From New York to Tierra del Fuego: How I Hitchhiked Across America. Traveling around the USA. Cool, cheap, long lasting. Lifehacks Phorum hitchhiking across America

The sixties and seventies are far behind us. When travel to hitchhike in America was the norm for many youth circles and trends. Right now, many people in America live in an atmosphere of uncertainty. Fear and destruction.

But despite this, hitchhiking across America has not lost its popularity. On many roads in America you can still meet people of different ages who, for various reasons, hitchhike across America.
But hitchhiking in America is much easier for the inhabitants of this continent than for residents of Russia hitchhiking in their homeland.
Strange, isn't it?
First of all you will need good map expensive And very detailed. So in America there are no problems with this. You can get it there in almost any library.
The most interesting thing is that when hitchhiking across America, you really don’t have to take a lot of money with you. The main thing is to initially correctly determine the path where you decide to go.
The cool thing about this route choice is that your route will naturally take you through many states. And of course, each state sometimes has its own holidays. And such a holiday is rarely complete without attractions. When hitchhiking across America, this is exactly what you should pay attention to. After all, every attraction offers free treats and drinks. plus, some local residents are happy to invite those who hitchhike (and not only them, of course) into their homes. In order to treat you to all sorts of dishes. Which they prepare according to tradition for everyone.
Well, kind of like in Russia on Maslenitsa.
But hitchhiking across America can often be upsetting for many. This often happens because it should be taken into account that each state in America has its own laws.
And they may differ dramatically from your state's law.
Hitchhiking across America is not legal in every state.
Sometimes it's better not to show that you're a hitchhiker. Just keep moving forward.
In different states of America you are better off usingsign, where the inscription on it will say that you are hitchhiking. But don't point your fingerup. Like in this photo. By the way, the guys in the photo are standing in front of the bridges - this is bad place choice to stop the car. Stopping vehicles in front of bridges is prohibited! In some states and countries around the world this gesture (fingerup) is considered an insult. Therefore, you need to thoroughly prepare for hitchhiking across America.
And when hitchhiking across America, always try to be clean and tidy. Not like thesePeopleon the picture. Often the police, despite the fact that hitchhiking is prohibited in the state, will never cause you trouble just because you look clean and tidy.
On some roads in America and other countries, it is generally prohibited to stop cars by voting. Up to punishment with a fine or a short term of imprisonment.
Keep in mind that on some roads (such as expressways) you are putting not only yourlife,but also the lives of drivers.
Among those who hitchhike across America, there is an opinion that has been tested over the years. The best way to hitchhike is West coast America.
For those who are subject to other people's influence.
Most people in America are very religious people. And if you get into a car with such a person, and you yourself do not adhere too much to any religion, be prepared for the fact that you will now begin to be brainwashed. To try to convince you to accept their faith. And it’s good if they are not sectarians who are outside the law. What should you do in this case?
Don't be rude under any circumstances. Be polite. Understand one thing: many drivers pick up travelers for the sake of conversation. And not for the sake of money. And you should be prepared for the fact that you will have to talk a lot on different topics.

The famous gesture of American hitchhikers - a hand with an extended thumb - is known throughout the world. Perhaps it is only slightly inferior in popularity to another American gesture with a different extended finger. The history of American hitchhiking, it turns out, was not easy, but very interesting.

Firstly, there was no “hitchhiking” in America. This is a European term. And in the USA, catching a ride for free has always been called hitchhiking.

It all started in the 1920s, when the states were suffering from the Great Depression. Great amount people found themselves without work; they went below the poverty line not individually, but in entire streets, and sometimes even blocks. Especially in peripheral cities. Residents of the province were forced to actively look for new opportunities to earn money, and therefore left their homes and moved to other places. And since a little less than 26 million rides had been registered in the United States by that time, the poor, hungry for work, took to the highways in search of rides. Mostly due to the fact that they did not have the opportunity to pay for another method of travel. This is how hitch hiking was born.

This quickly became a problem for railway companies and for the state in general. For the first, because people did not buy tickets, and for the second, because taxes did not go to the treasury from those tickets not purchased. The people became so insolent (from the point of view of the state) that they began to arrange stops for hitchhikers!

