Stories

 

Hitching honeymooners' report

writen by Ludo Jambrich (authorised by Sasha Jambrich)

Acknowledgements
During our travel we encountered plenty of help and hospitality and so we would like to express our gratitude to, at least some of the people who helped us. Especially to:
Tom and Alena from Prague, family of Jozef and Maria from Hildweinsreuth, Friedl and Maria from Weiden, Udo and Ingrid from Cologne, Yanko and Miriam from Huy, Aldert from Hellevutsluis, Vincent and Perry from Den Haag, Anne and Michael from Fischerhutte, Bogdan from Ivano-Frankovsk, Hildebrandt from Winklarn, Ahmet and Rashid from Teheran, as well as, to the dozens of other nice people we met. Our thanks also belong to founders and members of internet free accomodation databases whose services we used with success, especially to:
http://www.travelhoo.com
http://www.stay4free.com
http://www.autostop.lt/hhb
For editing and correcting our story, thanks to Josh Swenson and Craig Chisholm.
For technical assistance with the designing and hosting www site of this story we would like to thank DaVince Design and Webkeys International.

Preface
Everything started with a short journey to Bratislava. Somewhere on the train I lost my mobile phone. Then I lost my umbrella in a tram and forgot a magazine in a restaurant. "Well," I said to myself, "if it is a loosing day today, let's loose something really valuable." And so I visited the parents of my girlfriend Sasha, and asked whether they would agree to me marrying their daughter. They did, and my freedom was lost too. What does a (yet) free lance budget traveller think about most before his marriage? Yes, about the honeymoon. Obviously, for a professional traveller, a honeymoon journey is also a business trip (I am going to claim the expenses as production costs on my income tax returns), and so I decided to bring you this report about it.
From my reference above, you might think that I would take my sweetheart to an exotic place like Tadzikistan, Madagascar or Guyana. Well, I would have liked to, but fate had another opinion. My royalties were late. I did not get the grant for my new book, which I hoped for. Burglars cleaned out our apartment, and the insurance company was not eager to pay. We lacked the resources not only for an exotic, but also for a normal holiday (which I would not have accepted anyway). I was forced to think out something cheap, interesting and extraordinary (a matter of prestige for a serious traveller). It occurred to me to hitchhike Europe as in old good student days. And to make it more interesting (and hopefully faster), in a wedding dress. It should be a journey after people. I offered my plan to a distressed Sasha. What a wonder. Probably fully aware who was she going to marry - she accepted.

Getting your travelling garments
As our real wedding garment did not look like wedding at all, we needed to get something stylish.
"We buy wedding dress for under 10$." Our ad published in the local weekly meet with unexpected success. An avalanche of offers started to roll in. We were surprised but prepared, and very selective. The criteria was clear: "...is it white and to the ground? Has it got a veil? What about a sack? And by the way, lace; is there any lace? These are very important to us..."
The bidders were mostly women. Most of them wanted to help the young couple, and so felt that they had a right to know something about us: "Do you intend to marry in a church? What kind? When is the wedding going to take place? What kind of bouquet does the bride have? How old are you?." Taking in to account that, for the majority of them, the dress was a memory of the most beautiful moment in their lives, we had to be very careful in concealing the real purpose of our interest: "Well you know, it is not entirely clear yet, whether the dress would be used for the ceremony, but we would take it on the honeymoon for sure..."
Seek and you find. Knock and all doors will be opened to you. Put out an ad and you will get what you want! I had to travel about 20 km for the clothes, but I got a dress fit for a princess. Snow white satin with a sack, long veil, and a pile of lace with in-wrought pearls -- satin shift included. After bargaining, it cost 8 bucks.
They fit the bride perfectly, but Sasha did not share my enthusiasm and raised some objections. She thought it was too thick, too long, not very comfortable for hitching (as if any suitable wedding dress for hitching exists) and so on. She refused to accept it with a genuine joyfulness. The beautiful and innocent garment was adopted only when I agreed to cutting the long sack (what a victim!) and swore that a fast-spreading-undress system, which I designed under the stress of circumstances and which my mother agreed to sew, would work. It was much easier with the bridegroom's garments. I had to visit all the second-hand stores in town, but again, I got what I wanted. The wedding dress would soon welcome from the hang-by rack an almost new black suit with couple of white shirts from Hugo Boss, im Hamburg handgemacht dandy shoes, and for the strong sun a straw (echt Panama) hat. Unfortunately, they had no fancy handkerchief, but I managed to get a huge silk jazz bow-tie with a big fake diamond.

