How 𝘕𝘖𝘛 to travel Europe #4 – Gin and Potatoes


– You can use my camper van, if you want. (gentle upbeat music) – It was crunch time here
at the service station. The journey up to this
point had been epic, but the bottom line was we’d only traveled 220 miles in three and a half days, with roughly 700 to go, and
all six challenges still to do. This next few hours was all about getting as far as possible. No lift today would be disastrous. And after a few minutes, it already felt like a possibility. The guy over there has told us it ain’t the best place to hitchhike. In fact, he said it’s pretty bad. This is desperate, man. I think that guy was right. No one is reacting well to this. I mean all we’ve got is A4 east. Now not specific, just
anywhere, anywhere that way. No one’s looking twice, really, so I’m a bit worried about our chances of getting to Ljubljana,
which is where we wanna go. Greg’s in the toilet of the petrol station watching the Wales rugby game, he’s streaming it on his phone. Fair enough. I don’t need him to do this, to be fair. I’ve got a bad feeling
there’ll be a few updates, and they’ll all be here. But mercifully, the next
update was this one. Got someone, mate. – Have we? You joking? – [Tom] No, I’m not joking, there he is. – Oh my God, that’s so sick. Who is it? – Sometimes they do like, if you want to do this, press one. – [Tom] It was none other than Mario, or Super Mario, as he was swiftly dubbed. Driving back from a solo mountain climbing expedition in the French Alps, Mario offered to drive us all the way to Bologna, which actually wasn’t the way we were going, but it was east, and had good links up
to Venice and beyond. It was a damn sight
better than staying put. Mario’s come to our rescue. – Super hero. – [Tom] Super hero rugby player, hiker. (Mario laughing) Sometimes long rides with strangers can be a bit awkward, but not with Mario. Riding with him was an absolute pleasure. We shared adventure stories. He told us everything we needed to know about the real mafia, not the normal, well
dressed men that we’d seen, and countless other topics. – It’s not hot and the glacier is better. Oh shit. – Nice mate, nicely done. (Greg laughing) Why not? – [Greg] That’s good driving, man. – [Tom] It felt strange
to be in a city again, but we’d opted to make the switch from service station to train station. – [Mario] Main entrance. – Yeah, wicked. The thinking was that by train, we could make it to Venice by nightfall, whereas hitchhiking
might leave us stranded in a service station for the entire night. Yeah. That’ll do, mate. That’ll do. All too quickly, we were saying goodbye to another person we’d
really grown fond of, but Mario’s story wasn’t over yet, because sitting in the backseat of the Mario mobile was Greg’s brand new £400 phone. Can’t thank you enough. – All the best. See you later.
– Thank you man. See you Mario! What’s happened, mate? (Greg laughing) (Tom laughing) – Left my phone in Super Mario’s car, so. What? – No, it’s awful but it’s just funny because he’s got that out the car, useless array of litter. – I’m wondering like how
long we could wait here in the hope that he notices. – [Tom] The problem was, our train was leaving in 15 minutes, or at least we thought it was, we weren’t sure as we no longer had a phone. So I left Greg and ran over to the station to check the times, whilst Greg waited on the corner, clinging
onto the thread of hope that Super Mario would return. No! (laughing) No way. He came back? – He was still there, mate. I was thinking I got two minutes to leave, I have to get back to the station, and there was this loud beep, like horn, there was like a bus, a bus driver beeping because he’d gone down the wrong street, done a U-ey in the middle
of that busy junction, turned around and was just like– – Noway!
– I think you forgot something. – Oh my God.
– Mate! – [Tom] He’s top of the list now. – He’s top, Mario, you’re
top of the list, mate. Super Mario, mate, seriously. (Tom laughing) This side. – This one here. On the train, we tracked
down the lone ticket man. And he is tonk. But he was too busy chatting up women to even try to evade. Charming every woman on this coach. Stopping and talking to them. So we chilled out. He’s given up, mate. He’s nowhere. Too busy chatting up the senoritas. In that time, we did some thinking about where the hell we
plan to sleep that night. Now I did know of a party campsite of the mainland, just off Venice, but obviously that would involve paying for a chalet, so we’d previously palmed that off, but now it was dark, and we weren’t gonna find anywhere comfortable to sleep in Venice itself. So we hatched a plan, a plan that would prove to be both hilarious. – Bury time, stop it! – And seriously detrimental to the trip. (Tom grumbling) Right, it’s nine o’clock, Saturday night, and we’re stuck in this
shitty train station. We’re desperate to get to this campsite. It’s a party campsite. We wanna get there, have some wine. (both laughing) Put simply, our plan was
to find the drinking crowd. The Aussies, the Irish, the Brits. Join in with the fun and games, wow them with some stories, and then surely, after enough boozing, we could crash on someones floor. We could probably use
a shower first though. Do you think we should have
a shower at the campsite? – I think yes. (Greg and Tom laughing) – [Tom] We arrived just after 10, and straight away we could hear some incoherent drinking game talk coming from a table by the pool. – [Man] Every time I drink,
everybody has to drink. That’s the rule. – The bitches–
– The rule. – [Man] Make it on a
number, make it on a number. – [Tom] Disappointingly, the place was pretty dead for the most part. No Aussies, Brits or girls. Our hopes rested on this
group of rowdy Yanks. Would they let us into their pack? – [Man] You have it, you take the drink. – [Tom] Son of a fuck! ♪ For your right ♪ – [Man] You know boys. ♪ To party ♪ – 40. – Yeah boys. – [Tom] Let me introduce the key figures from this unforgettable
cock-fest of a party. First up, Xavier Cooke. – What’s going on?