In general, after calculating the losses, the railway workers and the state realized that it would be cheaper to invest in promoting accidents on the roads. From completely legal methods, such as advertising on the roads (pictured below), to very murky ones:

At the same time, rumors began to spread about murderers and maniacs who caught their victims using the hitch-hiking method. Anti-hitchhiker remedies were actively advertised: from banal stickers on the windshield to radical ones that bordered on the law.

For example, Steinbeck wrote about stickers in his “The Grapes of Wrath”:
The pedestrian stood up and looked at the driver through the cab windows.
- Can you give me a ride, mister?
The driver glanced quickly at the bar.
- Don't you see what's on my windshield?
- Even if I don’t see it, I see it. But still, a decent person - he is always decent, even if some rich bastard forces him to drive with such a sticker.

But these were the radical means:

The persecution of hitch hikers did not completely eradicate the phenomenon, but it also ceased to be widespread. At least until the start of World War II, when hitchhiking became fashionable again. It is believed that this was a reaction to calls for Americans not to spend war time excess fuel. And besides, a man in military uniform could always catch a ride. So the thumbs up has returned to the sides of American roads.

In the 1950s, the active construction of expressways began in the United States. This again greatly reduced the number of hitch hikers (there is no place to vote on the autobahn). But not for long. The 60s and 70s came with their new youth movements, festivals and hitchhiker idols. Hitch hiking now has not only an economic justification, but also a romantic flair. Kerouac alone was worth it. Again, driving past such hitch-hikers was probably very difficult.

In the 1980s, the state again took charge of hitchhikers. It started with anti-propaganda in the media and ended with a natural ban at the legislative level. In addition, during that period the statistics on road accidents really jumped. This company has practically killed the romance of hitch hiking, and most importantly, it has radically changed the attitude of Americans themselves towards it.

And although today hitchhiking is prohibited in only a few states, standing on the roadway and interfering with traffic, even with a raised hand, is prohibited everywhere. However, this movement can no longer be erased from the cultural memory of the United States, and indeed the whole world. At least thanks to movies and songs.

I'm not even talking about.

Our new hero, a young Belarusian guy named Verasen, quit his job and went on a year-long journey from New York to Tierra del Fuego. One of its integral attributes was the stool as a symbol of post-Soviet countries and “kitchen” revolutions. He carried her with him and, even though a truck ran over her in Brazil, he took her to the ocean. We learned from the traveler what else happened in his overseas adventure.

Verasen

28 years old, geologist,
traveler, musician

The hardest thing about traveling is deciding to take it. There are always anchors that hold you. I never thought that I would go to America. There was a collective romantic image in my head: Andy Warhol, rock and roll, Woodstock, dangerous blacks. It turned out that everything is not so, and Mexicans and other Latinos are the most interesting people. In the Warsaw metro I met my future wife; at that time she lived in Kyiv and communicated with travelers. They were going to America, there was an art project by Ukrainian director Leni Kanter “With a stool to the ocean.”

He managed to travel to the Indian, Arctic and Atlantic Oceans, was now gathering company to go to Tikhoy. Everything was conceived as an art expedition: along the way, once a month, organize a festival in one of the cities. We prepared for the trip for about a year. They gave me a visa only the second time, and we flew to New York. Our budget for two was $1,200: we used it to get visas and buy two plane tickets, and upon arrival, a camera, lens, and netbook at a Jewish second-hand shop. The plan was this: make money and move on. In the end, it came out to about three thousand between us in a year, plus we wrote articles and somehow survived. When we flew out of South America, it was very expensive, and a lot of people chipped in for our ticket. We almost never paid for an overnight stay, but earned money by playing for people. Music is a very lifesaver; it is an absolutely universal survival tool. After all, you need a stranger to stop being afraid of you. And musicians with a guitar and violin rarely attack people. And if you cannot explain yourself through language, then you always have music.

USA - Chile


NUMBER OF COUNTRIES:

North America

The whole world is a big echo of New York. This is truly the capital of the world. You understand a lot there: it’s as if you were watching a movie and then got into it. In New York, thinking changes a lot; it was very difficult to leave it. We rented housing in a black neighborhood, and often on the way home from work I was the only white person in the subway car. You begin to think in terms of money. You arrive, and the next day you are already working. Every day you earn at least $100. It’s very difficult to imagine having a day off, because you don’t get paid for the weekend. Money flows constantly: tips are given everywhere. When you hitchhike, everyone thinks you're so fucking needy and they offer you money.