Preparations
There were no big disputes about the goal of the trip. My humble wife uttered that she will follow me to the end of the earth, and so indiscreetly transferred all the responsibility for the itinerary onto my shoulders. Well, my choice was Benelux.
You may say to yourself, "It is no victory to go to Benelux without money. Well hitching is free, but what about accommodation... The hotels are expensive! The youth hostels and camping grounds unsuitable for a honeymoon." You are right. But, do not forget one thing. Internet exists! To be honest, I got the idea only few days before our departure. I keyed the words free accommodation into a search engine, and in a moment, got URLs of several databases whose members should theoretically offer us a free bed. I sent out a host of emails with requests for help for hitching honeymooners. And in a few days I had a mailbox full of answers with dozens of invitations. If I added the several friends which I met during my formal journeys to the list, the problem of accommodation was solved.
We packed our backpacks, and we were ready, almost. There was one small detail left. We could not start the proper honeymoon without taking part in our wedding. After coming to the town-hall we had to endure the speech of a town deputy, the recitation of two poems, the flashes of a photographer, a few tears in the audience, and many hand-shakes and kisses. That was all. No longer than a half an hour. On the whole, painless. But the long lasting consequences!

A bride behind the benching
"I am very curious, what kind of crazy will give you a lift if you look like this?" commented my mother at the dress rehearsal of our wedding-travelling clothes. It's no secret. We were very curious as well. Although I have hitched Europe out and out, I have never tried it in a black suit and with a bride in a white veil by my side before.
We started to look for the answer to the question, "How it's gonna be?" behind the benching of the road from Zilina (our home town). As a gallant husband, I offered Sasha my arm. She accepted it gently with a sweet smile, situated the veil and with love in her eyes stretched out her right hand with the upright thumb to the road. To make it clear, we held a plate with the name of a town in our direction.
Our activity brought us a well earned attention of the drivers. Some looked at us with wide open mouths, some with smiles, some shaking their heads. There were also people who understood, and we started to accept first congratulations. Horning, flashing of searchlights, thumb-ups. Thank you!
It took us 7 whole minutes until the first car stopped. Behind the wheel of an old Nissan sat a smiling man. He addressed us in Russian, "Kud? vy? Na Czechy jed?. - Where are you going. I'm going to Czechia." Well such things happen in life. We want to get to know western Europe and our first chauffeur comes from Ukraine.
Bogdan is his name. Bogdan Michajlovich. Ivano-frankovskaja region. He is going to see dada - his uncle who lives in the Czech town Most. And where are we heading? Is it really a wedding?

