Running from Life - 4. Chapter 4: I am alive!

Daniel drops me off at a gas station and it only takes me twenty minutes to find another ride. It’s a dude who looks a little bit shady, but I don’t necessarily feel unsafe. He drives a pickup truck and I guess he’s middle eastern. I’m uncertain as to whether I want to be with him in a car, but he says he’s going to Hamburg, so it would be great to tag along. I don’t want him to see my doubt,, so I get into the car. This time I make sure to leave my bag outside until I’m in the car myself. I also keep the bag on my lap.

“Hey, I’m Siddiq.”

“Matt.” I shake his hand. Weird, isn’t it. I used my real name before, but this time I decide to use Matt. Is that a racist thing to do? It’s not really his middle eastern look that makes me think he’s shady. He’s just… you know… he didn’t shave, his car smells a bit weird, and it’s messy.

“You’re hitchhiking, huh? Is it fun?”

“Yes. You’re only my second ride, but I’ve enjoyed it so far.”

“Isn’t it dangerous? You never know whose car you get in.”

I take my phone out of my pocket. “I’m sharing my GPS location with my parents right, now,” I lie. “I don’t think anything bad can happen.”

“That’s smart. And you’re going to Hamburg?”

“Not necessarily. Just traveling around a bit.”

“Hamburg is fun. Where are you going to sleep? On the streets?” He laughs.

Again I point towards my phone. “There is a site where people offer their couch to travellers. It’s free. I think I’m going to try to find a place to stay on there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to send some messages now, to people on the website?”

“No of course, go on.”

I almost sigh with relief as I don’t feel like talking to him. Slowly, I scroll through the different profiles on the website. There are literally thousands of them. This website is huge! Almost 45,000 hosts in Hamburg alone. I filter using some tags, like gaming and cooking, and write a very simple message, explaining why I would want to stay with them. According to some profiles I read, you’re supposed to focus on culture a lot. You’re couchsurfing to get to know a culture well, instead of staying in a hotel. You’re not doing it for free accomodation! Well, that’s the theory, anyway.

I notice I’m checking out profile pictures a lot. Mainly guys, of course. I know it’s not a dating site, but wouldn’t it be nice to sleep at a cute guy’s home?

It takes me around thirty minutes to send the messages. I think I asked forty people, so I bet one of them will check the website before tonight.

“Done?” Siddiq asks.

“Yes. I sent like forty messages, so let’s hope I get a place to stay.” I smile as I put away the phone. I’m looking at the road, especially at the signs. I silently swear to myself for not looking at them more regularly. I was really distracted looking for hosts, my driver could’ve gone anywhere, without me even noticing! I need to get used to this whole hitchhiking thing.

“What will you do if you don’t get a place to stay?”

“I’ll go to a hotel,” I laugh. “I’m really not going to sleep on the street!”

Siddiq laughs as well. “Do you have money for that, then? You’re hitchhiking because it’s free, right? You’re still a student, I bet.”

“Yes. Well, I worked a lot last year, so I would be able to afford a hotel for one night, but I’d rather not, of course.”

Siddiq switches lanes and I have to admit, I’m happy about that. I’m not really able to watch the speedometer, but I’m sure he was driving way too fast. Now he finally slows down a bit. “Do you have a car?”

“No, I don’t even have a driver’s license. I’m only sixteen, you know?”

He laughs too. “Me neither. Are you only sixteen, I guessed you were older.”

“What do you mean, me neither?”

“My driver’s license was taken away from me a few weeks ago.” I guess he saw the confusion on my face, because he adds: “That doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t know how to drive.”

“Yeah… I know…”

“So, where are you from?” he changes the subject.

“The Netherlands.”

“Oh nice. Do you have any weed with you?”

I have to keep from rolling my eyes. I knew he was gonna ask that. Literally everyone does. “No. For me it’s just as illegal to have it with me here in Germany as it is for you. Where are you from?”

“Afghanistan. A city called Kandahar. Do you know it?”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s the city Osama Bin Laden fled to when the Americans tried to kill him. I even saw him a few times, you know?”

I don’t know what to reply, so I keep my mouth shut.

“The Americans lied, did you know that? You could’ve expected it, of course, but did you really know it? They didn’t kill Osama at all. They wouldn’t dare to, we would’ve protected him. No, he died a natural death a few years after they supposedly killed him. They just wanted peace and they didn’t know another way to get it. Osama was a really good person. Your media just made you believe he wasn't.”