I remember sitting in a cafe with a hiking backpack, my grandmother came up and gave me ten dollars. She doesn't ask questions, she shoves money - so she talked. Money becomes the equivalent of everything, the cache under your pillow is constantly growing, and it’s difficult to escape from it all. My wife played the violin in Times Square, I worked in a restaurant and in construction. First in Brighton, in a restaurant that appeared in Brother 2. At that time I knew English at the level of “open new file”, “folder”, “delete”. And in most cases, he simply knew where to click. I got a job as a busboy. In theory, you are supposed to clean up the dishes, but in reality, you are doing a job that no one wants to do. Everything is clearly divided there: the hostess, the waiter who only takes the order, the runner who brings the order from the kitchen. Only the waiter receives tips. Everyone is dressed the same, visitors often called me over and asked me something about the dishes from the menu. I listened carefully, said “sure”, went to the kitchen and did not appear in the hall for some time.



Then he went to the Cherry Hill restaurant, which is run by an Azerbaijani Jew. Post-Soviet dudes have two topics of conversation: how little they pay and how much they don’t like everything. There I understood one of the laws of local work: you need to constantly do something. If you are constantly busy with something, no one will give you instructions - the person is already working, why bother him. I became friends with a Mexican, we exchanged jokes without words, and he taught me the basics of Spanish. Then he worked at a construction site until the skin peeled off his hands from the heat. I remember there I borrowed a car from one of the workers to go to Dunkin Donuts - I was driving 160 km/h, enjoying the sensations and driving into some woman’s car. I have no license, no money with me, she doesn’t speak English, only Spanish. I convinced her with my fingers to get behind the wheel of my car, drive to the construction site and take the money there. Everything turned out okay, but I was terribly worried.

In many places in the United States you cannot park on highways. Very often the state police brought us back to the city and warned: “One more time and you’ll go to jail.” We left New York for two days: first a taxi driver gave us a lift, then some guys asked us about the presence of weapons, and then showed us a bat and said that they would kill us if anything happened. The northern United States has the worst hitchhiking in the world; for them, it only exists in the movies. In fact, people are very afraid of everything, because they have legalized weapons. You sit down, they ask: “Do you have a gun?” You drive, talk about other topics, and they ask again if there really isn’t a gun. Some call to tell friends that they are carrying travelers. Others say that if something happens to us in their car, they can easily sue us.




It seemed to me that North America very identical. Washington is a crime-ridden black city, in which we naively began to look for an overnight stay in dangerous areas. You cannot pitch a tent. You need to ask permission to put it in the backyard. It's just that in many states they have the right to shoot you for illegally being on private property. In Washington we found a stern former paratrooper, the only white man on a black street. I played the guitar, my wife played the violin, he had already agreed to shelter us, but then an acquaintance answered us, with whom we could spend the night. All the people we met were very surprised that we were going to South America, and said: “They will kill you there, stay and live with us.”

Central and South America

We applied for a Mexican visa in Moscow, but when we arrived, it had already been canceled in the presence of an American one. The north of Mexico, where the border with the United States lies, is the most dangerous. The Aztecs live there, and the Mayans live in the south. The Aztecs are tall and look like those Mexicans in sombreros that we see in films, and the Mayans are all short and have very clear eyes. We learned the standard text in Spanish: “We are travelers, we need to spend the night.” You say this, and the guy looks you in the eyes and doesn’t ask anything. And then he nods his head and you have the best place for sleep and food. We passed through the most dangerous city world - Ciudad Juarez. There is a constant drug war going on there, military Hummers with machine guns are driving around. The first thing we saw upon arrival was a corpse lying at a public transport stop. Initially we thought to stay there for some time, but somehow we didn’t really want to die.






We were in Bolivia at the largest salt marsh in the world: we stopped the guy who works there. We drove for four days, first in an empty compartment, and then in one filled to the brim with salt. There are no roads, just directions. Somewhere near the salt marsh there is a ghost town where several salt farming families live. We slept on the floor, and there was salt underneath, it was very warm to sleep on. When you walk there, you get the feeling that you are walking on snow, only it is not slippery and tastes salty.




