Without a Traceroute

Hitchhiking is kind of a strange thing, it’s basically the only activity I can think of that consists primarily of standing in one place and listening to an mp3 player yet is somehow edgy, cool and exciting.

No, I didn't start flying a sign for Graz in front of the opera in downtown Vienna.

It’s also (for me at least) an emotional rollercoaster. As you’re waiting, you’re being rejected by dozens and dozens of cars passing. It’s easy to start getting bummed out and dejected. I even got as far as starting to mentally compose the blog post about how I failed at hitchhiking. It took me almost 3 hours to get my first ride out of Vienna. Although for part of that time I was waiting in the wrong place, and I spent about 30 minutes getting a coffee and warming up in McDonald’s.

Then, when somebody does pick you up, you feel totally elated and awesome. It certainly didn’t hurt that both of my rides yesterday were reasonably attractive women in their late 20s/early 30s. My first driver (from Vienna to Graz) had a really nice little Garmin GPS navigation device (with a less impressive suction-cup mounting system). We didn’t use it much since it’s basically one autobahn straight from Vienna to Graz, but I’m a fan of expensive electronic gadgetry on principle. It’s also reassuring because if your driver has her own fancy gizmos, she seems less likely to try to rip you off for yours.

My second driver was super nice—the kind of nice that doesn’t seem like it exists outside of books and movies until you occasionally encounter it. I must have gotten very good at giving off the friendly/harmless vibes, because within about 5 minutes after picking me up, she took me home to her house to meet her two sons (8 and 9). She didn’t strike me as a crazy, irresponsible mother, either. Her kids were friendly and well-behaved. They seemed amused when I introduced myself in English and shook hands in a grown-up fashion.

She told me she stopped because her mother is Slovenian; when she explained to her boys that she was going to help me get to Slovenia, the younger one asked, “Is he going to visit grandma?” which was cute. She actually made me dinner (!), and then drove me (out of her way!) to Maribor, which is the first town over the border big enough to have a real train station.

By then, it was starting to get  dark, so I didn’t think I’d get another ride. I bought a train ticket from Maribor to Ljubljana for €7.73; even with the added cost of a sharpie marker, it’s still a lot better than an €80 Austrian train. The whole trip took about 9 hours, but, crucially, none of that time was spent on a bus.

Hitching out of Graz ('SLO' is an EU abbreviation for Slovenia), I'm impressed I managed to get the leaving-Graz sign in the background.

On A2 headed South. I hastily made this more-general sign when "Graz" didn't seem to be working.

Austria is crazy-beautiful, and warm(ish)!

My first driver and car