I am dropped off at a big commerce area near Klagenfurt. This is another detour made for my sake. I got to watch as my driver got his truck loaded with empty pallets by a worker expertly maneuvering a forklift. We even asked around among the other truckers loading and unloading, but no one there was going in my direction or was willing to take me. I noticed my driver getting annoyed at what he perceived as fear when another driver refused me. I noticed my own distance to emotions of disappointment; hitchhiking mostly revolves around getting refused.

That is also why the rides you get are so sweet.

Anyway, these big commerce areas are never good to hitch, I’ve found, and I walked around for a bit looking for other options. In the end, having tried a few spots, I resigned to the exit of the supermarket, put my stuff down and started thumbing.

The sun came out. I was surrounded by mountains and the clouds were hanging heavy directly on top of them. Slowly moving, barely lifting. I enjoyed the sun on my face.

Passenger cars rarely go very far, and so on days like these it’s about numbers if I want to put distance behind me. The mountains were beautiful, but I wanted to get out of the cold and so my intention was set on going south, staying on the highway leading to Italy.

Thumbing is a sport of endurance. Whenever I get on the road I expect to stand around for at least one-two hours. Directly asking people, in my experience, is better. Even if you get an equal amount of no:s, the small chats are more pleasant than the quiet eyes following me as the cars pass me by. And asking is a good practice for me, too.

Maybe three people stopped for me those first two hours. Granted, there wasn’t much traffic to begin with. The first two were headed in the wrong direction, but with the third car I got lucky. Two young Polish boys opened the window and a minute later helped me stove my bag in the back. They were headed to a town only 30 km away, but in my direction.

I say boys as they were 20 years old (my youngest rides so far) and had a sort of young-ish insecurity about them, a shy softness, even as aggressive hiphop was blaring out of the speakers. They were in the area as construction workers, heading home from work.

I was dropped off at a gas station and immediately found my second ride, a woman who took me about 30 more km in my direction. Her young son was sitting in the back seat and she told me about having lived in England and about the house she and her husband were building high in the mountains, above the fog.

She dropped me at yet another gas station and from there it maybe took me half an hour of thumbing to catch my last ride for the day, another kind and timid woman who took me all the way into Villach and again, a big shopping center in the south part. It was raining heavily at this point and I went inside to find a café where I could get a hot drink and do some writing. I didn’t want to thumb or walk to another location in the rain. The forecast said that it would last until ten in the night, and so I found myself stuck between decisions.

Hitchhiking is about luck and persistence. It’s about being soft yet stubborn. It’s about projecting your will, bluntly, at the universe and to blindly believe that whatever you want, it will come true, one way or another. Without this belief, this kind of travel is impossible.

I have often been told that it is impossible to hitchhike in this or this country. Ironically, it has been almost always by the people picking me up and that makes me laugh every time.

And it is impossible to know who will stop for me next. Whenever someone stops, or actually, even if they just smile and wave through the car windows, maybe indicating that they will stay in the area or wishing me luck, I am truly and genuinely happy. There are so many cars passing by on so many roads in Europe, every day. I am like an ant, a tiny dot in this mesh. Every drop of kindness I collect gratefully, like rainwater on my tongue or in my palms, sincerely feeling that at this moment, it is enough.

…

(This story told in pictures.)