Traveling gives you a very important skill: you learn to find a common language with everyone. Even for bandits, it's cool to meet an interesting dude. You recognize criminals by their manner of conversation: in an animated tourist place You are a goal for them, but when you meet them at home, you cease to be one. They understand that you are not from the USA and look and speak differently. Generally in South America white is always gringo. The only places I haven't seen racism are in Brazil and Ecuador. Attitudes change when you start speaking Spanish, because North Americans don't do that. When traveling, you begin to mirror people, to mimic the environment in which you find yourself. It’s better to figure this out early.

Music helped us a lot. In Costa Rica, we even got a producer; the person who gave us a ride introduced us to him. We played in the coolest jazz club, earned 100 dollars per person in an evening, and it cost us 50 for a month in Central America. We went surfing there. In Honduras we were on the island of El Paco, where local fishermen and transvestites gathered. To local residents They showed a film about hitchhiking in Tibet, and somehow managed to find a projector. We performed live on Panama TV and accidentally met the director of a cargo airline. As a result, we flew to Colombia for free on cargo plane. The only other way to get there is through the Darian Gap - 90 kilometers of impenetrable jungle of drug trafficking and bandits, where you need to go with a machete if you want to try your luck.



In Colombia, we were met by a companion of a Panamanian friend and given us a house in the city center. Then he invited me to the dacha: a huge family mountain, a river and houses. There was a party there, we were already imagining mountains of Colombian cocaine. And the dudes tell us: “No, drugs are for the poor.” Such an upside down world. In South America, drugs are everywhere, they always offer you something. But there it is for those who work a lot. For example, in Mexico all truck drivers are on amphetamine, some smoke through a light bulb - we have met such people. Powder is poured into the base, set on fire, and the vapors are inhaled.

We were in Patagonia - the steppes where crazy winds blow. Drivers constantly steer in the direction from which the wind is blowing, because the wind can overturn the car. In southern Argentina, cities are located at least 200 kilometers from each other. Eat Railway, which was bought by the guys responsible for road freight transportation and simply turned off, now all cargo is transported only by trucks.


In general, while traveling, the density of life increases five times: remembering, I think that I dreamed everything. And we took the stool to Tierra del Fuego and left it there by the ocean. She constantly attracted attention, they tried to buy her from us, and in Brazil she was run over by a truck. The most remarkable thing is that it broke down in a place where they do woodworking, so we quickly fixed it.

When traveling you need to be light, we were constantly getting rid of things. A person doesn’t need much: in principle, you can get by with an iPhone and a charger. The main thing for traveling is desire. If you have it and you don’t dwell on problems, then everything will be a pleasure.

Looking ahead, I would like to admit honestly that hitchhiking in the USA is pretty bad. I can't say I have a ton of experience to compare it to, but from what I've had in the southern US, as well as from other freewheeling travelers, I can say that the US is not the best place to hitchhike.

In fact, the USA is considered the birthplace of hitchhiking, which in American English language called Hitch Hiking. Those. this term is of purely American origin and came into other languages ​​(for example, British English, etc.) from here. And the whole point is that the USA, among other things, is one of the most (if not the most) motorized countries in the world. After all, back in the 20s of the last century, during the production boom, conveyors for the production of cars were launched here, not as a piece product, but as a consumer product. Namely, it was Henry Ford - a crafty American businessman.

And if there are cars, then we need roads - large-scale construction of highways between American cities has begun. Those. not just primers, but hard coatings. Well, if there are many roads and many cars that travel along these roads, then there will also be those people who do not have a car, but need to move somewhere. This is where the hitchhiking began. People hitched rides and rode them about their business. A whole culture of Hitch Hiking appeared, which later spread to other parts of the world.

The peak of the popularity of hitchhiking in the United States came in the 60-70s, when, among other things, many hippies and various partygoers were traveling around the country in this way, carelessly driving around in all directions. Many of them are still alive and often stop for hitchhikers themselves. Due to the abundance of expressways (Interstates) connecting different states, hitchhiking has become quite problematic. Speed ​​limits on such highways are usually around 70-75 mph, i.e. about 120-130 km/h. It is very difficult for the driver to stop for a hitchhiker, sometimes he does not even have time to see him. Also, in some states such as New Jersey, Utah, Colorado and Idaho, hitchhiking is illegal. In other states it is only prohibited on expressways. In some states, such as Arizona, it is legal to ride in the back of a pickup truck.