Okay. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable now. What can you say when someone starts talking like that? I need another subject. Right now!

“You really don’t want to go hitchhiking in Afghanistan, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“You’re white. If you’re on any road outside the cities, you’ll be stopped by someone. They will ask you to rephrase a full chapter of the Qur’an. If you can’t, you’ll be shot. Right through the head. I bet you wouldn’t even feel it.”

Is he testing me? Is this a joke? I really want to get out of this car, but that could make things worse. Needless to say, the next hour is pretty uncomfortable and when the signs starts mentioning Hamburg, it feels wonderful. It’s only thirty more kilometres and then I can say goodbye and get out.

Or not. Siddiq suddenly takes the next exit. Quickly, I take note of the signs next to the exit. Rosengarten, it says. According to my Google Maps that’s close to Hamburg, but still thirty minutes away from the city. He said he was going to Hamburg, right? Why would he take a turn here? I try not to panic, he must have a good explanation. Maybe he is trying to avoid a traffic jam?

No, that makes no sense.

Asking him about it could be a solution, but maybe he would consider it an insult? I can’t just question him, can I? I look around, as if the roads could give me an answer.

“Why… I thought we were going to Hamburg?”

“We are.” Still no wicked smile: everything is alright. He makes a turn right, another right and we are getting further away from the big roads with every second that ticks away. This can’t be right. Wicked smile or no wicked smile, I’m scared. Then we stop. He opens his window and the car next to us does the same. There is a woman in that car. I guess she’s in her twenties. Siddiq starts chatting with her in German. I try to understand what he says, but I can't. Even though I speak some German, they are talking way too fast and in a weird dialect.

He gets out of the car, so I do the same, but I make sure to get my bag out first. There are other people on the parking lot, so I feel a little less in danger.

“I have to switch cars. Wait here.” He gets back in the car, closes the door and… drives off! He just drives away. I’m in the middle of nowhere, in some parking lot in a neighbourhood I wouldn’t want to live in, and that means a lot coming from a kid who considers living as a vagabond for the rest of his life. I look at the woman in the car, she is still there. Should I ask her what’s happening? No, she didn’t look at me at all. She totally acts as if I’m not here.

I’m starting to sweat and that’s not because of the sun. I can just leave, right? Maybe there aren’t many cars here, but I bet I can just walk to a bigger road and find another ride. Or is this girl here to keep me here? I can handle her, I’m sure of it. Right then another man walks onto the parking lot. A man with an Afghan look as well. He could pass as a brother of Siddiq. He quickly glances in my direction, enough to acknowledge my existence, but doesn’t walk our way. Instead he buys something at a weird stand on the other side of the lot.

Well, if he is here to keep me from wandering off, I’m pretty much fucked. No way I can handle him.

If I start screaming, I’m sure someone here could help me? There are enough people here and I think I can be sure they’re not all part of this conspiracy? It’s already been ten minutes since Siddiq left and I’m still here, wondering if I’m in danger or not. And yet, I don’t leave. Am I stupid?

A car pulls up in front of me and Siddiq gets out. He smiles at me. I glance at the license plate and try to memorize it. The girl gets out of her car and I pick up my bag, wondering what’s next. My driver hands over his keys to the young woman, she takes the car and drives away. This all happens whilst I’m slowly losing my mind. He must be testing me. I should just ask him what’s going on, but instead I just assume we will get into the woman’s car. Maybe she is his ex and they share the cars? This could’ve been their weekly car exchange.

Making certain no one can see, I take a picture of the license plate of the car that’s left here. I almost walk up to the car and get in, but I notice Siddiq isn’t going to the car. He walks away, so hesitantly I follow him. It’s getting stranger by the minute. I notice the other Afghan guy walking towards us. He hugs my driver real quick, they talk a little bit, and then he shakes my hand. “You’re going to Hamburg?”

I nod.

“Well then, get in!” He points towards a car that… lets say, it would surprise me if it still worked.

Wait, is he going to be my next driver? What the hell is going on? To my surprise Siddiq gets into the car as well. I slowly open the door and sit behind the driver’s seat. No one says a thing. My new driver puts on some weird music, which I assume is Afghan. We drive away, leaving the car I photographed behind. So much for keeping everything safe.

