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Day 07. Maribor - Lendava - Budapest

Pan-European Voyage


I woke up just in time, that is, at 10 am. I had already seen Maribor in the afternoon two days earlier and at night the previous day. Maribor in the morning was just as attractive as ever.


When I came at the meeting spot, Zdenka was not there. I examined the timetables and found out that there was a cheap train to Bratislava that had left at 10.50, which made me sure that Zdenka had already left for Slovakia (she didn't want to go to Hungary). By the way, there is free wi-fi outside the train station. Then I walked some 6 km to the north until I found myself in a settlement called Pesnica pri Mariboru, where lies the motorway to Hungary. I got a ride of some 40 km instantly. The driver had learnt some Croatian at school, but he didn't really master it, so we ended up speaking a kind of a Slovene-Croatian pidgin, which was fun. He let me out at a petrol station close to the town of Sveti Jurij. I decided to follow the motorway eastbound. The roadside looked more like a ditch, with reed and all, and, moreover, it was limited with an ominous-looking fence.

Indeed, quite soon I heard a police howler, there stopped a police van and they invited me in. I was informed in a rigorous sort of voice that it was not permitted to walk on the motorway, like in Slovakia, and that I was subject to a fine of 150 EUR. That wasn't exactly the thing I wanted. They checked it out in a brochure and the actual amount of the fine to be paid turned out to be 75 EUR. I still didn't fancy the prospect of being fined, so I told them the truth: after all, I am a poor student from a stick-in-the-mud country and I was going to exit Slovenia as soon as possible. One of the policemen looked through my passport and became particularly interested in the Indian visas for some reason. Possibly, he had never seen the Devanagari before. I already knew the solution: I thrust some paper in Russian in his hands. It worked, and much better than I could have expected, both policemen were amused with the Cyrillic script. We had a nice conversation and they took me for some 50 km, wished me luck and let my out close to an abandoned border crossing with Hungary.


This particular crossing was actually the least hitchhikable place I had ever seen. I gave up my fruitless attempts to hitchhike there and left exploring. I found out I was in a Hungarian-speaking settlement of Dolga Vas in Prekmurje. I decided to walk to the town of Lendava where I could probably take a bus or a train or even spend a night in a case of emergency. The walk took me some 50 minutes, which is confirmed by the name of the settlement (Dolga Vas means 'a long village' in Slovene). Lendava looked moderately beautiful.



I didn't bump into any bus or train station, but I noticed a sign saying 'Hungary' and decided to follow it. It was a mere country road, but there was no other option left.

It was a long way, and at some point it started getting dark. I got really worried, nervous and all, but I didn't give up, though everything made me think that was a wrong way. Finally, after some 12 km, I came to a motorway which was certainly the one I needed. The only trouble was that I had to cross the motorway. It took me more than half an hour to find a way. I found myself at a petrol station in the extreme east of Slovenia at night. Hitchhiking by thumb seemed really useless, given that it was all dark. I decided to ask some Polish truck drivers for a ride, hoping to impress them with my love for Poland. But there were no Polish trucks around. I got really nervous once again.

And suddenly, when I had already lost hope, there appeared a Russian truck. The driver got out and I, desperate, came up to him.

'Hey there, you are heading to Budapest, aren't you?'

He apparently didn't expect me to speak Russian, but he answered in a weird accent:

'Yeah I am, what's it to ya?'

'May I go with you?'

'No ya may not.'

'And why may I not?'

'Dincha see the plate sayin' "Hitchhiking prohibited"?'

'No I didn't.'

'Hahahaha, didja like me joke? Yeah ya may go with me, just a mo'.'

He wanted me to show him my passport to prove him I was Russian, dunno why would he want to know that. This was one of the happiest moments of my life. He offered me tea and took me right to Budapest. It is the longest ride I have ever had, the distance is like 300 km, which is not much, but anyway.

He stopped the truck in a faraway neighbourhood of Budapest, for he needed to pass some documents to another Russian person from Budapest. The person turned out to be an Armenian-born man, which means that he is always ready to help. He took me right to the neighbourhood where I was going to stay. My host met me and we spent some two hours watching pictures he had taken in Cuba.

That was one of the craziest days I had ever had.

Posted by degoiabeira 19:59 Archived in Slovenia

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