Sviaty dela - holy things
Bogdan zanimaetsja biznisom - he is conducting business. He buys second-hand cars in Czech and sells them at home, in the Ukraine. Not only this! His interests are diverse. This time he wants to bring home old German TV-sets. He gets them for 12 bucks a piece and sells them for 6 times more in his village. Or a cubic meter of wood apiece. Or a cow. Or a horse for 3 TVs (They have to be in a very good shape in that case). The last time he managed to transport 8 sets in his Lada car. Two in the trunk, 2 on the roof and 4 inside, when he threw out everything except the driver's seat (it is a piece of cake to get other seats back home).
Well, what a long trip. When he gets to Most and buys his stuff, he will not go home at once. No, no! He is not a robot! By the town, there is a beautiful little lake. There he takes a rest and has few good Czech beers.
By the way, if we are going to western Europe, what about returning with a car for him. He heard that in Belgium you can get a car for free! And he would pay us for that. Think twice... No? What a pity.
His Ukrainian companion is in a Czech hospital. Got sick during his last business trip. Pneumonia. He did not want to go there. He didn't have the money for it, but the doctor was strict. And now he is there for free. For free! He is in paradise. Clean bed. Good food 3 times a day -- meat as well. This is his car. Bogdan brought it to him from home. Well things work like that in his village. There is no insurance and so, when a friend is in trouble, he has to take care of him. And also care for his car and family. A friend is the best insurance.
As we were approaching the Czecho-Slovak border, Bogdan was getting more and more nervous. He started to ask, "What do you think? Will they leave us in peace? You know in Ukraine they would not trouble a wedding. A wedding is a Sviaty dela - holy thing."
Well, we were ready to help our good samaritan. Sasha put on the veil and me the jacket. As we could see, Bogdan did not rely on us but on the help of God. As the custom-house appeared in sight, Bogdan started to cross himself and send his prayers to the Mother of God. His face was showing a humble expression. In a moment it was clear why. When the custom officer saw an old car with Ukrainian registration, he order the driver to park the car at the special strip.
The veil and the Slovak passports fulfilled their duty in the end. Bogdan had to pay only a small fine for the bald tires, and in ten minutes we could continue to Czech border. Where everything had to be repeated; veil, crossings, prayers, humble expression, custom-house. When it was over without any losses, Bogdan's mood improved. He started to question, "And how many people were there at the wedding reception? Only 18?! We are used to haveing at least 300! And you had only one meal? That is hard to believe. If there is a wedding at our village, they slaughter at least 1 ox, 1 or 2 pigs, dozens of poultry... You have to eat and eat till here." pointing to a place under his chin.
By the road they were finishing a hypermarket. " What is that?", asked the broad Slavic soul?
"Bolshoy magaz?n - a big supermarket," we say, "you can buy anything, you want there!"
"Anything? I shchastie paluch?etsya - can you get happiness there?"
Saying good bye we exchanged addresses. We are invited to Ivano Fankovsk. When we come Bogdan promised to slaughter a stag to celebrate our visit.

The beautiful city of one hundred towers
Prague is already an elderly lady, but it seems like she thrives on the centuries. She casts a mysterious spell. Every day thousands of tourists besiege her in a desperate desire to take home at least a piece of her beauty, and still the loveliness does not diminish at all! Well, in the last years the city has been adorned with eye-catching billboards of multi-national corporations, enriched with McDonalds', and upgraded to world-class tourist destination complete with horse-drawn coaches, rickshaws and stalls selling Russian caps, but what can we do against the tsunami of globalisation. Despite all of that, just go to the centre early in the morning, or wander away from the beaten track and you will surely be joined by the genie loci. He will lead you through Zlata ulicka, Mala strana, across the Charles bridge or the deserted little lanes of Hradcany. He will probably take you to the pubs where the beer pushes itself onto your table and introduce you to the Prague people, who when dealing you, will never forget to say pane - sir even if it is say, "go to hell."
In Prague we stayed with the long-legged Tom and Alena (together measure 3,74 m). A few years ago I met Tom on the Trans-Siberian railway. He was on the way to Beijing, same as me. We saw piece of China in those 2 weeks we travelled together. We separated when Tom went on to Tibet and I continued into the south. One month later on the way home, I was resting in the oasis, Dunhuang, in north-east China, and who did I see riding a bicycle in the street? You are right. Tom. "Hey you, Tom...," I yelled, "why are you so lonely. Let's pass through Kazakhstan together!" He was so surprised that he almost fell from the rented bike. He agreed, and we played cards (the looser had always to buy sappy Kazakh water melons) in the train from Alma Aty to Moscow for the duration of the journey.
This time, the meeting was not accidental. Since our China days, Tom has visited Slovakia several times, and I have visited his place in Prague. Despite finishing his studies few years ago, and his position as a lawyer (and Alena as well), he has not forgot travelling. In the last years he has travelled Iran, Pakistan, Armenia, Georgia and to give some travelling training to Alena, they wandered Turkey, Syria and recently Burma. Individually of course. With backpacks. There were more than enough topics to talk about.

