TRAVEL + ADVENTURE

A hitchhikers journey from the UK to the UAE

When I finished university, I didnt see myself settling down with a stable job and model family. Thered be time for that later. It was time to explore, to see the world and its people before responsibility tightened its noose. Im not talking gap year. Im talking gap life! Society says thats not realistic, but society never really had much imagination. Funding my way through seasonal jobs, I set out to hitchhike around the world. It all started with a journey from England back to the UAE homeward bound.

The long road home

Crazy landscapes in Cappadocia

Words + Photos By: Will Pardoe dash from their hiding places and disappear through a grate beside the tramlines. Then we were running and I suddenly found myself in a dark, dank world along with 40 other wide-eyed, excited people, all catching up and having a good chat. This was far from normal. Avoiding puddles and following the torch beams, we ventured into the tunnel. Lights were set up, beds were laid and people mingled as their dinner cooked. It was a light and happy atmosphere down there in the underworld. As I lay in my sleeping bag that night, in a cavernous concrete subway station under the streets of Antwerp, I reflected on the incredible experiences that come only through hitchhiking. To be invited into peoples lives, to ride their road for a little while; its always an adventure. I wondered what awaited me on the road ahead. I said goodbye to my new friends and was soon picked up by a German family in a campervan. That was a ride I have fond memories of playing cards with the kids in the back as the fields rolled on by, then joining the family for dinner and being invited to stay for the night. They became my family. While in Germany I stayed with some good friends in Bavaria the most stereotypically German region you could imagine. At the pub, we would eat sauerkraut and sausage over a great stein of beer, while a man with an accordion played jovially and everybody sang. Out in the forest and meadows, herds of deer sprang about, while chickens ran amok in the nearby farmyards. I was impressed to see how

So there I was, standing by the ferry terminal in Dover, when suddenly I had a car beside me with four excited guys telling me to get in. It was going to be a lot of fun, they warned me. Referring to themselves as urban explorers, they were off to Belgium for an international gathering of such people inside a drain. A peculiar invitation I most definitely accepted. On the ferry, we met up with more urban explorers. They looked at me with curiosity, like some mythical creature, and I was referred to only as The Hitchhiker. They were fun people and I was happy to be part of their adventure. Cruising to funky trance music through France and racing the other cars when the songs got exciting, we were soon in Belgium. The target, as they called it, was an abandoned subway tunnel from the 80s. The dark street was quiet except for enthusiastic whispering. Groups of two or three would

much the culture was a part of their lives. Onwards I went, down through the Austrian Alps and into Slovenia. The contrast between Austria and Slovenia was stark, and I found it exhilarating. It was a totally foreign place. My language didnt work, and the writing meant nothing to me. I had left the comfort zone behind. That night I pitched my tent behind a truck stop under a sea of endless stars.

The wayward oracle

At less than 200km wide, I had soon left Slovenia behind, only to get stuck in a Croatian petrol station for hours. But every cloud has a silver lining, and it was here that I came across Julian, one of the most interesting characters I have ever met. He had hitchhiked from Bulgaria to Scotland for a wedding, and was returning. After a frustrating day, it was good to have company, and we chatted while trying to catch a ride. He spoke of how incredible it was to be able to make these mammoth journeys; all of the people and acts of kindness playing a piece in a vast puzzle. A hundred will pass you by, but the hundred and first will take you and how he will make all the difference! From Julian, I learnt to approach the drivers.

Leaving England

Crazy Croatians!

26

OUTDOORUAE

Worth a try...

I guess the British in me had told me not to intrude on them but if you dont ask, the answer is always no, and that is a philosophy that I have lived by ever since.

The bump in the road

I had soon left Slovenia behind and reached the shores of the Mediterranean. I noticed that the temperature was rising and the sun was shining. I could feel the progress; the movement and the changes subtle at first, and then becoming louder and louder as the miles passed by. Looking out over the sea, I felt the pull of what was beyond. If I followed the road far enough, it would lead me home. A far and distant land that called my name! I continued south through the Balkans, until the road ran out in Montenegro and gravel tracks took over. Ironically, Montenegro would be the proverbial bump in the road. To

make the following clear, I first should explain an interesting dynamic that comes from hitchhiking: when it is just you and the driver, the car provides a setting for private conversations with a stranger who will never be seen again. As a hitchhiker, you are often a willing ear for them to talk to, and the conversation is your payment for the ride. However, in this case I was picked up by a guy who abused this dynamic. His feelings were repressed in Montenegro and so he was keen to talk to an outsider, but his lewd comments made me feel very awkward. I should have drawn the line and this was a lesson that would prove useful later. There is a limit to the price you pay for a free ride! We arrived in the capital and I was glad to see him drive away. I pitched my tent in a field and was on the road again by morning. After a while, a guy pulled over. Taxi?, he called. No thanks; auto stopping, I replied. Okay, free, free! Well, alright then, so I put my bag in the back and got in. He soon started talking prices, despite speaking little English. When he realised I wasnt going to pay him, he stopped the car under a bridge and turned off the engine. Five euros! he demanded for the 3km wed just covered. What?! No way. I discussed it with him for a bit until the tension started to rise. Quickly, I retrieved my bag from the back before he had a chance to drive off with it. He got out of the car and confronted me, taking hold of my bag as collateral. That was crossing the line. Stepping into his personal zone, I put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed down. Let go of the bag, get back in the car and drive away, I said into his face. He was a stocky guy and could have taken me, but my height intimidated him. He didnt understand my words, though knew exactly what I meant, and soon he was gone. I was alone under the bridge, feeling violated and fed up. Id had enough with Montenegro. It was a long wait in the burning sun, wondering if he would come back with cronies.

