The Other London, Part 2: Roll up, roll up for the Mystery Tour

John had estimated the distance from Amsterdam to the Roskilde Festival in Denmark to be about 800km. A distance he felt would be coverable within a 3 day time span which, in my uninitiated estimation, seemed overly generous. Having only been in Europe for a few days, I was still in full-fledged, ignorant tourist mode, and gauging the undertaking by North American standards,  I thought it more reasonable to expect the journey would take us a couple of days. One day if we were lucky.

I quickly realized the difference between hitching rides in North America and hitching rides in Europe was that hitching rides in Europe was a bit of a dog-and-pony-show/milk-run where you had to be prepared to stop at every village - and I do mean every village - along the way between point A and point B. To be fair, things were the same in North America, but with major epicenters spread out a reasonable distance, at least you'd feel like you're getting somewhere with each ride. In Europe, most folks seemed only to be traveling to the next village which, if you were lucky, might be a good 10km away. Sigh.

Likewise, it took us one full day - over 10 hours on the road - to get from Amsterdam to Arnhem, Holland, a paltry 100km away.  Our tedious progress encompassed 8 rides including: a business man who drove us to the outskirts of Amsterdam where his car promptly overheated, a minibus of high school kids on a band trip, a farmer who let us ride in the back of her produce van, and other assorted fun.

Here's some useful European hitching how-to from back in the day, in case you're interested:

1. Make sure you have a big pad of paper with you and a thick black marker so you can display the name of the next village to passing vehicles. It's inadvisable to write down the name of your final destination as anything further than 20km away will likely overwhelm your audience if they bother to look.


2. It is, or was, illegal to hitch on the open highway in most countries in Europe. The acceptable spot to wait for rides is at the top of an on ramp. Where major highways intersect, this of course means that when you are dropped off at an off ramp, you will need to cross the intersecting highway on foot to get to the next on ramp. A side note here, once you've made it half way across the highway, you'll likely find those concrete barriers are actually much higher than you might expect. Also, the smooth sides make them very difficult to climb over with a 30 lb backpack on your back. Good luck!


3. As hitchhiking partners go, you'll have an easier time finding rides if you travel with a girl. Lone males or two males will receive less offers. And as far as numbers go, the maximum size of your travelling party should be limited to two.


4. It is expected that you will be open to engaging in idle chitchat throughout the duration of your ride. Remember, your driver is a person who has invited a couple of strangers to share their confined space for a period of time. They are overtly social creatures and there are no 'free rides' to be had. Even the fact that you don't speak a common language won't get you off the hook. You can expect to answer questions like 'Where are you going?", "What do you think about [insert current country/closet village]?" and "What is [insert name of your home country] like?" over and over and over again. And then some.

Our last ride of the day was kind enough to drive us all the way to the nearest hostel in Arnhem which happened to be a Christian youth hostel. In my experience these establishments are dependably very clean, very efficiently run and, most notably, very not fun. Well, we really only needed a place to shower and crash before hitting the road early the next day. The hostel staff were at least open-minded enough to allow us to stay in the co-ed dorm though we were not a married couple. We were given bunks beside an elderly grandma and grandpa (or should I say, oma and opa) -like German couple who folded their socks neatly on top of the sandals at the foot of their beds.

As we were crawling into our bunks at the early hour of 10, it was already past 'lights out' time. The dorm was in semi-darkness and filled with the sounds of snoring travellers. John, who had maintained a respectable we-hardly-know-each-other distance throughout the day, stepped up to the upper bunk where I was already snuggled into my sleeping bag to whisper good night. His gorgeous eyes shimmered silver in the dim light. And he kissed me. Swoon. I mean, ew (well, not really).

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A few friends have asked me to write about how I came to use the name, theotherlondon, so here it is: a collection of stories from June 1993 to October 1994 that include my experiences working in Switzerland and the UK; my engagement to a German blacksmith in Paris; our road trip across North America in a '67 Volvo with an Australian footballer, and oh yes, my introduction to something 'new' called the Internet. You can find the first post here.