The very centre of central Europe
Even in conservative Germany, the combination of wedding dress and extended thumb worked. On the deserted regional roads we verified the theory that a hitchhiker does not need heavy traffic with many cars. One car is enough. A few minutes after we started to hitchhike an older Opel gave us a lift. His stalwart driver was identical to my idea of the Norse god, Odin. Long hair, flagging beard, robust silver jewels weighing at least 2 kg on his arms, ears and neck which started to clink whenever he added a good-natured roaring laugh to his speech. Extravagant interior designer Hildebrandt (www.giel.de/products/hildebra.htm) was complete with perfect, long, artificial nails which were observed by Sasha with noticeable envy.
"Are you really honeymooners? Wahnsinn - crazy!" Laughing, head shaking, "And you are going to travel like this for a whole month? Wahnsinn!" He obviously liked our idea very much. He made a detour of about 30 km and took as far as the little village Hildweinsreuth. Besides peace, nature and lot of blueberries, Hildweinsreuth is proud of one more thing; a few hundred meters from the last of a dozen houses which make up the village, is the point which was proclaimed to be the very middle of Central Europe (of course not the middle of all Europe, that point is in Kremnica, Slovakia) by the German geographic society.
We stayed in this wonderful place for a few days. Our hosts were Joseph, Maria and their family. The names have there meanings. Joseph and Maria live in the love of God, pray before every meal and before going to bed, regularly visit the house of God and thank the Maker for what they have received in this world. A few meters of their house is a chapel built by family ancestors who devoted it to the biblical parents of the same names. Joseph works in a bank, and in his free time leads a men's choir. Maria runs their small pension and is into natural medicine. They believe in traditional values, live their lives and live them well. I have not seen many families in which harmony reigns as in theirs. You may be interested in the names of their children; Caroline and Andreas.
After a nice rest in the cradle of nature and trying barley soup, weisswurst, rye beer and some other regional specialities, we were prepared to leave for the town Weiden to visit some other Bavarian friends; Friedl and Maria.

A bit more of Oberpfalzen
I' ve known Weiden and Friedl for several years. Hitchhiking acquaintances. Completing an apprenticeship in Germany 4 years ago, I was hitching a lot and this jolly man gave me a lift once. He was interested in Slovakia, and I was able to show him some of its good characteristics. Friedl offered me accommodation in Weiden and in the following months I enjoyed his hospitality a lot. Since then he has come to Slovakia 3 times. Every time he brings twice as many friends as the time before. This summer the number reached 17. Maybe we will open a travel agency in the future? I have to mention the idea to him. Anyway, drinking good Bavarian beer, we had a good time as usual. The next day we set off on the way to Cologne.
The means of transport was a massive truck with a talkative driver. "Herzliche glückwünsch - all the best for your marriage!" with these words we were welcome in the cockpit of his Mercedes. He had been driving for more than 30 years, but he had never seen hitching honeymooners before. He was on the way to Dortmund, so we were about to travel 7 hours with him. Impulse man from Westfallen did not scrape on words, and because his monologues were interrupted only now and then with a stream of swears he addressed to inept members of the traffic, we got to know a little about his feelings on some of the aches of the country we were passing through; "... the present manners are unhealthy.
Already in school the children caste each other according to what kind of clothing labels they wear. You do not have the right, expensive make of jeans or T-shirt, then you are not ours. And you dear parent, if you do not want your child as an outsider in the class, pay! And if you do not want to pay, or cannot pay, then you are considered a bad father, not only by kids, but by the other parents as well. Of course, they do not say it directly, but gossip behind your back. Well, if it is was only about garments, but no, to show the wealth goes farther and farther. When my youngest was finishing secondary school last year, out of her 23 schoolmates, 20 got a car as a gift! Well tell me, is it normal? The young generation is spoilt now."

To Asia for a retirement
World War II had no mercy on Cologne, and it suffered bitterly. The historical centre was totally destroyed by heavy bombing, so nowadays the rebuilt city gives the impression of entirely modern metropolis. The only exception is the Dome of Cologne, one of the most beautiful cathedrals in Europe. It was for a short time the highest building in the world (the Eiffel tower took its record). Not far from the cathedral they once produced the original Eau de Cologne, the name of which is nowadays used by all the cosmetic industry.
The city was interesting, our hosts even more. I met them year ago in Cambodia. Udo and Ingrid are already retired, but in spirit, are very young indeed. Every year they save some money, pack their backpacks and go out of Europe, to the third world, for few weeks or even months. On their own. To travel cheap, they use public transport and stay in budget hostels. This year they had already managed to visit Vietnam and were preparing a journey to India. What a great retirement! I hope to have a similar one.

