Fast forward.

I can't keep up.  

I'll slowly fill in the rest as I go.  Here's the short version.

Reims - naked party, watergun, ride fu..ed, decisions, night in the park. 

Road - 5 rides, lovely.

Lyon - No home, party, request, bed.

Lyon - Walk, talk, musicians wine and bohemia

Road - 15 rides, even lovelier

Najac - WWOOFing, no go.

Road - 15 rides, starting to get very good.

Le Bugue - WWOOFing, good to go.  

Two weeks and 4 books later

The road - 1000 kms, 3 rides, 12 hours, getting real good.

Lille - right now.

I'm going to Budapest on Monday.  

Peace. 

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing. 
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956. 
I can't stand my own mind. 
America when will we end the human war? 
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb 
I don't feel good don't bother me. 
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind. 
America when will you be angelic? 
When will you take off your clothes? 
When will you look at yourself through the grave? 
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites? 
America why are your libraries full of tears? 
America when will you send your eggs to India? 
I'm sick of your insane demands. 
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks? 

-America, Allen Ginsberg

The road to Reims

Before I left Lille I asked Pascal if I could leave a bunch of things with him.  I hadn't gotten around to burying anything, which I was upset about, but I swallowed my pride and decided to leave them with Pascal.  It's amazing how little you need to survive, because, even after I left more then half my things with Pascal, I still wish I would have dropped off more.  That said however, I left my guitar, which I regret now, but I am going back to get it this week so it will all work out. 

So, with a much lighter load and an ambition to head south; I left Lille.  

Hitchhiking was something I had always planned to do, not only because I was broke, but I truly believed that it was the best means to travel.  The people you meet hitchhiking are always the people that you want to meet.  An uninteresting and closed mind person is not going to pick you up, which is something that benefits both parties since no one wants to get stuck next to a dud for hours at a time.  It's almost like speed dating, but for friendship - you let a hundreds of people pass by you, and you wait, and then suddenly the free-loving-intelligent-fun-and-happy-days-kinda-person comes along and bam! you got a ride. 

Pascal had directed me to the spot in Lille that every hitchhiker uses to get out of town: a three way funnel onramp with a nice pull off.  A hitchhikers dream.

Hitchhiking rule # 2 - Always have a sign where your going.  No one wants to get stuck with someone who might end up riding with them all the way just because they have no plans. 

Hitchhiking rule # 3 - Even if you don't get picked up, you can still feel good about hitchhiking.  Every time someone drives past you and doesn't pick you up they always reflect and feel guilty after; they decide that they should have picked you up - what could have been the harm of it? Now that they feel guilty, the next time that person sees a hitchhiker they will remember you and your smiling face and will be more likely to pick him up.  Your always supporting the cause.  Keep it up.

It took me 30 seconds to get a ride.  Hitchhiking was the bomb. 

I forget the guys name now, but he was a student at the University in Lille finishing up his doctorate on organic agriculture or something.  Anyway, really nice guy.  He took me as far Saint-Quientin and pulled over to let me out.  

Just as I was getting out something happened.  It was incredible because it happened so quick, it was bewildering really, one second I was opening the car door and then next I was getting patted down from every angle. 

Screech!

'Jimmy, Jimmy! prendre le sac!'

'D'accord,  d'accord, d'accord' 

'Jimmy, jimmy!

A french police van had pulled up right behind us and had immediately taken to me.  The leader of the group was a talking non-stop and ordering everyone to do something; I was in the middle of a SWAT training.  

'Ce qua ton nom? '

'What?'

'Anglais??!'

'Yes' 

'Whats you name?!' 

The leader had begun to interrogate me while another had begun to pat me down and yet another was opening my bag looking through it.  

'Where are you from?!'

'Uh, Canada'

'Canadian!!...Empty your pockets.. and give me your passport!' he was talking in a rhythmic way, fast and on tempo and he was almost bouncing on his feet, like a cop on his first day of work.  I got the feeling that none of these guys knew what they were doing, but were trying to do it very fast anyway.  

