced us to his coworkers and bought us a couple cups of coffee . he didnt speak great english so on the way i learned as much german as i could unaware it was with a middle eastern accent. the signs on the highway counted down the kilometers and we were finally in berlin. known for the party scene so it wasnt surprising to see the city light up the night. i like to say its the new york of germany. we hopped on a train with decals on the windows, asked a few pedestrians and found our address. since jorge didnt have a place of his own erik provided a place for a few nights. to celebrate our arrivel, another city conquered, we went out to try the famous doner kabobs. similar to a burger, but its turkish origin gave the doner a unique blend of spices that proved to be competitive. quite tasty. berliner brau ended the rest of the evening back at his flat .cristian came over along with his humour and bottle opening tricks. there wasnt anything he couldnt pop the top with. he was an expert in impersonating arnold schwarzenegger, "gett dauunn! gett tu da choppa! gett tu da bote!" we watched some youtube and went to bed. after work erik invited us to play texas holdem with his buddies. TEXAS holdem. we arrived, greeted everyone and started drinking."this my friend, is the ladykiller" erik said introduced me to a glass of mostly vodka, wine and a splash of lemon-lime soda. it was really sweet, i didnt realize how much alcohol i was drinking. i had a few and we headed towards the disco. before entering his friends sparked up a yoint and passed it to me. this shit was strong. we paid cover and went downstairs to the club thick with smoke. i could barely see, much less breathe and the world that seemed so still suddenly started spinning. it wasnt 15 minutes before i got out and puked on the sidewalk sitting indian style. my friends and even staff members i didnt understand were trying to help. i was too fucked up, all i remember was blurry tram rides on the way home. the american who couldnt handle his liquor, the butt of all german jokes. damn ladykillers! i woke up next to miguel, not knowing he went off and made new friends. we packed our things, said goodbye to erik and met up with jorge across town. miguel broke the news he was heading to norway, alone. the thought of him leaving scared me, but i didnt hold him back and he was gone. i went to check out the berlin wall, thinking the whole way. how could he do this? i felt angry he'd betray me. i was so vulnerable to the world with no one to get my back. i arrived at the historical site. the paintings and stories of the wall inspired me to keep moving. i caught a great outdoor ska show at alexanderplatz, in which a hilarious homeless guy stole the show with his harmonica. it lightened my mood before i made it to jorges temporary flat. there was no room so he arranged for me to sleep in a parked station wagon. it was roomy and i slept great. in the morning jorge woke me up and made eggs for breakfast, and some extra for lunch. before going anywhere, i had to lighten up. my gear was unbearable at 40+ lbs, so i ended up giving half my things away including clothes. thanks again jorge for all your hospitality, i couldnt of done it without you. and i was off. i had found a host in hamburg, that was the next stop, solo.
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we shared a like for tobacco, a dislike for authority, and a bit of alcoholic cider since i had never tried it before. they requested some songs ive never heard of and some i had but didnt know how to play. either way, we got along well. the sun started to go down so i asked them if they knew a place i could camp for the night. one started giving me directions on how to get out of the congestion and under some trees while another bumped him and whispered " the mate cood stay widdas, can'ee?" he quickly changed to "ouw, you cood stay widdas. we stayin in the fowest mai', bi-yu'iful naichur mai', no one weull bover you". fuck it, lets see where i'll end up tonight. i followed him to the bus stop and spent two pounds on the public transit out of the center. i shouldve pay attention to where we were headed but i didnt. i just followed. our stop was up in a far away neighborhood. we walked across the street into an open field and made our way into the woods with only a small trail to guide us there. we crossed some railroad tracks and then a small gate onto another winding path through thorned trees. our route forked out and we were lost temporarily until hitting a marked tree. "this way mai". another few minutes of walking led us to an open campground with five others tents already pitched around a fire. i met the others who were quickly trying to make space for me in one of their tents. "thanks but i have a tent of my own"."oh thas brilliant mai'." one helped me pitch it up and i started scatering everything out of my new pack, even my old backpack. i made sure i took everything i needed and walked over to the one mate that brought me to the woods. "here you go kev, its all yours" he tried to refuse but i insisted. i was just given one, so i had to pass on the genorousity. "take it, itll be of some use for you and itll just be extra weight for me". kev was in his fifties, living in several cities throughout england only months at a time. he was leaving canterbury within a few days so this backpack couldnt have had better timing. he was truly grateful and in exchange he became protective of me. that night, the others would tease eachother and when they would tease me he would bark at them to stop. "its okay, kev, no harm done" i would giggle.