Finding the way in Belgium
As we know, Belgium is divided into the French speaking Walloons regions and Flanders, where Flemish, a language similar to Dutch, is spoken. I should not forget to say, that the languages differ so much that Walloonies and Flemish do not understand each other. They no only have different words, but also different names for towns in their country. If the direction signs by the road changes from let say Brussels to Bruxelles or Luik to Liege after you cross the unmarked border between the Walloons and Flemish parts, you have a chance to guess what is going on, but if the change of name is from Bergen (Flanders) to Mons (Walloons) occurs, the odds of finding your way are small. No double names on the signs. Every police department keeps them only in the mother language of its chief. As a foreigner who went wrong because of such a misleading posting policy, you can at least take comfort in the fact that you do not suffer alone. Such things happen to Belgium aborigines travelling to the other language province of their own country. And pretty frequently!
Luckily, we did not experience many problems with navigation. The small town of Huy is pronounced differently in the two languages, but is written identically. Our terminus of the day was an apartment of Yanko and Miriam. A few years ago I celebrated my birthday with Yanko in La Paz, Bolivia, and since then we had exchanged 2 or 3 letters. Now we saw each other again.
As always unshaved Yanko, with longer curly hair and Bulgarian ancestors, is for many of his acquaintances in Huy, a kind of savage. After secondary school he did not go to university, but started to make his living as a guitarist in a band, later as a salesman and bartender. He did not save what he earned, did not buy a car or a flat. He went travelling instead; Canada, USA, Central and South America. He was happy there, on the road. There he could write short poems in peace, take photographs, get to know interesting people. To live well.
Well, the last three years he has been working in a normal job. The reason is not only Miriam, but his eternal study of photography. The last exam was successfully passed a short time ago and so, he has to decided whether he will set out on his way or enter into the adventure of marriage. The sequence of the life steps which he declares to Miriam is: "First house, then baby, and after marriage, maybe..."

Aldert's Hitchhikers
"Wear the veil, please"
"No I will not"
"Sasha, wear the veil, you see nobody is stopping when you do not have it."
"But it is so hot...."
"Listen, I am not going to stand here till tomorrow, wear the veil. I have my jazz bow-tie on as well..."
Oh, yes, even the veil was not helping much on the way from Belgium to Holland. The drivers either had no sense for fun or had the car full of family members. The waiting times became longer than an hour and if somebody observed us standing there under hot July sun, he could sometimes hear the nervous dialogues mentioned above. Nobody wanted to give the honeymooners a lift. Yes, finally somebody! A young man aimed to help us, but gave us a lift only few kilometres and left us at a terrible place where it was impossible to hitchhike. We had to walk with our luggage a few kilometres to the next highway exit. A real test of marital commitment
At night we got to Hellevutsluis, a little town by Rotterdam, where we were supposed to meet our first internet host. His name was Aldert and he was waiting for us. He even gave up his wide bed in our favour and went to sleep in the living room. To tell the truth, at that time I would have fallen asleep on a railway bridge without a problem and we were only able to show our gratitude the next day.
Aldert is a a nutrition expert (from what you can judge by heaps of bottles full of healthy vitamins in his kitchen, and books about enzymes in his bookcase), and a nice man (which you find out soon being his guest). He likes people and he is fond of meeting them, while travelling and at home as a host as well. He had been in the internet free-accommodation databases for more that year and we had the privilege of being his first guests. The first, but not the last! The second day two more persons interested in accommodation called, and two Lithuanian girls hitching Europe found a resting place in Aldert's apartment. The same day a hitching Polish couple returning from England showed up. They were welcome as well.
Here we fully realised that we live in the information age. While the Lithuanian girls were communicating with home with a mobile phone, the last mentioned couple was even better equipped. Andrzej fetched a notebook with modem from his backpack, and after connecting to a provider he downloaded about 80 e-mails which they had got in the last 2 days. He had to work a bit during their holiday. I should not forget to add that Andrzej and Anika were not only into computers, Stoppard's plays and Sibelius' violin concerto, but also cooking. They made a tasty dinner for Aldert and all of his hitchhikers.