No one is talking, the music is way too loud. This is by far the most awkward drive I ever experienced. But, exactly thirty minutes later, my new driver stops the car next to a busy road. He points towards the big buildings in the distance and happily exclaims: “Hamburg!”

“Great!”

“Did you enjoy the ride?” Siddiq asks.

‘Lying is my middle name.’. “Yes, it was great. Thank you both so much!”

“No problem. Good luck finding a place to sleep.”

I exit the car and watch them drive away. Wow, I’m still alive! It takes me a few minutes to start walking again. I was so scared in the car, that I didn’t see I got a reply on the couchsurfing website. Apparently, I just got myself a place to stay tonight! It’s only four o’clock and the woman who is able to host me, won’t be home until six. Enough time to explore this beautiful city. Having visited Hamburg before, I know straight away where to go to. The Alster Lakes. I can be there in time to enjoy the late afternoon sun.

A few hours later I get a message from Lisa, my host. She tells me she’ll pick me up if I’m close to the train station. As a matter of fact I was only thirty minutes walk away. So, she picks me up, shows me around her house, and even wants to make me dinner. We have an amazing night, spent talking and laughing. I never expected couchsurfing to be such fun.

The next day I left her a great reference.

The sun is shining, even though it’s only eight o’clock in the morning. I tilt my head upwards to let the warm rays hit my face directly, which automatically makes me smile. I’m literally in the middle of a foreign city, at least four and a half hours away from home. It feels like freedom, but at the same time it doesn't. It’s hard to describe, but sleeping and traveling for free, feels like freedom. Money is not going to stop me, even though it wouldn’t have anyway, still it would’ve kept me from feeling this free if it all cost money. Yet, I’m depending on others. I need their couch to sleep on, I need them to drive me around. If I get sick here, I would be on my own. It’s the dilemma of the adventurer.

That’s going to be my next blog post! You see, I knew travelling would give me inspiration for the blog.

So, what can I do next? I can stay another night in Hamburg, maybe Lisa would want to host me for another night? It’s a nice city, but I’ve been here before. Maybe it’d be nice to visit the sea? Lübeck isn’t too far away from here. I used to play a strategy game when I was younger and I always played the country that was in control of Lübeck, it could be fun to visit the city. It’s only an hour away from here, but maybe that’s not the most interesting hitchhike. I sit on a bench at the side of a road, happy to put my backpack down next to me. My back is sweating already, and it’s still morning. Google Maps could offer some clarity about what my new destination should be. I open the app.

Berlin could be interesting? Or is that too big, maybe not a nice destination to go to for only one night. I could head to Poland, instead?

Yes! Let’s do that.

It takes me twenty minutes to find a good road that leaves the city, another thirty minutes to get a ride. It’s not a long one, just to outside the city. A young guy, around twenty years old I guess, drops me off at a big petrol station just outside of Hamburg. Big petrol stations are really easy to get a ride from, as I discover when I get a new ride only fifteen minutes later.

“Where are you going?” I pull my backpack onto my lap.

Another young guy, maybe only a year or two older than I am, looks at me and shakes my hand. “Hey, I’m Kevin.”

“Adam.”

“I’m going to Wolgast. Do you know it?”

I shake my head.

“It’s a small city, close to the Ostsee. Your sign says you’re going to Poland?”

“Not necessarily. Just in that direction.” I grab my piece of cardboard, on which I had taped a piece of paper Poland written on it.

“Well, the city isn’t big, but it’s near the sea. There is this… how is it called in English. Peninsula? Well, in German we call it a Landzunge.”

“Ah, I get it, I think. You’re saying it’s worth staying there?”

“It really is. If you don’t know where to go, this could be a good goal. It’s not particularly a tourist destination, but a nice place, nonetheless. It brings you closer to the Polish border.”

“Then Wolfgas it is!”

Kevin laughs. “Wolgast,” he corrects me.

After a few minutes of looking around and pressing random buttons on my phone I ask: “Why are you going there? Do you live there?”

He smiles, but this isn’t a happy smile, it’s a sad one. “I used to. Only my parents and grandparents live there now. When I was younger, I visited my grandparents almost every day. Then I got older and grew an interest towards other things, of course, so I didn’t go there often anymore. Now my grandmother is sick, very sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a natural thing. She really was someone I considered to be my best friend when I was around ten years old. I used to go there that much, because she was the only one I could really talk to.”

