Whilst in Barcelona Nina and I decided that we would meet my parents on their holiday in Venice for one day. I knew at that point that it was a crazy idea but they would appreciate a day together and it was the perfect excuse to get further east. The only obstacle was 1200km and the expense of the train, boat and bus ride. On leaving our wwoof in the Spanish Pyrenees we would have to cross two borders, through France and west to east of Italy. It seemed that the most economical way would be a four day hitch hike. We’d bought a tent in Spain and had a new sense of freedom.
Amanda and Deno dropped us at a large petrol station near to Figueres, there were a lot of trucks, we were close to the start of the toll road into France. We checked out the number plates and soon realised that every other truck was either French, Italian, Bulgarian, Czech… We were in a good place to get east and so wrote out our “ITALY” sign and began to wait. We swapped sign holding every 10 minutes and after half an hour decided that talking to truckies in the petrol station might work better.
Scouring the number plates and asking the easterly nationals “Italy? France?” we were soon greeted with an “OK”. The plate was Bulgarian and we were not too sure how far in that direction he was going but we hopped in and figured that part out on route. We’d hitched in Spain before but only an hour up the road each time. Now we were up high in a truck cab and probably for quite some time. We introduced ourselves and settled in to a journey with Jorge. He spoke no English, we spoke no Bulgarian but we soon worked out that he could take us as far as Nimes in France, an hour or so from Marseille.
We were dropped at his turning off point, now starting to rain and not in an easy place to pick up another ride. We were on the highway and so started walking in search of another good spot to hitch from. We felt glad that we’d got 200km or so in the right direction but we were now a little stranded. Nobody flying past us could or would stop and maybe it was a little dangerous too. Within 15 minutes or so a highway repair truck pulled over and kindly offered to take us to a good hitching place. He dropped us at a toll. It seemed a little cheeky asking for a free ride in a place where people were paying for the road but we had no choice and so held up our “ITALY” sign once again.
It seemed like nobody would stop here, not many trucks, no number plates for other countries and not that much eye contact either. Enter Ben! A french lad who lived up in the mountains. He pulled over, told us he was heading to Marseille and helped to put our packs in the back of his van. We were soon chatting about anaerobic digesters and composting techniques. He was a really nice guy and within an hour he was on the phone trying to fix us up a bed for the night at his friends in Marseille. He made several phone calls and while we waited for a reply we weighed up the possibility of camping on the outskirts of the city – not such a nice place to stay.
We were beginning to realise that when hitch hiking we are at the mercy of our drivers. A little faith and a lot of luck later we were dropped at the door of Ben’s friend in the center of Marseille. They welcomed us in, explained that it was a squat, apologised for the lack of electricity, showed us a room we could sleep in and then invited us to eat with them. We felt very fortunate that on such a rainy night we wouldn’t be erecting our tent in the dark!
Day two of our voyage to Venice started with a little shopping trip in Marseille ready for the unknown road ahead. We had a coffee, grabbed bread, cheese and fruit and followed the advice from the squatters to hitch from the toll road again heading east out of town. The toll looked uninviting and there was no real place to stand for foot passengers. We were asked to move to a different area on the opposite pavement by security and it seemed unlikely that we could get picked up in our new invisible spot!
To our surprise in a matter of minutes a mechanic from the airport pulled over in a minibus. He was heading to Toulon, an hour or so up the road. It was our first glimpse of the southern coast of France and we were relieved to be on the road again, this time heading towards Cannes. He dropped us a kilometre from a petrol station where we would find our next ride. On route to the petrol station, and now on foot, we spotted the fat sign of IKEA. Remembering that they had free internet we thought it was the perfect place to check our couchsurf requests for Venice.
Next to IKEA was the next petrol station we would try our luck from and we didn’t wait more than 3 minutes before our next ride. A male couple leaving IKEA with their new kitchenware. They had just found a new apartment in Cannes and were moving there from Switzeland in a couple of months. We squeezed in the back and they took us as far as Cannes to yet another petrol station. This one had plenty of trucks and we were hoping that our next ride would be from up high in another cab.
Enter Dimitri. We were sure when he rocked up in his monster truck that he was Italian. Our sign said “ITALY”, he looked Italian and he was going to Italy. We introduced ourselves, jumped in and asked where he was going. We would’ve been happy just to cross the border but it turns out he was going via Milano to Bologna, not all that far from Venice. Jackpot with a day to spare!
Dimitri was a really nice guy, he was only 23 but had been driving his truck for a few years, he had a young family back on the west coast of France and thankfully his taste in music was pretty cool too. Crossing into Italy and for the rest of the evening we cruised along listening to reggae and asking questions about one another’s lives in broken english and french.
By eight or nine that evening we realised that Dimitri’s trip via Milano was for a delivery and an overnight stop. We were a bit worried about staying on the outskirts of the dodgy misty metropolis of the Italian north but our kind lift giver soon offered one of his bunks when he realised we would be camping. We arrived in Milano, parked up and disappeared into the mist for a pint of Leffe happy that we had come so far.
The next morning we continued with Dimitri as far as Brescia where we said our goodbyes and started a new day and a new hitch. Well, so we thought. It turns out that the north of Italy is not used to hitch hikers and the lady at the petrol station had great determination in telling us not to hitch from her slip road or she would call the police.
After some shoulder shrugging and nonchalance from me we decided to give her her way and moved on. We walked for some time towards the centre of Brescia where we saw the bold blue and yellow bricks of IKEA once again. We thought it to be a lucky charm and so crossed the motorway and entered the store. There is no free internet in Italy though and after a 1.99 pasta dish we stepped outside to try our luck at the leaving customers with no room in there cars. Yep. Silly idea at Ikea. A friendly member of staff soon picked us up though and we decided to get a train closer to Venice. Hitch hiking in Italy is hard and the trains are cheap.
Next came our Youth Hostel in the charming city of Padua. It was our only option after our AirBNB and couch surf hosts fell through. We took full advantage though and spent the next day exploring the city on foot in the rain with a broken brolly we found. We called ahead to a couch surf host in Venice who said he was full but if we got desperate to call him. My parents were arriving in two days and if we were to be there to greet them at the port we had to go to Venice that evening.
Slightly put off by the description on his profile, we were not quite sure what we were getting ourselves into by volunteering to stay with “Autonomass”. His name was Massimo and he lived in autonomy. He greeted us at the station and was immediately keen to take us to a university building he and friends were squatting to be saved from sale by the skint Venetian municipality. That evening we heard the horror stories of Venice and the huge destructive problems of mass tourism. Apart from the palaces that are being sold off to make way for hotels, the second most visited city in the world is suffering from the 3 million or so tourists that flock in every month. Yes it’s true that Venice is sinking, we saw it for ourselves.
So Massimo’s main objective is to protest against the tourism industry. All the facts were undeniable. They were having a catastrophic effect on the city. It’s becoming a museum, and as the prices rise the locals leave. He was here to stay and with the help of the rest of the activist army they would be staging a protest on the water the following day. They will be in boats, about 100 of them with a sound system, tekno and fireworks. The main target – the Queen Victoria cruise ship. Yes, the one my mum and dad will be arriving on for our day together in Venice.
Some protest pictures here