i would sit silently by the fire and he would ask "izrayell, you alrigh'? au you hungry mai'? we've go' food, take wha'eva you like" he was the proud owner of a tent with a stockpile of canned food. there was also steve-o, a young lad in his early twenties, and his girflriend who must have been around forty. they had a child together of which they didnt have custody of. problems with their parents, altogether just a rough life. upon meeting them i gave them a couple of american coins. simple gifts. practically nothing on my part, but to them it was enough to develope a strong bond, a trust you find with only your closest friends. we were experiencing living in the woods together, away from the shops and fat businessmen. i came as a tourist, and i had these homeless mates taking good care of me. later that night, they explain the woods were training grounds for the british navy. wicked. this is where i ended up tonight. the fired faded to embers, and slowly everyone headed off to bed. goodnight. i got a good eight hours of delicous sleep that night. around seven in the morning i woke up and joined the others for a simple breakfast of beans and black tea. we chatted until around ten, a couple of them already taking sips from the gin bottle, and i went back to the tent for a nap. a few hours later, i was awaken by the sounds of walkie talkies and new voices. the group had desperation and worry in their tone when they talked. police? wtf is going on? my heart pounded, i wasnt supposed to get in trouble, i made a promise. after a few minutes i got enough courage to peak through my tent window. kev was dizzily sitting on the ground, drooling blood, with five paramedics around him, one handing him water from a plastic bottle. my heart raced even more. i unzipped the tent door halfway, and stuck half my body out, on my way to be by kevins side. but steve-o's girlfriend caught a glimpse of me and signaled me to wait in the tent. i sat there, veins pumping intensely through my whole body, watching the paramedics take kev out of the campsite. it took some time for my blood pressure to regulate. the others informed me of kevs condition, he had stomach ulcers, but this day was particularly bad. with the whole incident, things were quiet. jon was still drinking gin, pissed drunk at this point and spotted a passerby through dense woods. he started cussing at the shady character which lured him over. he came over in camoflauge and an oversized bacpack full of military gear. they shouted angrily back and forth and the military guy warned us to be out of the campsite by the next morning. "ou fak off!" babbled jon with the rest of the crew trying to hush him up. the tight group from yesterday was falling apart. maybe it was only picture perfect for my arrival. a friend of a friend came by the camp shortly after the camo'd tough guy had left. i chatted with him bit about texas as i packed my tent. "i need to find internet, and just in case i cant find my way back through the woods, ill take everything."."you need needa use the web mai'? you can cum use i't a' ma place, is neerby?". " yea sure thanks" and i off i went following yet another stranger. on the way to his flat, he explained how he would love to travel like me, but his heroin addiciton wouldnt allow him to leave his city for more than a few days. he was now perscribed a synthetic drug to mimmic the addictive chemicals in heroin. only given a limited dosage, he had to refill at the local pharmacy every two or three days. i wondered what i was getting myself into, but didnt panic. everyone around me seemed to be living a tough life, while I was having fun on vacation.
. he didnt speak great english so on the way i learned as much german as i could unaware it was with a middle eastern accent. the signs on the highway counted down the kilometers and we were finally in berlin. known for the party scene so it wasnt surprising to see the city light up the night. i like to say its the new york of germany. we hopped on a train with decals on the windows, asked a few pedestrians and found our address. since jorge didnt have a place of his own erik provided a place for a few nights. to celebrate our arrivel, another city conquered, we went out to try the famous doner kabobs. similar to a burger, but its turkish origin gave the doner a unique blend of spices that proved to be competitive. quite tasty. berliner brau ended the rest of the evening back at his flat