'D'accord, d'accord, d'accord' 

The initial shock had worn off, and I now came to realize that these guys were a joke; they reminded me of a group of penguins bouncing about.  One of the guys wouldn't stop saying 'd'accord, d'accord, d'accord'. 

'What is this?!'

The guy was trying to figure out my passport stamps as fast as he could.

'uh, Costa Rica' 

'D'accord, d'accord, d'accord... And this!?'

'uh... The UK' 

'D'accord, D'accord, D'accord - and this?!' 

'uh (and I almost starting laughing) ...thats France.' 

The guy was about to be embarrassed, but as soon as I said 'France' the guy looking through my bag had yelled  the leaders name and was holding up a clear plastic bag full of pills. The leaders face had lit up, he jumped on his toes and quickly snatched them, he turned back to me and said, 

'What is this?!' 

He looked like a boy on christmas morning; he thought he had just made a bust. 

'...they're multi-vitamins'

'oh... Why are they in a bag?!' he was diving

'well, I'm traveling and it's more convenient then a -' 

'- D'accord, d'accord, d'acord'  he didn't even let me finish.  

As soon as the guy had finished searching through my bag they took off.  It all happened in less then two minutes, and I had a strange feeling that they had set themselves a time limit.  The guy who I had caught a ride with told me it was common in France and that to not worry about it. I thanked him again and he took off.  

He had left me at a toll station, which must have been a good place because as soon as I walked around I saw that there were a couple other guys hitchhiking too.  Two long haired frenchmen who were, and I probably wouldn't have thought about it if these guys hadn't suggested it, but instead of standing beside the road, these guys were sitting on the lane dividers between the toll booths, close enough to give the drivers high-fives as they went by.  

'Are you allowed to sit there?'

'haha who cares' 

It was good enough for me.

I ran in between the cars and climbed up onto a barrier.  I set my backpack up behind me, set up my sign, hung my legs over each side and laid back in the sun.  I almost didn't want to get picked up right away - I was having the best natural high just sitting there and smiling at the cars were passing me by.  Being a hitchhiker felt so good right then.  People were smiling and telling me that they were going the other way and that they wished they could give me a ride, and I told them that it was all right and wished them a good day.  I felt like I was on top of the world - I had just begun an adventure and couldn't have been happier.  My pal got a ride and I wished him well; two seconds later I got one too.  

The guy who picked me up told me that I was his first hitchhiker ever. 

You should have seen my grin.  

 

Lille

Iurii had to go to Lille the next day to see some of his friends or something and asked me if I'd like to tag along, which was cool with me because I had no plans whatsoever, and he said he'd find me a place to stay for the night. 

We got to Lille early, around noon, and Iurii asked me if I wanted to experience a true french lunch, which I took to without hesitation - I had been trying to live of 5 dollars a day since I arrived in Europe ($500 dollars, which was all I had, divided by 100 days) which I can proudly say I was doing quite well at (it's surprising how far a couple baguettes and apple can go) and was happy to accept any type of meal whatsoever.  Iurii's friends turned out to be both doctors who lectured at the University in Lille, they were very nice people, however their children were a bit spoiled and got what they wanted (see photo below - boy not getting what he wants).  Anyway, lunch was great.  We left and planned to take the subway back into town - turned out that neither of us had any money for the train, and it was sunday so every single shop that could have given us change was closed.  We inner citied hitchhiked. 

'Hey'

'uh, hey'

'You guys aren't driving downtown are you?'

'uh, why...'

'well, you see, we don't have any change for the train, and it's sunday so we can't get any change, and we really need to get downtown'

'well...I... ya I suppose I could give you a lift.

Hitchhiking Rule # 1 - It's easy for someone to drive right by you, but it's almost impossible for them to say no to you once your talking to them.  

Once we were in town Iurii brought me over to his friends place where I was supposed to stay the night.  We walked into his place, which turned out to be a single room, and a dirty one for that matter, and then quickly left.

'well what do you think?'

'Iurii, it stinks in there'

'what? well... you really think so'

'I don't know if I want to stay there'

Iurii then proceeded to give me one of those big hugs, all while saying 'Cooommmmoonnnn'

I laughed it off sarcastically.  What right did I have to be picky? I was a bum in France.  