My hitchhiking period started in the city Atlanta, Georgia, which I arrived on a Chinese bus from New York. That was my plan. Having previously stored maps of the city (images from Google Maps), I went to the highway Interstate-85. I passed through Atlanta, looked around the city a little, bought water at 2$ and went out onto the track.

Atlanta, Georgia

View of the city center

At first I tried to stop in the wrong place, after which I decided to walk a little to change my position, but literally after 5 minutes the car stopped. The driver, a white man, said, “Get in, let’s go.” I said that I needed to go south, somewhere there, towards Alabama. Interstate-85 heads southwest into the city Montgomery, Alabama. Where, in fact, I was moving. After Montgomery I planned to go to Interstate-65, leading to Mobile,Alabama, and therefore asked him to give me a lift before leaving the city, i.e. until 65th.

After spending time having a heart-to-heart conversation, he decided to give me a ride even further, along 65th, and, at the same time, pay for my hotel room. In the end he took me to Greenville, Alabama, there I paid for the room 69$ In a hotel Best Western , and also fed me dinner at a local fast food restaurant. Those. In total, except gas, he spent about 100 bucks on me - Southern Hospitality.

Greenville, Alabama


Driver


Best Western Hotel Room


Interstate 65, here I turn right

In Greenville, I slept well like a gentleman, washed myself and, having breakfast in the morning, drove on. I went out onto the highway and waited for about 30 minutes, after which the car stopped. The driver is an African American who was heading to Slidell, Louisiana. We had a long drive ahead of us through Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, after which he dropped me off at a trailer park. It was a rainy day and I couldn’t go any further, just like putting up a tent. I had to stay in the parking lot for truckers, in a specially equipped rest room. I spent the night there.

Going to Slidell, Louisiana

The next morning and the whole next day, a very difficult hitchhiking awaited me. I got to New Orleans, and quite quickly, but I still couldn’t get far from it. I walked through the entire city, tried to stop on the highway, after which a policeman put me in a car and drove me away from the highway. I came back again, but still couldn’t find a car.

New Orleans, Louisiana





The weather was normal at first, but then everything became cloudy and it started to rain. I stood in the rain in many places, for an average of 30-50 minutes, moving in numerous cars, but over a short distance. As a result, I changed many cars, but drove very little.

At the next position, after waiting for about 40-50 minutes, getting completely wet, I decided to go look for a warm place. I went to McDonald's and sat there drying out. Having dried a little, I saw that the rain had stopped. I decided to go wander around this town and ask the locals about getting registered (overnight). But I didn't find anything. The time was 16:00. I decided to go back to the position and stop the car until the victory, well, I don’t want to stay here in this hole.

The inscription on the sign: "Evacuation route in case of a hurricane"


Hitchhiking in the rain

I drew an inscription on a piece of cardboard Texas and with her he returned to his previous position. Luckily for me, after about 5-10 minutes an old pickup truck stopped. I didn’t even notice him, he honked at me for a long time, and I didn’t even expect the car to stop so quickly. Seeing him, like a tiger hunting for prey, with eyes wide open in surprise and joy, I ran to the driver.

The driver was a simple man of about 60 years old. An ordinary worker in a dirty old pickup truck. He says that he used to be a tramp for some time and slept under a bridge. A warm-hearted and understanding person, he treated me to a bottle of Sprite and gave me a lift to the next trailer park. He didn’t take me further into the city, because here I could quickly negotiate with the driver, instead of standing on the highway. It soon became dark, and I decided to try my luck to go to the highway at night. The position was excellent: under the lantern I was clearly visible. But, after waiting for 2 hours, I went back to the parking lot to get ready for bed. I thought that no one would stop, so I just stood there, fortunately it wasn’t raining.

Night hitchhiking in the USA

I spent the night on some bench inside the store. It is specially designed for recreation, but it is usually not customary to spend the night there, because tramps, as a rule, are not allowed in. But they allowed me to stay the night. At night a policeman came and spoke to me. I said that I was a traveler from Russia, and not a tramp at all.

