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Estonia. Hope is the Opposite of Fear – Hitchhiking Around the World Day 60 – 62

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“Hope is the opposite of fear.”

The crisp, morning air from the half-opened window welcomed me into the new day and breathed hope into my problem.

Despite what had burdened me over the last few days, I was relaxed.  I made a big breakfast for Tambet and me, which we enjoyed on his balcony while further discussing my options for reaching the end of the continent without having to fly home first. Just having him there to talk to helped a lot.

He left for work and I threw myself back on the couch. I opened my email box to check if the visa agency had been successful in their enquiry at the Chinese consulate into whether they could conduct the visa interview over Skype, or over telephone, or any logical solution for somebody who is travelling away from their own country.

The subject line gave nothing away.

This is not a piece of fiction, therefore I cannot write whatever I want. So, of course, it was unsuccessful. I either had to fly home, staining the hitchhiking element of my trip, or the visa application would be refused.

I learned a valuable lesson on how to stay positive from this trip-threatening fiasco – Hope is the opposite of fear.

We get fearful when our mind focuses on negative possibilities, and hope is the result of thinking about the equally likely positive outcomes. The happy ones among us are those who focus on the latter. In most situations, things seem to play out not terribly, nor extremely well, but somewhere half-way.

Remaining hopeful before this news had kept me much calmer than I would have been without it. I think we worry because we feel like we can change things by doing so, but the reality is that we have very little to no control over what happens to us. Once we accept this, we are free be happy.

I needed to vent, badly, so I picked up the pillow which I had slept on so peacefully the night before, folded it in half and forced all of my frustration into it. I felt the veins on my eyes pop up, as well as the ones on the side of my head. Unsatisfied, I let out another scream. Almost finished, I let out a final one, which I felt shake the walls of the old, wooden apartment.

That night, Tambet and I went to a party at his friend’s country house. It was one of the final parties of the short Estonian summer. Few of them work during this season, because most of the year it is too cold to host such events.

They were very welcoming. Some of them spoke English very well, some of the not so much; they all learn it in school, but few of them get the chance to practice speaking.

My new friends sensed there was something troubling me and were empathetic. One of them suggested a new idea – going through Afghanistan and Pakistan. I considered it, seeing as my journey is all about questioning the dangers of the world presented by mainstream news, but after quite a lot of research I deemed it to dangerous.

We sat outside together around the campfire next to the woods and the mist-shrouded fields. Tambet explained what the design of the Estonian flag was based on; the three equally-sized horizontal bars – blue on top, black in the middle, followed by white – were right in front of me as I looked into the landscape. The dark blue sky was above the silhouette of the trees, which was based on the white mist.

The night ended as the sun came up, and we all wasted the next day. As the sun clung to the final hours of the day, Tambet and some friends took me to the main road to Tallinn, the capital city, but I didn’t need or want to make any progress today so I set up my tent.

Jack called me that evening to discuss my current situation. He presented a new idea: I still had a Russian visa in my passport which hasn’t been used yet, why not just go around China? I did some quick calculations to find that if I averaged an achievable 400 kilometers per day, I could make it within my 30-day visa. Could I really traverse the largest country in the world in that tight time-frame? Could I really go for a month without resting? Where would I sleep?

I spent the rest of the evening with my map, before falling into a half-excited slumber.

 

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The Day it All Went Wrong – Latvia Part 2/2 – Hitchhiking Around the World Days 51 – 58

“Not only had I been punched in the stomach, now I had been kicked in the balls, too.”

I had been in Latvia for a week and experienced the capital city, Riga. Now I wanted to see somewhere that wasn’t a tourist magnet – somewhere in the countryside, somewhere which would show me the ‘real’ Latvia. I checked all of the small villages on Couchsurfing and found a host in a town called Saldus, 200km to the West. My host said he could pick me up from Riga and drive me straight there. This time, I remembered not to complain about how easy things are.

It wasn’t much to write about, just a small Latvian town, but my host family were very welcoming.