Iurii had to go see another friend of his so he left me with the guy and told me that he'd asked his other friend if I could stay with her and that he'd call me once he found out - he never called.

I wasn't mad at Iurii at all, I was just uncomforable staying with that other guy, I don't know why, he was nice enough, but he gave me a weird vibe.  

I ended up searching online for someone else to stay with and actually found someone who had a phone number I could call - it was almost midnight and I was desperate.

'Hello'

'Hey, uh Pascal (that was the guys name'

'Ya, hey'

'Listen, I know its late and everything, but I'm looking for a place to stay tonight and - '

'Couchsurfing!!'

'uh ya...'

'Very nice, very nice, I have just the place for you'

'oh ya, that would be aweso - '

'- where are you?' 

'uh...'

'Meet  me at the center square in 15 minutes ' 

'ok man... thanks '

Great, I had found a place. Now I  had to politely ditch this other guy... 

'hey man'

'ya whats up'

'listen, I know this is kinda odd and everything, but... I'm going to go'

'what? go where?'

'we'll, uh, just somewhere else'

'its almost midnight, where could you be going?' (starting to sound offended) 

'uh (time for the bullshit) it-turns-out-that-someone-I-know-from-Canada-is-living-in-Lille-right-now.'

'really (and I know he was thinking 'ya right you little punk') ... and you just found this out?'

'ya... I know, kinda weird eh'

'ya, really weird' (starting to take a hint) 

'So, well, thanks for everything!'

'ya sure'

I left.  It was akward, but understandable - one of those moments where two people know exactly what their really talking about, but would rather beat around the bush then be the one to say it out loud.

I couldn't feel guilty, and I didn't (and Iurii don't tell the guy you know this) - I was more excited then anything. 

I got to the square, which was big, and suddenly realized that I had no idea what this guy looked like, and that he had no idea what I looked like.  So I did what anyone in that position would have done - stood there looking stupid.  

It ended up working out with one of those akward 'are you looking for me?' kinda things, and then the hearty laugh.  Pascal turned out to be Canadian, french Canadian, and an unreal guy.  He had just gotten back from Serbia an hour before I called and was still fresh of the traveling high.  He had been in Cassava (Kosova maybe? i don't know) when they gain independence.  He showed me a copy of the national paper that day after; the front page had a picture of Yugoslavia's leader with a hugh captioning under it that read 'FUCK YU' (YU standing for Yugoslavia) - Pascal told me that he was going to show it to his kids one day.

   

Pascal was the ultimate traveler.  He hitchhiked everywhere he went, and only brought a small backpack - and I mean small, like Grade 5 backpack small - that he didn't even fill.  He had been to almost everywhere in Europe and was still planning trips (I just talked to him yesterday and he is to hitchhiking to Budapest in a week).  He was attending school in Lille, an exchange, and he set himself up so that he works his ass off for a couple weeks, then travels for a couple weeks, then comes back and works hard, then does it all over again. 

I learnt alot from him.

His apartment was, and in his own words, 'the smallest apartment in France'.  It was shared shower and bathroom kinda place, shoved in on the top floor of an old building in the old part of town - I felt like I was one of the children of the revolution, the bohemians, and I loved it.  

Pascal hooked me up with a futon for three nights and I happily spent my days strolling around Lille reading books, going to museums, staring at art, eating baguettes  and thinking about how incredibly ugly Edmonton is.

France had won me over.

I saw my first street musician in Lille, which cheered me up considerably because, in my opinion,  I was much better at the guitar then he was, and by the looks of his guitar case, could safely say that once I ran out of money - which was bound to happen - I could most likely feed myself by playing the guitar without trouble; I felt invincible.  

The three days I spent in Lille set me up for what has become, so far, an amazing adventure, and I thank Pascal because he really set me up for the road that I am on now.  

And it's cliche to say it, but I am going to do it anyway - I felt like Chris McCandles.  

And I couldn't have been happier.

 

Calais

I awoke early. 

