Hitchlog: 761km, 9h30 total, 2h waiting, 25min pause
I started off with the small frustration of being on a relatively quiet station where everyone went off the mountains and not to Italy. I say small, because the first people going to Italy, a young couple from southern France, promptly took me on board. And when I looked at the time, I couldn’t believe that I’d only spent about 10 minutes trying anyway! If I continue being that lucky, I definitely won’t work on my patience, which was one of the initial attractions of hitchhiking. But I won’t complain! One thing I did work on that day, however, was renunciation. That’s something I do relatively often, half-voluntarily, since I rarely take a lot of food with me. I always tell myself “oh, in the worst case, I can buy something on the way”, which is something I never end up doing, because somehow I’m never hungry enough to pay 3.50€ for a packet of crisps. For the two days on the road, I had: 200g of walnuts and 2 fruit bars (still from my gran at home), a few slices of bread, and two oranges. The bread and one orange, as well as some nuts were gone the previous day, so I had the other orange in the morning and decided to savour every bite from then on. Which was totally fine.
Just to clarify: I don’t do these kinds of things for any aww-my-gawd-I-needa-lose-weight reason. I kind of hesitated writing about food (and lack thereof) because it’s a touchy topic for many people, and I know very few people who have an entirely healthy relation to what they eat and what their body looks like. Well, I think I’ve grown to develop a liking of my body and don’t see at all why I’d want to torture it to fit a certain, mainstream accepted, look (if I wanted to do that, I’d start by shaving my legs). Experiments like this one are more in line with staying up the whole night to do parkour, and, in this case, err on the side of the spiritual journey. Y’know, like Indian monks wandering around, depending on the charity of others (“only take what is given”) and not craving for more than that. Already, hitchhiking really helps developing that kind of modesty and gratitude and non-attachment (to the extent that now, I really don’t care anymore if someone could actually take me but doesn’t want to, and can ungrudgingly wish them a nice journey). The food-scarcity is something of a bonus, also because only eating walnuts is a bit boring, and breaks the craving for special tastes or whatever. And I felt truly like that kind of nomad when sometimes I got offered a biscuit or a handful of almonds.
Anyway, after I got through all of Italy fine, I arrived at my friend’s place in Trieste where home-cooked pasta was waiting for me, eheh.
Some more fun on the way included seeing lots of middle-aged men in big cars, smoking and looking so clichéd Italian that I couldn’t help but find it hilarious, landscapes changing sooo quickly. I also got ciao-bella’d (pff) and met more cool people… but to be honest, now I’ve written a lot and would prefer going out to see Trieste!