Next was Jelgava, another small city in the lush green countryside to the East. Antra and Peter were very hospitable, and I felt very guilty receiving free food and beer for the two days I stayed with them. They refused anything from me, but I managed to slip a bottle of wine on to the table with a ‘thank you’ note the morning I left.

Augusta (my host in Riga) sent me a message telling me I had forgotten my army mug. I couldn’t leave it behind, because it was, and still is, one of the most important pieces of equipment on my kit list – it can be used as a tea mug, or a cooking pot, or to boil unsafe water. It is also indestructible – I have even used it to hit tent pegs into hard earth. Luckily, I had to go in that direction to get to Estonia, so I paid her a visit.

It was nice to see her again but she couldn’t talk for long, so I only stayed for a quick cup of tea. If I would have known what was going happen that evening, I would not have left her apartment.

Ahead of me was the long walk out of Riga, which ended up being about 18km (4.5 hours of walking). It was sharp, sodden and spirit-damaging weather; I even had to set up my tarp a couple of times to avoid downpours. Towards the end of the tummy-rumbling drudge, I found a business park which I nabbed Wi-Fi from. ‘Why not check my notifications?’ I thought. ‘My Chinese visa is due today’.

Opening my email inbox, I saw, in block capitals, an email from the visa agency I was using to get the visa to China. ‘URGENT – INTERVIEW REQUESTED’, read the subject line. As my heart began to repeatedly smack the inside of my rib cage in an ever-increasing fit of panic as if it were trying to free itself, and as I realized what those capitalized words meant for my journey, I opened the message.

“Dear Mr. Day,

I have tried to contact you over the phone but was not successful.

We have got a problem with your Chinese visa. Your application was successfully submitted on the 13th of July, so your visa was due today. However, when our courier came to collect it, he was told by the visa center that the Consulate selected you for an interview [in person, in London]. Unfortunately, we are not sure what the reason is, as the Consulate does not explain the nature of it.

The interview can be attended any working day between 9:30 and 11 am. Could you get in touch with us confirming when you can attend the interview, so we could book it for you?”

I had planned for almost anything which could go wrong, but for this I had nothing.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

I had expected it to be issued today and to be in my hands within a week, so I could have crossed into Russia and continued East.

I was stunned.

The confusion quickly wore off and became panic at the realization that my trip was most likely over.

I hadn’t even made it out of Europe yet!

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

I was on my own, too; nobody was there to reassure me.

I could feel my journey crumbling like a dry mud hut under heavy rain, and I needed a friend. I called Jack, but he could only talk for a few minutes. I couldn’t call my Mum or Dad, because I didn’t want to worry them. And I couldn’t call September, because I knew that hearing her voice would make me return to the comfort of home.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I caught a ride with some very friendly people, who of course were asking me about my trip. ‘Singapore?!’ they asked in amazement, when I told them my end destination (at the time), but I didn’t say it with enthusiasm anymore, because I no longer believed it to be true.

Defeated, I carried myself into a woodland and lazily set my tent up. I was too stressed to feel hungry, but I knew I must be after the hike, so I boiled some rice. Earlier, I had bought a bottle of garlic sauce to treat myself to some flavor and, inevitably, that evening was the one that fate had chosen to open it inside my bag. It was stored upside-down and, as I lifted it out, the lid came loose and the garlic liquid engulfed the contents of my backpack like a flash flood. Not only had I been punched in the stomach, now I had been kicked in the balls, too.

‘One problem at a time’, I told myself.

Shortly after, I realized I didn’t even have any cutlery – I must’ve left it behind with one of my hosts. So, with my penknife, I shoveled in a few mouthfuls of garlic-flavored rice, before giving up and retreating to my sleeping bag, which now acted as a barrier from my newly-dealt problems.

Maybe it was all a bad dream.

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Tom’s Big Hitchhiking Adventure

– On 1 June 2017, I left the UK to hitchhike alone around the world –

 

 

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Hitchhiking Around the World: Days 41 and 42

– On 1 June 2017, I left the UK to hitchhike alone around the world –

“I began to feel like I’d had enough of the trip for now; I’d been going for over 6 weeks already, and that was the longest I’d ever been away from home. Maybe it was time to go back for a bit, and resume my trip at a later date. But I realised I owed it to myself, after the struggles I had already endured, not to waste what I’d achieved by simply giving up.”