It was my first real day in France and I was in a good mood. Me and Iurii (sounded Yuri - he was the first person I had ever met with this name before, and I had always associated it with a Soviet spy until I met him, which I think I'd blame on James Bond ) had planned to spend the day together around Calais, I wasn't sure what we were going to do, but I was excited all the same.  I showered, did my bit and waited for Iurii to come pick me up.  At about ten he walked in the door and we took off.

Directly in front of Jonathan's apartment is a monstrous beach.  They say you can see England on a good day, but it was obviously not a good day, so instead I just stared at the low clouds and told myself it must be foggy in England.  Iurii was moving to Paris in a few weeks and wanted to say goodbye to the town (and the beach) so we spent the morning strolling around and pretending it was warm out.  It was incredibly windy, which was uncomfortable at first, but it soon became attractive since there was a wind powered go-kart (which is pretty much a sailboat on 4-wheels) cruising the strip, something I thought was brilliant, and highly amusing -

'oh oh oh! ooh! oooh!'

SPLASH!!

'Medere!' (shit in french) 

 - the guy kept on losing control as he was try to turn and ended up driving straight into the ocean, soaking himself, cursing, and then continuing on until he did it again.

Europe had put me into a historical perspective.  Standing on that beach thinking about how many men have stood there before me, the Vikings, the Norsemen, the Romans, Julius Caesar, the men of WWI and WWII , and everyone else.  It was illusive, and odd.  I felt both very small and very big at the same time.  But mostly I felt unbalanced from the wind. 

It was a pleasant morning. 

Iurii took me to his house for lunch and made me a proposition for the afternoon.  

'I have an idea for this afternoon'

'oh ya...'

'yes, I, well, I have these, these mushrooms from Holland...'

pause

'and, well, I, I only have enough for me, and, I was wondering if, if you'd like to spend the afternoon with me in the forest...?'

pause

'Iurii...'

'yes'

'I'd love to'

Off we went.

(Iurii)

I was beginning to really like Iurii.  He was a smart guy who read alot, a philosopher in his own right, and I admired him because he was older then me and had already done many of the things that I planned to do in my life.  He also had my same perspective on people and things in general.  We got along. 

'You've done these before jeremie?'

'Ya'

'Ok good, because I never have'

'really?'

'ya'

'haha perfect ... ok eat them right now and then we'll drive to the forest.'

'Ok'

It turned out that the forest was a little ways away, and Iurii didn't actually know where it was, so it took us alot longer then I thought it would to get there; the point being that by the time we got there Iurii was already high and talking like all of us do on mushrooms, and he was driving. 

'This is, this is unbelievable'

'what is?'

'That I am driving in this reality right now'

'haha just get us to this forest'

  (the forest)

The forest turned out to be unbelievable.  Big and bold, bright and lush and very French.  I was happy enough just walking around and see everything, soaking up France and its spring air.  Iurii was - and to make an obvious understatement - a happy man.  It was a beautiful afternoon.  There wasn't much conversation, but it was fine just that way, Iurii had hooked me up with some of Amsterdam's best, and I had hooked Iurii up with a supervisor, and things were great.  I spent most of the time dreaming about ancient man, tribesmen, medieval men, and wondering if there had ever been a barbarian battle in this forest before.  I could imagine it in precise detail.  Amsterdam's best.  Iurii spent most of his time walking until something on the ground caught his eye, and then he'd stay there staring at it until I called him out of it, which is where he'd suddenly start giggling and asking himself 'what is reality?' and in no way was it rhetoric.

It was a special afternoon, one of those ones that you walk away from feeling, like, 'yes!'. 

Iurii taught me how to eat an apple whole, which is something that I cannot believe I have never done before.  How many of you eat around the core and then through the core out?  It seems absurd to eat an apple that way to me now.  But then again, I am starving over here.  

We left the forest feeling better, found ourselves back at Iurii's. 

'Jeremie'

'Ya'

'I usually let couchsurfer's sleep on my floor'

'ya thats fine'

'but, I've come to like you alot... so you can share my bed with me'. 

'haha thanks man'

goodnight. 

France, my first.

I had organized a place to stay for the night through couchsurfing.  It was my first time doing this, and I didn't really know what to expect.  After a half an hour walk through the charmless town of Calais I arrived at the beachfront property of my host.  It was an apartment building, and a large one at that, yet it looked cheap and costly at the same time - it's hard to explain.  I rang the bell.