“What did you talk about?”

“One of the topics I can still clearly recall was death. I used to tell her I was so scared I couldn’t sleep. Instead of telling me it was okay, like everyone else did, she told me she was scared too. She also told me she believed that when you got older, it wouldn’t be an issue anymore. If you’re nearing the end, you’d be at peace with it, she said. Then she got sick, but she was still healthy mentally. I wanted to ask her if she felt at peace, now she was close to death herself, but I was too scared. It felt like that question would be too difficult.”

“I can only guess, yes.”

“I stood by her as she got worse, until her mental state diminished too. Now she doesn’t understand most of what happens around her, and even if she does, she can’t end a sentence without forgetting what it was about. She has three months to live, according to the doctors.”

“Oh,” I don’t know what to say.

“I think this is my biggest regret in life. Not asking her how she felt about death. That conversation has been such a big part of my life and now I can’t finish it. I can’t close it.”

“Even though I can’t possibly know how you feel, I do know what regret is. I feel sorry for you, man.” And with that, my mind wanders off to my previous life and to my regrets. Memories I tried to hide as best as possible start floating back again, filling me with shame and regret. I think about Codey, how I used not only our friendship to get closer to my dad, but I used him physically and emotionally. I went to bed with him when he was a broken and fragile boy. Okay, maybe I helped him in that period, but I can’t use that to justify my actions. Yuri made me happy at first too, but the pain he caused in the end was worse. That’s what I will do to Codey once he finds out I’m gone, once he finds out I lied to him and used him. First he lost his dad, then he pretty much lost his best friend and now he’ll lose me too. The memories fill me with shame, even though I always try to look as if I have no emotions.

I think about my mom. She is going to be devastated when she finds the note, or maybe she is already, if she has found it. She will blame herself, but she’d have to stay strong for Tyde, who is probably going to think dad’s responsible. Then there is Sam, I’m not sure how she’ll react, but I’m sure she’s not going to be happy either.

There is Seth, he likes me. I like him. He’s been talking to the blogger, which is me. I lied to him. I kissed him, and I left him confused. He is blaming himself, and I don’t know what’ll happen when he discovers I ran away.

And here I am, in a stranger’s car, close to the Polish border, with a driver who talks about regret. I can’t make it right anymore. I can’t go back now and act as if nothing happened. No, I fucked up and now I’m stuck here. Don’t get me wrong, I have probably more freedom than most people, I can go anywhere on this planet. Anywhere… but home. I can’t go home.

“I’m sorry, I should never have said this. It’s not hitchhiker material.” Kevin laughs awkwardly.

“Oh no, it’s not that. It just made me think about my own life. That’s not a bad thing, I like thinking.”

“Care to share your story?”

“There isn’t much to share. I fucked up. My dad left me and my family when I was young, I tried to look for him. I befriended his new step-son only to get closer to him. Then there was all the other teen drama, you know. Kissing someone’s girlfriend, break-ups and so on. An endless list of fuckups.”

“Isn’t that part of growing up. Woah, I sound old now, but I guess I’m only like two years older?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Oh, then it’s three years. I’m nineteen.”

“Ah, okay. And yes, it is part of growing up, to a certain degree. But I felt like I fucked up too much. That’s why I left.”

Kevin looks at me with a questioning look. “You’re not just on vacation, you’re planning on never returning home?”

“Kinda.”

“That means I’m helping you run away from home.”

For a moment I fear he might not be happy with this and perhaps wants to… I don’t know, turn me in? But then he laughs. I relax again.

“Don’t worry. When I was your age I wanted to do that too. I was too scared to really run away, but luckily school was pretty easy for me, so at seventeen I went on to university. I lived on my own when I was only a year younger than you are now. If that hadn’t happened, chances were, I would have ran away too.”

“Why did you want to run?”

“I guess for the same reasons as you. I was done with everything, I just wanted to start a new life, you know? Get rid of my childhood drama and start all over again, in a new place.”

“Finding a new river,” I mumble.

“Exactly! I think the Anonymous Blogger wrote that because in the end, almost everyone has that feeling, or something similar to it. Is he the reason you decided to leave home?”

“Yes,” I say and I realise that’s not completely a lie.