Once the Chinese visa application had been posted, I had already been in Kaunas for 6 days and had nothing else to do or see. I was, however, exhausted; the stress of this thing – rushing to make a travel itinerary in two days, making fake flight and hotel bookings and having to borrow a few thousand pounds to do so, and worrying it might not work out and cause the trip to be a failure – had worn me out again, undoing 5 nights of full, deep, and undisturbed rest. I was unsure if I should stay another night in Rima’s apartment or to go to Vilnius, Lithuania’s capital city. I went to the supermarket to restock the things which I had used, such as cooking oil and milk. As I walked along the isles, I found myself picking up some beers and snacks, and with a grin I realized I wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

I aimed to leave at midday, which became 2pm, then 3pm (for certain!) and then 4pm. I made myself one final coffee and said when I finish it, then I would have to leave. Rima then bought some pizza from a place down the street, so I ended up staying for another hour and a half. ‘Will I ever really leave’? I thought. I knew it was an easy trip to Vilnius; just 100km, perhaps one lift. But I was finding it so difficult to get going. I had stopped for too long and now it was difficult to get going again. I had a comfy bed, electricity, internet, gas, cooking facilities, and even a bathroom! Now I was going back to my usual way of traveling – either sleeping on roadsides or in cheap, dirty hostels. I began to feel like I’d had enough of the trip for now; I’d been going for over 6 weeks already, and that was the longest I’d ever been away from home. Maybe it was time to go back for a bit, and resume my trip at a later date. But I realised I owed it to myself, after the struggles I had already endured, not to waste what I’d achieved by simply giving up.

I stalled some more time away from myself by writing my diary, but I quickly updated it, and once again had no excuse to stay. Rima went back to work, and I sat there on my phone pretending to myself to be doing something. It took me until 17:30 to find the will to grab my bag, say goodbye to Rima, and walk to the road.

It was another straight-forward lift to the capital, once I actually got going. I walked to the highway which was a few minutes away and held my sign up. A man stopped the car after a few dozen others had passed, and took me all the way there.

Although I had already spent a week in Lithuania, I knew almost nothing about its history, which was still eerily present around me; so I asked my new friend. After a few questions, I began to understand why the Lithuanians I had already seen were so cold – The minimum salary here is 350EUR per month, which is just enough to survive on, but not to live on. The government takes 50% of this salary, too. People constantly have worries over money, not just once or twice a month, but every single day. It’s no wonder I hadn’t seen anybody smile. People were snappy, aggressive and miserable. Rightfully so.

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He then began telling me about what life was like in the times of the Soviet Union – How shop shelves were sparsely stacked, meat was rarely sold, and meals consisted of mainly flavorless rice or potato. Green beans made an appearance around Christmas time, if you were lucky. And a banana was like something from a fairy tale.

But independence from the USSR didn’t bring much positive change; Russia cut off the energy supply, meaning Lithuania had to begin fending for themselves after being dependent for such a long time. Financially, nowadays, they are in shambles. Basic things like repairing roads and pavements have been pushed to the back of the line and no new buildings have been erected in the last 25 years in Kaunas.

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I checked in to the new hostel and collapsed into my bed until sunrise. The next day as I made breakfast, I felt an unfriendly atmosphere in the kitchen, so I ended up being just as reserved. But later on in the evening, three Ukrainian men who I thought were unfriendly (and a bit scary!) invited me over for Vodka and Borsch (a kind of potato, tomato and meat soup). How could I have been so quick to judge them? They were lovely! They filled me up with their food, which was helped down with copious amounts of vodka. And it was here I learned how to let them know you want to stop drinking, because you don’t have their alcohol tolerance. You don’t say ‘no, thank you’, you simply don’t drink the shot in front of you, because if you do, they will fill it up regardless you say.