The next morning, without waiting for dawn, I went to ask truck drivers if anyone was going to Texas. A long-range tractor with a truck in the USA is called Truck. About the 4th truck that pulled up to the gas station took me with it. It turned out to be a Russian-speaking guy from Moldova who has been living in the USA for a whole year. Since I also turned out to be a Russian-speaking traveler, and not at all a local drug-addicted tramp, my fellow ex-USSR countryman gladly sheltered me in the cabin of his truck.

Houston highways

It turned out that he was going all the way to San Antonio, whereas I wanted to at least get to Houston. We had a long journey ahead of us through Louisiana to Texas. We passed through cities like Baton Rouge, Lafayette, Beaumont, Houston. After which he threw me out at the next truck stop, so as not to bring me to San Antonio, where I would not have found a place to spend the night.

For every 50 gallons of diesel fuel collected, he is entitled to a free shower at this network of gas stations, which he kindly provided to me, while he went to unload. It was great to shower after long journey. In a vacant lot near the parking lot, I chose a place for a tent and went to bed in the evening. It was a wonderful night..

Cultural recreation in a tent in a Texas field

The next morning I started communicating with the drivers, of whom there were quite a few at the gas station. But no one picked me up. I asked a lot of drivers of both trucks and cars - no one goes to the side Laredo. After a long unsuccessful experience of communicating with drivers, a gas station employee approached me and said that I could not ask drivers on the territory of the gas station. Because they come here to relax, buy necessities, refuel, and do not want to communicate with vagabonds - this is the company’s policy. I later learned that all companies follow this policy, even Mexican ones.

The shadow of a lonely wanderer...

Long story short, I was back on the track. Again I stood in position for about 40 minutes - no one stopped. I changed my position and walked some distance. While I was walking, one car picked me up, albeit at a short distance. But that’s good too. Then again I went out onto the track, again stood with my arm outstretched and my thumb. Again someone stopped - and again I drove a couple of miles. For the third time, the car already dropped me before leaving San Antonio, on the road towards Laredo.

There again the same situation. I'd drive for a few miles with someone, then get out at a gas station and either wait for a new driver or chat with the truck drivers. But, as a rule, it is unsuccessful. But, in fact, it was just bad luck. Some really didn’t go to Laredo, some in the other direction, some are not allowed by the company to take travel companions, some are simply afraid. Someone fed me hot dogs, someone else gave me change, and finally, after a long wait, I found a truck that picked me up all the way to Laredo.

Sunny Texas


Let's go to Laredo


Mexican checkpoint, Laredo


Border with Mexico

This was a guy who looked young, but he was already 52. ​​With him was his African American girlfriend, with whom he cheated on his wife. He took me all the way to Laredo, where I continued on my way to the Mexican border. I didn’t walk, but asked one guy to give me a lift along the way towards the checkpoint with Mexico, i.e. in a southerly direction. Next, I still had to walk, although quite a bit.

Americans do not put an exit stamp at the exit, and when crossing the border you will only see Mexican border guards. Those. The receiving party is responsible for entry. Mexicans have similar rules. You can safely leave the territory of the United States, but at the entrance you will be greeted by control.

The border between Texas and the Mexican state of Tamaulipas runs along the Rio Bravo River, across which bridges are built. Very convenient border crossings, through which many Mexicans and citizens of other countries pass through Central America. Next, my path lay in Mexico, where it ended, however, at that moment I did not know this yet, and thought that I would reach Panama. After Mexico, I got out in Arizona, but read on about that.

Hello, my name is Irene and I'm from Russia. This is how I’ve been introducing myself for a month and ten days now, because I’m in big trip across the USA. For a very long time I dreamed of hitchhiking across America, a friend was given a visa, but was not given leave from work, and I could not refuse an idea that had already settled in my head and acquired details)))
So, I’m traveling alone for my own pleasure through the southeast of America, stopping in cities and states that interest me. I meet amazing people. I'm discovering new places. I smile endlessly and catch myself thinking that the “on the road” state is my favorite.

I'll show you one day of my hitchhiking - April 10, 2012. Route - Tallahassee (Florida) - New Orleans (Louisiana).

Photos (30 pieces) were taken on a phone, because... report from the wheels.