Dutch Vincent but not Van Gogh
The road network of Holland is too thick. Too many highways with too few places to hitchhike. No wonder that the 150 km to den Haag took us almost half a day. Here we met another friend from the internet, Vincent. The typical brick house not far from the centre of the city where he lived with his uncle became also our house for the next few days.
Twenty-nine year old Vincent is the kind of person whom people used to call a self-made-man. He finished state school at the age of 16, and started to take courses in a better educational institution; the school of life. He changed occupations several times until sticking to IT in the army. He started intensively studying computer science and marketing by himself, and after a few years of work in the field he co-owns a company focused on internet business. His office is in his living room, and from there he fulfils his vision of a company, www.wiredworld.com. His company should not only give people jobs and enable them to make some money, but also help its members to profit from IT, to save time and to enjoy the wonders of life. Any firm at its beginning needs a lot of time, so Vincent spends about 12 hours a day by his PC. He finds great satisfaction in his work, and does not mind that has no time for other things. To be honest, he does find a window in his schedule here and there, like after our arrival. Over a glass of wine he explained to us why he does not have a car, but instead goes to business meetings by tram ("You know, you make yourself interesting. Sometimes my business partners are shocked that I do not have a car. In most cases I am able to convince them that in the new information society in which my firm is building, a car is more of an annoyance, then a useful thing. Well, not having a car is a matter of image for me."), or that his life philosophy is a philosophy of modesty ("The principle of my existence is breathing. If I breathe, I already am. What I get above and beyond that is a kind of gift for me, and I am able to be grateful for that."), or why he thinks he will live to the age of 120 years ("Most of the things in life, age included, are a matter of self-fulfilling prophecies. I know my body is able to live for so long, and as I firmly believe it will. I will make it.").
Well, these are few of Vincent's ideas. To tell the truth he liked to make jokes and sometimes I was not able to judge when he was serious and when he was just kidding. I had a solution for that, though. I ostentatiously trusted his every word, and with me being so innocence, it was no longer funny for him to pull my leg.

Amsterdam, Oh, Amsterdam
Of course, we visited the decent city of den Haag, where you can find not only the residence of the Dutch Royal family, but also sculptures of Henry Moore in the public park. We popped into the historical Delft (watch out this Delft is not well known for prophecies but for blue earthenware), and undertook a journey (clearly by hitchhiking) to Amsterdam.
If you want to get the impression of such a diverse metropolis on the smallest scale possible, go to the postcard racks in one of the city's many souvenir shops. Here you find out, why never-ending convoys of tourists stream to this city.
Inevitably, the postcards cannot miss the topic of Vincent van Gogh. He was not very popular at home in his day, but now... In all of the tourist places you can see the famous self-portrait and thousands of variations. Van Gogh as a Rastaman, Van Gogh smoking marihuana, Van Gogh with a punk hair style... Another popular theme of the postcard is sexual taboo breaking; artistic Saudek's photographs make one edge, pictures of a scuba-divers crawling out of a vagina the other. For the card-writers with artistic feelings are postcards of the works of art of the above mentioned earless whopper, Rembrandt or van Dyck. Obviously, the typical tourist scenes are on display as well, where you can see shots of tulips, windmills, bicycles, or romantic water channels with anchored houseboats. When you get more time and go into the town itself, you will find out that in Amsterdam, all of mentioned topics are abundantly present.
In one huge pile of history, successful businesses, liberal views of life and a metropolitan atmosphere you will find, among other things, the crowded museum of famous Van Gogh, dozens of galleries, diamond-cutting workshops, coffee shops with marihuana or psychedelic mushrooms on the menu, the red-light district with prostitutes in sexy underwear sitting behind windows, the collection of Madam Tussand wax figures, wild night life, archaic jukeboxes in the streets, police patrols on the bikes, street-stalls selling raw herring and plenty of other things which make Amsterdam unique among other European towns.

Biking across America
After a city of this size there was no wonder that we felt like going to the countryside. We took a few cars, and in a village in the south of the country visited Perry (again e-invitation). It had been only recently that he had returned from a 7 month bike trip across USA and South America. 12 000 km in a saddle on American roads (details www.delhigate.com), that is a proper accomplishment for a citizen of the country that made a bike as one of its symbols.
Honestly, having a look at the slim and very quiet young man, with the sign "Angel of Death" on his T-shirt, who is interested in rock music and stamp collecting, you may not expect that, but appearances can be misleading. Perry was riding during that journey up to 300 km per day, and he even overcame the Andean passes of altitude above 4000 meters on his bike. We had a look at the memorable bicycle in the garage. Two days before he had arrived on it from den Hague, 200 km away. No problem.