Because I had eaten so much food (I felt like an over-inflated balloon), the vodka didn’t hit me until I lay down in my bed. An enormous grin occupied my face as I lay there giggling to myself. I wondered what the other people in the room were thinking, but I was too pissed to care. I finished my night by sending various memes, which I found either hilarious, profound, or both at the time, to my friends and family.

The city itself was very nice – every other building seemed to be a church. The architecture was like that from the Disney universe – exactly what I had expected from a place called something so melodious as ‘Lithuania’. Despite being a capital city there was a lot of room to move around in. It surprised me, having grown up thinking London was something to base other capitals on.

A Near-Death Experience: Hitchhiking Around the World Days 32 and 33

“I thought that the tall grass would be a safe, well-hidden place for sleeping in, but I was forced out of my sleeping bag just after sunrise by a man driving a lawnmower inches away from my tent.”

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I spent a total of 3 days in the small town of Konin. It was my first experience of Couchsurfing, which I have been using throughout my trip as a way of meeting local people and learning about what life is really like in the places I visit.

Marcin and his family were very hospitable. They showed me around their town and surrounding area, and even paid for my bus tickets. Thanks again!

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The next stop on my hitchhiking adventure was Suwalki, Poland’s coldest town in the North-East. The border town would be my final break in Poland before entering Lithuania. I arranged to stay with another Couchsurfing host, Julia, and told her that I would arrive in just one day.

It was about 500km there, which was achievable, if I didn’t make any mistakes, with the summer daylight hours I had been blessed with.

 

Mistakes were made

I stood at the outskirts of Konin, where the settlement stopped and road carried on into the emptiness, with the damp grey sky teasing me with the chance of rain. Traffic was low and I realized I was already in a difficult situation.

I held up my sign and the drivers just passed by. They didn’t even acknowledge me, which is always a bad sign. I waited for over an hour before the woman pictured below finally pulled in. She wasn’t even going on the motorway but she took me there anyway. She then went on to ask drivers for me using her female charm, quickly securing me a lift to Warsaw.

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I was on the highway now, and it felt as if my luck had returned. My new driver, Pawel, even bought me a coffee, some food and a bottle of water. He had traveled in the same way that I am now, and we talked about how, on journeys like ours, one’s mood can quickly change from an overwhelming high to a crippling low. During this ride, I was on a high, and I was about to prove our observation.

He left me somewhere with a lot of traffic, and I felt positive; It was somewhere I’d normally wait for no more than 20 minutes. But I stood there, looking like an untalented street-performer, for over two hours. If you wait for an abnormal amount of time, then you are most likely doing something wrong. Perhaps the cars were going too fast, or I wasn’t visible enough. regardless, I decided to walk on in the hope of finding a petrol station.

The pavement blended into the road and I was now putting myself at risk. Luckily, someone pulled in because he thought the same; I wasn’t even putting my thumb out.

We passed a large service station, which would have been perfect to continue with, but I became greedy and decided to go on with him. He took me a total of about 50km, but left me somewhere with almost non-existent traffic.

I had to illegally walk on the motorway. After an anxious and exhausting 3 hours, a petrol station finally came into view. My excitement quickly turned to distress when I realized it was as underused as the road. It was old, badly-kept and receding into nature. ‘I could be here for days,’ I realized.

But there are always people in every flow of traffic who have hitchhiked, and they will always stop if they’re going the same way; it’s just a case of how long you have to wait. This theory kept me hopeful, and before too long I was taken back to the big service station I’d stupidly missed the first time round.

I was back in it, only having lost about half a day. I had to get going because my host in Suwalki was calling me, wondering where I was. I got picked up fairly quickly again and taken another 100km.

The sun set as we approached my final hitchhiking spot. I now only had about an hour of sunlight left. Nobody stopped, and I finally accepted I wasn’t going to make it in time. I begrudgingly messaged my host, telling her that I wouldn’t arrive for the special meal she’d prepared for me. With that, I retreated to some tall grass on the roadside to setup my tent for the evening. I reflected on the day, recognizing that it was just a bad one. It wasn’t over yet though, tomorrow would be just as bad!