Eventually a car stopped, offering to take me to the bus station for 2 EUR. Anywhere but here! Soon I was on a bus to Ulcinj, from where I could continue into Albania.

Mafi faloos

Albania was quite an experience. Ordered chaos. Hitchhiking was not possible payment was expected. When I asked for the bus station, I was directed to a patch of gravel beside a dirt roundabout. Here, wait. Public transport was exactly that the public, driving up and offering a ride for a small fee. With a bit of bartering I had a seat to Tirana, the capital, for 2 EUR. We waited half an hour for the car to be full, then set off. I was sitting next to a friendly old man who was intrigued why I was in Albania, which I explained through my map. Everyone speaks body language, notebook and map. Beside him was a crazy old woman who amused the men, shouting and causing quite a ruckus. All was going well until the engine coughed and died.

The mother-lode of bin food!

Rumbling through Macedonia in an old communist-built Yugo

The open road...

The passengers piled out, standing around looking a bit lost. Until then, I had been lost surrounded by a strange language in a strange land. But now I had a plan, taking out the Tirana sign I had drawn earlier. They seemed to sense that this was my area of expertise and were soon huddled at my side, hoping to get in on the action! Within seconds a BMW pulled over, driven by the chief of police, who invited me to get in. I ran back and gave the old man my Tirana sign, which they were glad of. Happy for my success, they waved me goodbye. It all went well until one day in Greece when I realised I only had 20 EUR left, and another 5,000km still to cover! This called for a change of strategy. Leaving my dignity behind, I began getting my food from the supermarket garbage cans. And let me tell you, that was the best food I had eaten all trip! Anything you can find in a supermarket, you can find in the bin and fresh, too. Eggs expiring that day, bananas, oranges, mushrooms, lettuce, carrots, peppers, onions and bread. Having been living off dry bread and chocolate spread for a week, this mother lode made me feel rich. Its amazing how such a simple thing as an egg can be so rewarding when you have nothing.

wanted to see Istanbul. Amazingly, a few days later I found myself showing her around the city. Together we hitchhiked 750km to Cappadocia, where ancient cave villages were carved out of the mountains. She loved the experience and it was good to show her why I do it. She flew home and I continued the fun way. In eastern Turkey I picked up my Iranian visa. Wow, I was so happy to see that in my passport! People said I was foolish for visiting Iran, but they had an image warped by the media. I wanted to see for myself, having faith that the majority of people in this world are good people, regardless of the invisible lines that separate us. As it turned out, Iran was the highlight of the journey. The Turkish were friendly, but the Iranians were ten-fold friendlier! I made it to Tehran within two days. Iran may be a very strict country, but the Persians know how to party like anybody else! I was staying with some family friends and I accompanied them to a house party. Behind closed doors, the hijabs came off, the home-brewed drinks were brought out, and the dancing took over. Towards the end of the night, we sat down for a meal of kebab, mezzeh and salads. It was a

My mum and I with Gurkhan, a friendly Turk

The Middle East

I carried onwards to Turkey. I found the Turkish to be very friendly and welcoming people. As I wandered around the Blue Mosque one evening, I was invited to sit and talk by some locals. I returned to them every night to play backgammon, drink Turkish coffee and smoke shisha. Chatting with my mum on Facebook one evening, she mentioned that she had always

Khalid, who dropped me right at my front door!

great evening, and I was grateful to be able to experience the real Iran. Beneath the culture, were all the same. As I journeyed closer to home, things were getting more familiar; the music, the call to prayer, the humidity. When I reached the port in Bandar Abbas, I tuned my radio to 104.4, and the faint sound of Wild Ones crackled across the gulf. Dubai was so close I could hear it! I thought of the people driving down Beach Road listening to the song, and what they would be seeing. I tried to get a ride aboard a dhow, but security stopped me in my tracks. Instead, I traded my passport for a ferry ticket (which I bought back from the captain upon arrival!). After sailing for thirteen hours, Sharjah emerged through the early morning haze. It wasnt a pretty sight, but my it was beautiful! I caught a ride straight into Dubai with a man named Khalid, sporting the clich aviators, trimmed beard and immaculate kandura the perfect ride to cap off the journey. It was an awesome feeling to drive down Shiekh Zayed Road, the familiar buildings towering over us. Id made it! After an incredible two months, through 104 rides, I was home.

My hosts from Tehran - an awesome family

Joining a family for lunch in their farmstead, somewhere in Macedonia

Party time in Tehran