'BZZZZ!'

'We, allo?'

'Allo, uh, Jonathon?'

'We, ce moi...et ce qui ca?'

'uh, ce Jeremie?'

'Ah!  le couchsurfer!'

'We we we we tres bon, un second...'

BZZZZZ!!

Up I go.

 

Jonathan lived in a small, student orientated room, with bunkbeds and a futon.  It reminded me of my place in Lister, but without the dirt, grim, stains, or the broken heater.  I was impressed.  He was a very nice person, and had a good heart, however, he was.... boring a bit; he needed to open up a bit.  Anyway, Jonathan had invited his friend from class over to have dinner with us (which he made for me), and then Jonathan was to go play hockey (odd I know).  

Knock'

'Iurii?'

'we ce moi'

'Entree'

'Allo', he said, directed at me

'allo' 

'are you the couchsurfer?'

'Ya'

'fucking couchsurfers'

Iurii turned out to be the best of guys.  He is a Ukrainian who attends school in France - speaks 5 languages, is very intelligent and warm hearted.  Jonathan left to play hockey, so me and Iurii spent the night drinking wine and talking about Psychedelic drugs, society, and human nature.  It was great.  It was really great. 

Iurii sized me up that night and told me I could stay with him the following night.

I wished him a safe drive home, set up my futon and spent my first night in France. 

The Channel

The ferry across the Channel left me crying. 

I had sat down by the window after getting myself a glass of water, a nice seat I thought, I could see both the ocean and the rest of the room around me.  I was the first one there because I was a foot passenger and was quickly joined by another passenger on my bus. 

'Quite a day we've had,' he said jokingly,

'Ya... never mind that englishman,' 

'haha... you saw that too, poor girl.  Tell me, where'd you get that water?'

I told him where it was and he went fetch himself some.  As soon as he stood up and walked away the compartment began to fill up with groups people from the car level.  One of the groups decided to sit excatly where my friend had just been sitting, and I wasn't one to say anything - they were 8 old black men, and every one of them was decked in bling.  

Decked.  

Chains, rings, all purple jumpsuits, hats, a cane, and the bottle of booze.  I couldn't believe it.  Well I could.  It was right there.  But my friend couldn't because when he came back,vas soon as he set eyes on these guys he spat some of his water out and turned away to conceal his laughter.  He was an older guy, which made it all the more funny for me -  I started smiling, almost laughing.

He got over it and sat on the other side of the guys, but not out of view, we could see each other perfectly.  

Things started to get out of hand.  The group of men had cracked their bottle of booze and had all sat themselves down and started screaming and laughing as if, well,  they reminded me of a bunch of wild monkeys.  The funniest thing was that I couldn't make out a thing that they were saying, yet I could tell it was English, but you couldn't make out a word, and when they weren't screaming in laughter, they would make these weird sounds, kinda like, 'hoot hoot hoot!!'  that obviously made sense to them because it made them laugh even more.  It was hilarious.  

The smallest guy at the table turned out to be a leader of some sort, because they only laughed when he did, and it was absurd because he would just start laughing whenever he felt like it and then they would all break out laughing and then he would hoot like a monkey and they would start laughing even harder and then he would grab his gold chain and hold it up and shake it and hop on his ass and slamming his drink and shaking his necklace and screaming like a monkey and every single one of them would scream and shake their drinks and hop in their chair up and down on their ass.  Hysterical.  I was beside myself.  I had tears in my eyes.  I was trying so hard not to laugh I was shaking. 

Then something happened that I will always remember, because it is so odd how these things can happen between complete strangers, these moments of understanding that can only really be summed up in a look.

I looked over at my friend and he looked at me - we both burst out laughing.  

It was too much.  We were both helpless.  He got up and strolled for a bit.  I faced the ocean giggling like a little girl, tears pouring out of my eyes, trying to think about how incredibly unfunny the English Channel was.  I spent five minutes trying to stop it, it was impossible.

