Saturday, October 16, 2010


Just imagine you begin a hitch-hiking trip like no other, the trip you have been dreaming of for years and the firs truck you get a ride with is called "Dream". That happened to aura and me last week, when we left San Nicolás, a city that had been our headquarters for four months while prepearing this Argentina to Greenland hitch-hiking trip. IN the picture you can see the IVECO truck in which rear you can read "Transporte El Sueño"....

Dropping by Mar del Plata to see my family. We are not meant to come back fo a couple of years. So in the picture my parents, Laura, me and "La Maga", my backpack. Grab a Spanish dictionary and access its wonderful meaning....

Necochea is 125 km away, and we reach it in the elegant 1975 Chevrolet, property a Guillermo Petersen, Sport Secretary of Necochea, who also took us to his home to drink some mate.

IN Necochea we stayed overnight at Juan Carlos's place. Juan Carlos is a reader who once bought my book at the Ma del Plata Book Fair. We have become friends ever since. He is crazy enough to ride a tall bike, and practices a finnancial ascetism. If you want money, you just need to ask te universe.

Waiting for a ride at a gas station. We carry wit us a world map, with the previous and present trips marked on it, so as to convey a sense of trust to our drivers. IN tha map you can see a newspaper articel about us attached.

After a fast ride in a Fiat Punto from Necochea to Punta Alta we had to take a short bus ride to Bahía Blanca. The bus company's name was my surname (Villarino). If I am to take a bus, I expect the company to pay me some homage...

Meeting readers at Bahía Blanca. Raul, Nilda and Gladys showed up to buy some books and postacards, giving us cmore power to continue our quest.

Travelling south in Route 3, we got to Villalonga town, where it got dark. We someow got to talk with José, who was parking his large Scania. He was waiting orders to load his truck but instructions never came and he had to stay overnight as well. He had a big truck but was alone. We had no more than our smiles and conversation to offer, but had nowhere to go. So eventually he invited us to drink some mate in the cabin. We talked there for hours, listening to amazing stories. Truck drivers really have blues-like stories. José's ife was a never ending road, wchi from time to time included brief stopovers at his home to see his family, and then back to the road. That night, the Scania protected us from the wind, in a motherly attitude.

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