Monday morning I left, and my friends dropped me off at a bus stop on the road to Ylkaviesa, a town 28 kilometers away, where I waited with my cardboard sign and my thumb. After a while, I decided to walk and began to sing, inspired by the many car that passed by, ignoring my sign, and the one car that slowed down yet sped away when I walked towards him. I got a lift from an older couple, but ended up in the same situation, 28 kilometer down the road. At a roundabout I waited, and went to the gas station. There was a man who said he could take me to Oulu, and that I had to wait 20 minutes because he would go into town first. He did not come back. In English I think they call it being screwed. The interesting thing was that he was able to be so immoral to me only because his wife – the evil genius – had urged him to do so. And she remained invisible behind the toned car glass. The man only needed to say the words “you wait 20 minutes”, he didn’t feel he was accountable for the vile intention that came with those words. Anyway, I had caught inspiration for a story about a lifter that stayed endlessly without being picked up and survived just because he believed so strongly in humanity and also these lines were created and initially hummed (later yelled) alongside that road in mid Finland:
High on his truck
and he never takes a hitcher (sound of passing truck – real)
Mr. McCormack High on his truck and he never gives a f**k
But would he have taken
this one hitcher
yes he would have run into Lucky McHotten (sound of passing car – real)
and he would have gotten
so much richer
Two Hungarian interpreters brought me to Raahe. Thank you, guys. A young woman finally took me from Raahe to Oulu and even gave me a glass of juice in her apartment. Thank you, Sanna! We said goodbye at a gas station in Oulu, where I soon had my next remarkable experience …
|The truth about the Motorcycle Diaries
Yes, I know… you won’t believe it… the man who saw me at a small gas station in Oulu and offered me a coffee as I told him I was hitchhiking north, did look like John Lennon when he was younger – when he was much younger, than what had remained was a loudly belching TV addicted heavy drinker who pulled out his front teeth in order to take a more comfortable sip from his Finnish Karnu-beer. But he was really kind. I really enjoyed being at his place – Thanks, Tuomo! I slept well on an old mattress on the kitchen floor.
So my senses for the Amazing Coincidences were tickled… and in marched his brother who looked like Che Guevara on the photographs they showed me. It was so cool, hanging out with those two men in their mid-fifties and laugh together about two of the greatest men of the twentieth-century (okay, they are my personal favorites). I made some quick shots of the black and white photographs and you can see the result here. By the way, there has been an encounter between Lennon and Guevara, you can read about it here.