As I started festival-hopping, I got into the “scene of crazy people”… Instead of spending all their money on a car or on public transport, they would just hitchhike everywhere…
This is the first guest post on Raw Safari by Annie FrangiPony, an inspiring fellow traveler I met at Rainbow Gathering in Australia last year. Annie has just launched her hitchhiking adventure. Her enthusiasm and courage are awesome, and I’m so happy we can share some of her stories with you, here on Raw Safari. You can read more about Pony’s travels at her blog: Frangipony.
Crazy People.
Just one year ago, I never would have even dreamed of hitchhiking all by myself. Growing up in a conventional German village world, I was told that hitchhiking is just too dangerous and thus a very silly thing to do – with all these creeps, rapists and chainsaw murderers out there. Hitchhiking as a girl alone – just not an option!
Anyway, I was travelling Australia in my own car, so I never had to worry about how to get somewhere.
Then, as I started festival-hopping, I got into the “scene of crazy people” and I met more and more other young European backpackers like me. But that they handled the whole thing quite differently: instead of spending all their money on a car or on public transport, they would just hitchhike everywhere, and it seemed to work out just fine for them. I remember talking to Carline, a French solo traveller about my age; hearing her explain why she thinks hitchhiking is awesome and not so scary after all. I remember how I thought she was crazy and reckless.
Finding more people like Carline, finding this blog (Raw Safari) and eventually finding its creator meant finding out more about this kind of life “those irresponsible people” were leading.
You hardly ever have to worry about money? You can go for years without working a real job and just travel and have fun instead? You get picked up by super kind locals who invite you to stay at their house and give you food as well? You happen to end up in wonderful places that you would never have known otherwise? How come you’re making all these friends? How come you have so many amazing adventures, experiences and stories to tell?!
I realized how – comparatively – boring, stressful, lonely and money consuming it is to own and travel with a vehicle. Cars just “cost big bickies”.
The way the crazy people lived started to make much more sense to me. They had all the fun.
If they can do it – if it works out so amazingly well for them – why shouldn’t I be able to do the same…?
After I sold my car, October last year, I was inspired to spend the rest of my time in Australia living like Manny, Carline, Bobby, Sarah and all the others!
From Woodford to Melbourne: 3 Days; 7 Lifts.
After the Woodford Folk Festival I had to get to Melbourne within three days to catch the plane that I had booked to Tasmania. Grace and Tim, two awesome people who volunteered with me, drove me all the way to a petrol station close to the New South Wales border. As I was still rearranging my luggage in front of the building, a young woman walked past and said “Come with us, we can take you as far as Coffs Harbour, if you don’t mind stopping by at my grandma’s for a cuppa’ tea?”
Of course I didn’t mind!
My driver and her Peruvian husband run a gourmet chocolate factory in the Andes and just came over to Australia to visit her family.
We spent some time drinking tea and eating cake at her grandmother’s place – I was welcomed warmly by everyone as if it was the most normal thing to have a young stranger sipping tea on their sofa.
Reaching Coffs Harbour, they invited me to stay overnight at their family home, so I wouldn’t have to camp alone and in the rainy weather. A bed, a yummy dinner and even a beer. How grateful, was I?!
Early in the morning they dropped me by the highway and after maybe five minutes of waiting, a guy pulled over offering to take me all the way to Sydney. Sadly and shamefully, I forgot his name, but I remember him as the George Ezra man – that was his favourite music at the moment and we listened to the whole album twice. Connecting over the music, the 8 hours went by quickly.
In Sydney I got picked up my a young tradesman only seconds after I held up my sign. He only took me 16 km down the road, but we had a chat about the situation of the Indigenous Australians today and he said something I’ll remember him by: “It’s a culture, not a colour!”
Unfortunately he dropped me off in a bad spot, under a bridge by the highway where everyone went some 120km/h. On top of that, it was raining like a curtain and with all the water spraying around nobody could even see me. I stood for two and a half hours, until my cardboard sign saying “Melbourne” was all soggy from the gusts of rain and my desperation was growing. But there was nowhere else to go, nobody to call for help, all I could do was be patient and grateful for the rain cape Grace had given me!
Eventually, Wendy pulled over and invited me to stay the night at her house in Wollongong. Thankfully I accepted. Wendy is just a piece of pure gold! She instantly adopted me and looked after me like a mum would. Her partner and her fifteen year old son were just as wonderful – the son slept on the couch so I could have his bed! They fed me dinner and chocolate, and a hot shower. After standing in the rain was just the best thing.
The next day Wendy dropped me at a petrol station where after about 3 minutes I got an inviting wave from a truck driver. I’d never been in one of those big trucks before and was curious about how it’s like to be a truckie travelling up and down Australia’s endlessly long highways.
The guy looked quite a like a stereotypical truckie, with tattoos, a beard and a belly, and at first I wasn’t quite sure about him because he went on and on telling me scary stories about what terrible things happened to him when he once hitchhiked.
Then I realized, he was trying to scare me because he wanted me to stay safe and stop hitching, just like a good dad would.
When he dropped me at a petrol station near Canberra, he was reluctant to leave before I’d gotten another lift and talked to other truckies, trying to make sure I get “a good one”.
Rough exterior and a good heart beneath.
It took only a couple of minutes until I got picked up by a young New Zealander with his 43 year-old Holden ute. He drove me all the way to Melbourne and told me inspiring stories about squatting – “unlawfully occupying an unoccupied building”. Yelling over his punk rock music, he told me that he and his friends hadn’t paid rent for 7 years because they always found an empty house to squat in.
Wow!
>> Read more of Annie’s inspiring adventures on her blog ‘Frangipony‘.
>> Join the Raw Safari tribe on Facebook.
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