From a rabbi to Robert Kubicka: A hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy (well, Spain, France, Switzerland and Poland) Part Four: Somewhere in France to somewhere else in France, but this time near Switzerland

Rain

The English. That was the first surprise I encountered. But not the jolly, friendly English. No. The middle class, pompous, bigoted 'we've hired a people carrier in southern France' kind of English.

Mind you, I was finding it hard to disguise my hidden agenda.

Anyway, once they were swiftly encountered I moved onto my next target. A French lady who was stood at the bar in the cafeteria. Sadly, pleasant though she was, she was heading in the wrong direction, towards Bordeaux. Tempting though it was to turn round and give up on my adventure to return home, I declined her offer of a lift.

Moreover, my luck was just about to take a turn for the better.

Just outside the cafeteria and near the exit of the gas station, a driver-by asked me: "Where are you off to?"

"Lyon," I responded, though I wanted to go further. In fact, for a joke, I wanted to say Warsaw but then maybe my abstract sense of humour might be lost on the French. Actually, it tends to be lost on the English too. So much so that I am beginning to doubt whether I have a sense of humour at all.

No matter.

Rain

"And where are you off to?" I continued.

"Lyon," came the welcome response. "Let's go," the driver said in near perfect English.

The next few hours flew by (slight exaggeration) in the midst of a conversation about linguistics in which I was largely out of my depth. Nevermind. I bluffed my way through it.

He (I can't remember his name, probably Pierre) dropped me off at a petrol station just the other side of Lyon and I awaited my next stroke of luck.

And yet more rain

There was free internet so I used and abused this service until just after 8 o'clock when the station closed. I was soon on my way again when another man took me further in the direction of Geneva. He had just dropped off his daughter who was returning to university. That is all I can remember from the one hour journey, apart from the fact that the spitting rain turned into an avalanche of rain.

Now I guess you are wondering, if you are still with me at this point, where the rabbi and Robert Kubicka come into play. Well, you will have to read the next excerpt. Oh, what a tease.

From a rabbi to Robert Kubicka: A hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy (well, Spain, France, Switzerland and Poland) Part Three: Somewhere in France to somewhere else in France

Hitchhiking: a BMW 4x4 without a latte or a chubby guy

Once again I didn't have to wait long. A young lady picked me up after a five minute wait and I was on my way once more. These toll booths were proving to be a resounding success.

The French woman (I can't remember where she was from) took me about 50 kms (I can't remember exactly how far) to a place that I can't remember.

It was on a road in southern France if that helps. Anyway, it wasn't a toll booth. And there were a lot of Renaults and Peugeots about. The next vehicle to take me on my journey was a 4x4 BMW and I went half hour down the road to the next péage (toll booth in French, I'm struggling for synonyms).

The guy was both chubby and moody. And he had a latte on the go. A bit cliché, I know, but I was in France ya know and he wasn't wearing a hooped jersey, wearing a beret eating snails.

After him this memorable experience I got picked up by a couple in their fifties who spoke good English and were former hitchhikers themselves. They told me about their own tales and they had great empathy with my plight. The only thing missing from our conversation was a campfire but this wouldn't have been practical in the back of a Renault Clio so we decided against it.

They took me to a gas station where I was in for a big surprise. I bet you can't wait to find out...