I finally got a grip of myself and turned back towards where my friend was sitting and saw that he was just walking towards his seat - the second we made eye contact he turn around to do another lap.  It was out of our control.  I was stuck in my corner crying trying not to look at that guy for the whole trip, it was absurd, absolutlely absurd, but so funny.  

We arrived in France and I couldn't have been in a better mood.

We had to wait for all the cars to leave because the pedestrian ramp was broken had to be walked through the car ramp;  the Englishman told the ferry guide to 'fuck off' and swore that he'd never take a PQ ferry again in his bloody life;

 and..... I took my first step into France.  

Dover

'Alright everyone, I hope you are all well, and if your not, well I hope at least your not thinking about going to hell, because in my opinion, no such place exists.  Couple of rules today on the National Express, first off all, and most importantly, don't speak to me when I am driving, because I will most rudely ignore you, and second of all, please keep your cell phone conversations to yourself, because, well, I can ignore you talking to me, but I can't ignore you talking to someone else about why there love-life is falling apart or why it is that you think drinking a dozen pints of black and spewing it all over yourself is a good time.  That said, we should be there in about ... '

I was starting to like England. 

The countryside was beautiful.  It was something I had never experienced before, the constant occupation of land with farms and a town every 10 kms, country house's that were older then my country and stone walls that reminded me strangely of Robin Hood.  It was very surreal.  I felt like a little boy reading a good story.  

Something had to happen.  

'Excuse me sir... Excuse me?  What is that beeping sound?' 

'...... ' 

'Sir? ......... Henry, you try. '

'Hey Mate!' 

'........' 

"Mate!  Sorry, but mind you, what is that beeping?'

He wasn't answering.

While I had been off in my little world, the most annoying beeping sound had started, and it had been going on for about ten minutes (which I collected from my neighbor) and the passengers were starting to wonder what it was. 

'What do you mean he won't listen?'

'We'll yew 'eard him didin ya, he won' put up wit it.'

'We'll how absolutely silly that is, George, go and talk to him'

'I 'ill do no such t'ing!  Yew 'eard him!'

'George!! ' 

The bus started to slow and came to a stop.

'We'll everyone, in case you haven't noticed (sarcatically) the bus has been a beeping which means that it is overheating, and if you don't know what that means, well, just go along.  Now I am going to go outside and see what I can do, so if all of you can stay put for a second while I go outside, and mind you, in case I get hit by a car and die, you are not allowed to leave the bus for insurance purpose's, so if you could just stay put until I or someone else comes back it would be in the interest of National Express.  Thank you!'

I loved this guy.

The bus ended up being disfunctional so we were taken to the nearest town and then shipped onto a local transit bus, which then took us Dover, by the highway, and I stress this because if anyone has ever been on a transit bus packed with people and luggage going a hundred kms an hour trying to make a ferry time, well, it was fun. 

We ended up being late for the ferry, and then next one wasn't going to leave for another 3 hours.  One of the passengers threw his suitcase across the room, an englishman, and told the till lady to' go fuck yourself and your ferry'.  Overall it was alright.

I had 3 hours to blow and I was in a good mood, so I decided to go and try and bury some of my things.  It turns out that Dover is jammed between an ocean and towering cliffs, which really means that there was no reasonable place to stash my things.  I got over it quickly and tried to find something else to do.  

Dover was, well, dead.  I walked around for about twenty minutes until I was back where I started and had found out that there wasn't anything open, not even a pub.  I had two and half hours left to burn and couldn't be bothered to stand on the dock freezing, so I decided to sit right where I was and play guitar for a bit.  I wasn't expecting to make any money, for I had only seen one person since I left the ferry station, and was almost happy for it - I had never played on the street before, and it felt better to ease my way into to it. 

Street first.

Then people. 

Then money. 

I sat down and started fiddeling around.  I hadn't been playing for 30 seconds when someone poked there head out of the top window across from me.  She must have gotten bored quickly because 30 seconds later she was gone and that was the last I saw of her.  

That was the only person I saw in the next two hours.

I packed up my stuff and found that I had been sitting on a 2 cent euro piece.  It's as much money as I have made to date. 

I took some novelty photo's and caught my ferry.