 

The next day

I thought that the tall grass would be a safe, well-hidden place for sleeping in, but I was forced out of my sleeping bag just after sunrise by a man driving a lawnmower inches away from my tent. I’m assuming he saw me, because his trail indicated he deliberately steered around me.

I waited at the same spot as last night for a further 2 hours before thinking, yet again, that I was doing something wrong. I walked 5km back on myself to a petrol station which was, again, very empty. There were, however, a few trucks coming in, about one every 30 minutes. I was still very scared to ask people for a lift at this point of the adventure, but it was my only chance.

A truck with Lithuanian number plate pulled in first. ‘ I could be out of here’, I thought. I enthusiastically asked him to take me, in my best Russian, but he just said ‘No’. This went on for about 3 hours.

Finally, another driver with a Latvian number plate pulled in. He could see how desperate I was, and he laughed at that. Out of pity, he agreed to me to Suwalki.

It was a short ride of about an hour, and I waited for my host to finish work in a small café. Out of nowhere, a menacing rainstorm took over the skies. Wind seemed to challenge the structural integrity of the building and the rain forced people off the streets. When I met my host, she told me an annual storm had arrived, and that I was very lucky to have gotten picked up when I did.

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Getting Lucky in a McDonald’s – Hitchhiking Around the World Day 27-32

On 1 June 2017, I left the small English town of Falmouth to hitchhike alone around the world.

After a month-long 3100km sprint from Falmouth, I had arrived in Poland and I needed to rest. I found a cheap hostel which was empty and slept 10-12 hours every night and 2-3 during the day. Despite this, I was still very tired when I left. I wasn’t sure why at the time, but now I know; hitchhiking means you are always thinking, worrying, assessing and deciding. ‘Do they know where I want to get out?’ ‘Will they let me out?’ ‘Are they dangerous?’ ‘What would I do if they turned out to be? Even though I am standing and sitting most of the time, it is exhausting. Exhausting isn’t a good enough word; most nights are spent outside and I never properly rest when I’m illegally sleeping outside of a motorway service station.

When I wasn’t sleeping, I spent some time taking the place in. This new country felt very different to Germany, where I’d just come from. I noticed a lot of tower blocks and other buildings that felt very Soviet influenced – cold, concrete, communist and created equally. Poland used to be under Russian command and some buildings had been painted with bright colors to cover this, but they were still ugly.

Despite the ex-soviet introduction, the city was beautiful; it was colorful and full of creativity and inspiration.

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After 3 days, I was (kind of ) ready for the next push to Konin, a small town that travelers rarely go to. I’m not a fan of cities. They’re busy, uncomfortable, dirty, expensive and I don’t feel that they should represent the country. When people say they’ve been to England and have only visited London, I don’t feel they’ve really experienced my country. I figured then, when I visit other countries, that I would avoid capital cities. I chose to miss Warsaw.

I walked for a couple of hours out of Wroclaw, new cardboard sign in hand, and began hitching. I got picked up within a few seconds by a man named Patryk. He was about 27, friendly, talkative. He could speak English very well and told me about the difficulty of life in Poland; the living wage is too low and the cost of living too high. He gets paid around £377/month and rents a room that costs about the same. I finally understood why so many Polish emigrate to places like Germany and England. And it’s no wonder the people seem so cold and paranoid.

19601335_1736175380012996_3187885278488409258_n.jpgAs we approached the place where he had to leave me, a deep blue storm was fast approaching with its menacing clouds. When Patryk dropped me off, it began to rain quite heavily. Luckily I was right next to a McDonald’s, where I rushed in to get a coffee. I stayed there for a few comfortable hours, writing my diary and sipping coffee in the warmth. It’s a hard life.

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I’m not sponsored by McDonald’s, but their restaurants are safe places for me while hitchhiking; no matter where I am in the world, there’s always WiFi, electricity, warmth, seats and coffee. If I ever need a place to find my bearings and I see the golden arches, I hate to say it, but I know I’ll be okay.

It took so long for the rain to pass, that when I finally emerged from the building it was already sunset. I found a roadside camping spot and passed out for another 12 hours. The next day I was picked up promptly and taken the rest of the way to Konin.

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