The capital of unified Europe
The Arden always represented a big problem for the armies of warring European powers. Not for us. From Holland to French Strasbourg, we made it with 5 cars in 9 hours. The transport of the day was secured with a mechanical designer, psychologist (he was observing the countryside more than the traffic and we avoided an accident only with a help of God), Albanian immigrant, young Frenchman knowing not a single word English or German, and in the end a bio-engineer who was responsible for the quality of Krombacher - the most popular French beer. A very important function!
In the evening we got to our destination, and were even on time for a dinner with our new hosts; friendly Anne and Michael. Michael is a young scientist, who likes to shoot a bow. Anne is responsible for IT in the Strasbourg opera, and collects (throws as well) boomerangs. Both of them are into paragliding. And into hospitality too. Had a great time there.
We cemented our friendship, and won their hearts through their stomachs. In the forest around their house a lot of berries grew, and we stunned their taste buds with blackberries and blueberries on pasta. We were happy to bring them into a gourmand paradise. All they were able to say with the full mouths was, "C' est bon."
Besides wandering in the Vosges mountains, visiting ruins of once mighty castles, observing the eclipse and testing the products of the vineyards stretching out on the mild slopes around the Rhine, we could not miss one more attraction; the ancient Strasbourg.
Strasbourg looks more German than French. Well, it is not exactly France it is Alsace! Every Alsacean speaks German at least as good as French, and it is clear why the buildings of the Council of Europe, Human Rights and European Parliament grew up in this city.
By the way, if you want to have a look at the impressive buildings you do not have to be a European deputy. You just need to make an appointment. To enter the magnificent courtyard you do not need even that. The uniformed guards let you in on roller blades or barefooted. No one objects if you have a rest sitting in the shade of arcades of the parliament. Being hungry, you can make a picnic there.
As Anne worked in the Opera we were invited to visit it. It was holiday, so no there was no performance, but on the brighter side, we had a look at the backstage. Even more remarkable. I have been to opera performance before, but until the Strasbourg opera visit, I had never had a chance to ride on a turning stage or see a functioning iron curtain. I thought it was only an expression used by politicians in the cold war, and here I saw it really exists! We were allowed to pull it up and down. We felt like world superpowers!

Lets go home
Strasbourg was the last stop of our honeymoon, and here we got the most exotic lift. A truck from Teheran. The lorry looked well kept from outside, but when we got in, we found ourselves in the Iranian countryside. The cab was pretty neglected and at least 30 years old. So were its two drivers Ahmet and Rashid. Blowsy, unshaved, and judging by the smell, they probably took their last shower at home. Well, the most important things were that they stopped for us, and they were nice.
Our communication abilities were very limited. They did not speak any European languages and we do not have a good command of Persian. So we just smiled at each other. They offered Iranian tee to us, and we treated them with Dutch candies.
As we were approaching Munich, they showed us a fax in the Arabic alphabet. The only words we were able to read was the office address in Munich.
Their gestures said, "Do you know this street?"
"Well, show us the map of the city, and we will find it for you," we answered with our hands and legs.
"We have no map and no money to buy it..."
Well, this is what I call a courage. Trying to find an address in a city of almost 5 million inhabitants without map, without knowing a word of the language, and with a 20 m long truck... Blessed ignorance.
We decided to help our drivers. We looked up the address on a map in a gas station and navigated the truck to the hands of the forwarding-agent.
Well this sacrifice cost us precious time, and meant the first night in the tent during the journey. At least it finally found its use, and we had not carried it in vain. We made our camp in a forest by a petrol station.
In the morning we got dressed up and took a position at the station exit. We waited without a luck for half an hour until a VW stopped beside us. The prospecting couple in the car turned to be representatives of the German federal police. Checking our passports was not sufficient for them, so in the hope that they would expose dangerous criminals who were escaping from the chase of Interpol in the disguise of a married couple, the inspector checked our data through a transmitter with the headquarters while the woman-sergeant watched us. Only the commissar Rex was missing. We had an itching to undertake something and become the new Bonny and Clyde, but gave up the idea in the end. They might make a film about us, but being a gangster couple it not a prosperous career.
No detection took place and so we were soon free. A few more cars, no traffic jams in Austria, and no more controls. The same day we got home, and put the wedding garment in the wardrobe. We decided to keep it in commemoration of our honeymoon. Who knows, we may find a use for it in the future. It might be interesting to repeat the journey at some suitable occasion in the future. Maybe our golden wedding anniversary...?