I stay overnight using the couch surfing system, which means I always wake up in different places without having time to get used to the city and people. I train willpower)))


In Tallahassee, I was hosted by local college students. The house is huge, has its own room and guest toilet.

The owner, Chris, feeds you instant corn hominy (which is not typical for Americans at all) and charges you with coffee.


It is important to have a hearty breakfast, because it is not known when the next time you will have to eat))) Chris is a good guy (although I have not met any bad guys here), sweet and very caring, like a mother))) He takes me to the highway, wishes me good luck and the traditional " take care"))

The city of Tallahassee was my personal scale, even before the trip. I'll explain why. Trying to understand the situation with hitchhiking in America when planning a trip, I scoured the Internet for rare reports about similar experiences and came across a LJ of a boy with the nickname zuboder. He wanted to hitchhike from Florida to California, but got stuck in Tallahassee for two days, turned around and went in the opposite direction, ending in New York.
Of course, I definitely had to once again prove the theory that everything is purely individual and there cannot be a common denominator here.

I stood at the first exit after Tallahassee for about four minutes, thinking - why waste time at this point, past which several cars traditionally pass per hour. I went to the interstate, where a convenient “emergency lane” makes it possible to park in emergency parking for those who are not afraid of hitch high-roads.

It has already become a tradition that a long-haul truck takes me out of the city. Joe, I think. My whole brain was eaten up by the fact that this is dangerous, that there are a lot of crazy people, that different things happen.

I asked to tell a real bad story, he couldn’t and agreed that he didn’t know such people, or rather, that he knew about them purely hypothetically, in the “but my friend had a case...” mode - no.

Dropped the big nigga off at the Marianna exit, next to another hitchhiker. True hitchhiker, with a backpack, a sign, a wise beard.

The man was very happy to see me on the road and said that he had been stopping here for the second day in a row and that no one was picking it up. He says you can go to another point, but for me you are a chance to leave. I, of course, said that we would stop together and promised that someone would stop in the very near future))) Jeff and I went to the highway, from which the policeman asked him to “leave” yesterday.

Drivers are really worse at picking up two people, we wait for “the whole” 25 minutes!))) While I lure the drivers, as they say, “with live bait” and the textbook “west” sign, Jeff tells his story. 56 years old, four children and 6 grandchildren, travels around the states, earns money here and there. He told me his scheme - he comes to a truckers’ parking lot, rubs them on cars (shiny surfaces on the trucks), cleans the inside, etc. From one truck you can “remove” up to $150 for “full cleaning”, spending 15 bucks on cleaning products. This is how Jeff earns money and travels at the same time.

A good guy, he reveals to me some secrets of American hitchhiking, for example, how to identify truckers who will never stop - it is prohibited by insurance, that the “motorhomes” that I dream of driving never pick up hitchhikers, that...

Suddenly, mid-sentence, Jeff looks around and interrupts the story - a multi-colored truck has stopped in the distance, but is not visible to our souls or has broken down. We go to check, three people meet us - a man with an iron leg, a short-haired guy in Hawaiian shorts and a beauty.

It turns out that the guy is Russian, the truck is a mobile circus house, bicycles and water scooters are hanging in the trailer in the back, the direction is ours, the end point is Mexico. A man with a leg is riding in an escort car from behind.

We are divided along national lines - Jeff sits down with the American, I climb into the cabin with Anton.

Anton Alferov is a Russian acrobat from the Moscow circus, with American citizenship and a Gitis education, who left his career as a mosquito jumper at Cirque du Soleil to revive the family theater on wheels. The circus Moliere bought a trailer, trampolines, scaffolding, built a stage on the roof, covered everything in a bright film, found a faithful pirate and a Mexican model, came up with a show and goes to Acapulco to begin his triumphant procession from there. so far this is only a project a stone's throw from the launch, but we will see its extreme cirque at the opening of the Olympics in Sochi and at the Oscars events.

That's it in short. In general, the story began in 2003, when Anton was invited to work in America for six months as part of the troupe of Russian acrobats of the Moscow City Circus. Anton liked “working as penguins”; after the Russian 6,000 rubles a month and the sale of balloons during intermission, the American amusement park Sea World seemed like the ultimate dream. Anton hung out with the penguins in Orlando for 5 years, renewing his contract every year, along with the rest of the circus performers from Moscow. He staged his program at Sea World, having worked not only in free jumping (he has been doing acrobatics since he was five years old, and a master of sports since he was fourteen), but also as a show director. “Is it in vain that I studied this at GITIS, on Nemchinsky’s course, Peskov defended his diploma with me,” says Anton.

