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Petr, Rusty, George.
The cops give me a ticket.
‘You must go back behind the highway sign’ the cop tells me. ‘You understand?’
I head up the ramp back to the small road, where the appointed protectors of public order approve of me thumbing.
It starts to rain. There’s a bridge nearby, where I shelter. I’m on the opposite side of the road now.
OK. I’ll go east instead of west.
I stand there under the bridge, with my thumb up, pointing the opposite direction to where I want to go, and eat my ticket.
Ten minutes later Petr shows up.
He’s an elegantly dressed Czech dude, with a bright smile and enough energy to power a small town.
‘Get in!’ he calls out to me, and I climb in, super grateful to be out of the rain, and going somewhere.
In the car is me, Petr, my bags, Petr’s bed, a shopping cart, Petr’s collection of Tupperware, and Rusty; Petr’s beautiful canine buddy.
‘I saw you, hitchhiking in the rain, and you were smiling. I thought, here is a guy I want to meet’ Petr tells me.
I tell him about my run in with the law, and getting caught in the rain.
‘You’re shoes are wet’ Petr observes. ‘We have a joke here in Czech about wet shoes. There is an expression you see, if you are starting to feel anxious, or worried, a Czech person may say; I feel water pouring into my shoes. Well, the joke is like this:
A man is arrested and taken to the police station. He insists on his innocence, but the police continue to interrogate him for hours. The police finally tie him to a chair and blindfold him. Then the sargent gets a jug and begins to pour water into the man’s shoes.
How do you feel? the sargent asks.
I feel, replies the man, that there is water pouring into my shoes.
Aha! declares the sargent to his men. I knew this scoundrel was guilty!’
We drive fast, through the lowering twilight, to Jindrichuv Hradec, 150 km down the road.
We talk all the way. Well, Petr talks, I mostly listen and smoke, nodding occasionally, or making amazed noises.
Petr is one of those born story makers. He tells me about his life, the revelations he has recently had about the need for freedom, his parents, his struggles with ill-health, the world political crisis, global warming, chocolate and ‘mary jane’.
He tells me how he adopted Rusty, and shows me his collection of artistically embellished bank notes, each one with a poetic message from a fellow traveler.
I write on one too. On a Czech 100 note I write: ‘what goes on the road, adds to your load.’
We arrive in Jindrichuv Hradec about nine o’clock and meet up with Petr’s friend George.
George greets me shyly, but warmly and we head into the pub for beers.
George is nervous to talk to me because of the English / Czech language barrier.
After a few rounds of drinks, I get out my phone, flip on Google Translate, and in five minutes George and I are having a scattered but hilarious conversation with the help of my robot.
After a few more rounds, George has completely overcome his shyness and performs automatic painting on a dollar bill I find in my wallet.
Petr gets inspired and paints one too.
We sit on the bank of a small, tranquil lake sipping beer, smoking, eating sardines.
Rusty the dog runs around in the woods startling squirrels.
‘Maybe I will not hitchhike like you’ Petr muses, ‘but I will travel more minimalist yet. Perhaps I will abandon my car, and take instead a donkey. The donkey and Rusty can be good friends.’
‘Yes and if you have a nice girl donkey she will keep you warm at night’ I tell him.
At 3am Petr staggers off to sleep in his car.
I camp in the little wooded area by the lake’s southern shore. It’s almost unbelievably idyllic. A really perfect little European forest. From my tent I can see the lights of the town, and the sky reflected on the face of the lake.
In the morning Petr comes by my camp at 9:30 with hot coffee, fresh apple strudel, and a neatly rolled joint.
Rusty ducks his head under my tent flap, and pants, grins.
Nothing nicer than being woken up by a loving pup.
We have our breakfast.
Petr drives me to the edge of town to a good hitchhiking spot.
We have known each other 24 hours but it’s a fond farewell.
Rusty gives me a wet kiss in the ear-hole.
‘If you see police, keep your shoes dry’ Petr calls to me as he drives away.
‘Find a cute donkey and settle down’ I call back.
Hi!
Manny here, the guy who makes this blog.
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