I find out that he is the second acrobat in the world who can do a trick in a jump from 6 meters and return back to the wall. Therefore, at the Cirque du Soleil workshop, they naturally signed a contract with him, choosing between applicants: a gymnast, a dancer, a climber, a trampoline player and another sports acrobat. The Americans were putting together a new Ovo program about insects, and Anton got the role of a mosquito who jumped from the wall onto a trampoline and did tricks on jumping stilts.

The program was created jointly over the course of 8 months, tested on audiences in Montreal, Toronto, and Quebec for three months, and in April 2009 the official premiere took place. Anton came up with a project - shooting a film about the backstage of the Cirque Du Soleil, even uploaded a promotional video on kickstarter)))

In January 2012, Anton did not renew his contract, although he says that every week he receives letters from the circus asking him to go on tour, at least for part-time. Instead, I decided to travel in a motorhome.

In two months, Anton “filled” the circus truck house to the brim: he took his design from Miniapolis - the world’s largest mobile transforming wall for spectacular jumps, bought speakers with stadium sound power, a trampoline net, a couple of jet skis, banjo jumping, about 40 costumes for the show, scenery, cotton candy and popcorn machines, hookahs and other joys of circus life.

The used trailer has also changed beyond recognition - Anton himself made the scene on the roof (according to all theatrical standards), came up with the design of the body wrap, installed solar panels, launched the project website, found investors and a partner in Mexico.

Alferov plans to take his pirate program and traveling circus theater around American and Mexican cities and towns, perform at special events such as the Oscar ceremony, and is confident that his trailer will welcome the 2014 Olympics in Sochi.

I caught Anton just on the way to new life. A week ago he met his “first pirate” - David, a homeless man who had been released from prison a few days ago and was asking for money for a ticket to his parents’ house. After this meeting, David’s life changed 360 degrees, Anton gave him a phone, a car and time to be with his mother and complete all the documents. They parted in front of me, with the words: “When you come to Acapulco, you will see my truck on the beach.”

These 7 hours of my life (and 370 miles) flew by so quickly that we even drove a little further than we should have. We parted as friends and I’m seriously thinking about accepting a job offer to promote this idea and going to Mexico. Because I’m sure that Anton will succeed, because such guys always achieve what they set out to do. And they have a good heart.


During these hours, in addition to Russian seeds, Anton and I ate vegetables/fruits and all sorts of nice snacks, I - instead of lunch, he - so as not to fall asleep)))

A man in a Mercedes named Steve drove me to New Orleans. An Englishman, he has lived here for 16 years and only misses English beer.

Orleans really doesn't look like an American city - it's a mix European France and English London, but with an inexplicable hippie touch, similar to a hooligan act at an organ music concert.

At the entrance to the city of music - the consequences of Hurricane Katrina: fallen trees, sparse buildings, parks and the absence of multi-storey buildings. Steve says there's a silver lining to what's happened - it used to be a hell of a shopping suburb.

Steve takes me straight to the house of my next couch surfer, David, but he texts me back to say he'll pick me up later. I wave to Steve (these are the kind of New Orleanians who buy hats and antiques, in between jazz concerts and meditation) and drink tea with the Internet at Viet Café, right across from the tram stop - a separate pride of the city. I bought 3 for change lottery tickets for a buck, I won my 3 dollars back, luck never ceases to smile on me, and not only on the roads.

Walking around the city in the evening, I soak in its atmosphere and understand that such places require at least 4-5 days.

David is nice, but I’m too tired and “too much” of emotions for today, so I take a shower, drink tea and get ready to sleep.

A! I also torture David with my favorite task - to draw a map with the main “must-si” of New Orleans, in his opinion. David is very reluctant, but as a result he literally copies the map from Google Maps, signs his recommendations and I go to bed.

I still have 3 weeks of travel ahead and my body is a little tired from a very eventful adventure, with constant roads, meetings, new experiences, crazy adventures and every minute discoveries. So - Good night to me, and good morning to all of you!

 

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