– Xavier. – Yes. – [Tom] Yes Xavier. – Tom. – [Tom] If you play
your cards right, buddy, you’re going to be on the video. (Xavier laughing) – Yes. – What can I say about this man? Just one of the most exuberant, fun loving, charismatic
guys I’ve ever met, and he would prove to be the
centerpiece of this shindig. Enthusiastic. – Two in the poo? Jesus Christ. Give her a little break, all right? – [Tom] There was Drew,
one of the soundest guys we met on the whole trip, and these two random Jager
guzzling German brothers. Mate, it’s just like water
to you guys, isn’t it? – [Xavier] Oh there we go, boys. – I love Jagermeister. – [Tom] But it was Xavier’s
larger than life character, coupled with my competitiveness that would prove to be a lethal mix. – If you’re truly honest about how much you Englishmen can drink. – Yeah. – Go ahead and down that
pure gin right there, friend. – I tell you what, I’ll
do it if you match me. – [Greg] So if you go. – Here.
– Take it like a man. – My Yankee brother right here. – I’ll take it like a man. This guy’s accusing
Englishman of not being– – I have to! – So he needs to match me. – [Greg] The moment’s arrived. – Are we downing these? – This man said “Are we downing these?” – Are we downing them? – [Greg] You’re embarrassing the nation. – Now listen to me.
– As if it was a legitimate question. – Okay, I’ll give you a question. Are you going to film
us in half an hours time and see who’s slurring their words more? We’ll see. Cheers. – We’re ready. – [Man] Pause on the cheers,
because you need a thumbnail. – All right. (classes chinking) – [Man] Look angry. It’s America versus Britain. – Fuck English. Fuck! (Greg laughing) Prost. – [Man] Send it, boy. Yep, you represent the States right there. – [Man] Oh no. – [Man] That’s a stateside drinker, bud. – [Man] You took tequila too slow. (speaking in a foreign language) – That was like water to me. – Were you sipping it? – [Greg] There was a dibble
that went down your cheek. – Do we need to do it again?
– No dribble here. – Sir, do we need to do it again? – [Greg] We do. – Oh we don’t. (Greg laughing) Not long after this, we were joined by a young chap, later dubbed Philly Tom. A self proclaimed
Philadelphia street hardened young buck, with a hard
ghetto accent to match. It really didn’t take him long to warn us of how, where he’s from, they burry you 10 feet under, not six. – They’re probably still
alive ringing bells. – So they’re ringing bells. – Yeah. I know what you talking about, I know exactly what you talking about. – So 10 feet’s completely redundant. – Yeah, exactly. – So why do you dig people 10 feet under when you can go six? – [Xavier] They dig ’em six feet under, obviously, he’s just saying– – Next thing you now, this nigger’s dead. He done, he can’t breath. – Philly Tom, let’s get in here. – [Tom] Come on Tom. – Come on, we’re all friends.
– Philly Tom. – We’re all humans.
– Philly Tom. – We’re all human, you
know what I’m saying? From this real brotherhood right here. – From the east side.
– What have you got to say, man? Philly Tom, what have you got to say? – Brothers, all of us.
– I won’t say shit. – Doesn’t matter where you’re from. – [Tom] It’s true, it’s true. – Philly Tom.
– Philly, Philly, Philly, get over here. – Get the fuck over there.
– Get your ass, Philly Tom, you’ve got something to say for the camera. I know you don’t like cameras, but still say something for the camera. – Say something to camera. – [Tom] Say something mate. – [Man] Where y’all from? – Philly, where you from?
– He said he from Philly. – Say where you’re from.
– I’m from Oxnard, California. – I ain’t saying shit.
– I’m from the valleys in Wales, mate. – I’m from upstate New York. Don’t get it twisted. – Wichita, Kansas. – Wichita, Kansas and
the entire East Coast. – I can’t compete with that, but that is the most smooth mother. I don’t remember much after this point, but apparently me and Philly Tom had a bit of a scuffle off camera. – No, what are we doing? – [Greg] If he did that to you in Philly, would he be 10 feet? – [Philly Tom] No, yo! No! (laughing) – I wanna catch Tom.
– You just said– – [Man] Extra feet. – [Tom] But we soon made up. – Stop it, stop it! Stop it! You’re being too noisy. Tom, Birmie Tom – [Tom] I think. Then outside, whilst Xavier attempted to make his most heartfelt speak to date. – [Xavier] Brotherhood
is innate in all of us. – [Tom] The fun came to an abrupt end. – [Security Guard] Guys, it’s
finished, finished, go inside. Finish. – [Man] Time to go. He is fucking on one, dude. – [Man] This man. – [Tom] This man was the infamous nighttime security
manager, that I instantly remembered from six years prior. A scary man who ruled the night shift with an iron fist, and had no qualms with using aggression or
even physical violence to keep the place quiet. And he was livid. (speaking in a foreign language) Calm down, calm down. – Don’t calm down, fuck you! No calm down!
– What? See, I told you he was a lunatic. – [Greg] He’s a lunatic. – So it was back inside,
where presumably I passed out. In the morning, myself still very much under the influence of
last nights alcohol. (Greg laughing)
(upbeat music) We made our way back to our stashed bags, and planned our next move. But little did I know that the copious amounts of gin that I’d consumed, which was now mixing with this awful cheese and tomato panini, would soon begun to wreak havoc
with my fragile insides. Shit. Fearing that I may
throw the soggy sandwich back up at any given
time, and keen for that not to be in a strangers car, we had little choice but to pay
for a Flix Bus to Ljubljana, thus ending our run of free transport. It was a shame it had come to this, but that’s what you get when you drink on an empty stomach. – [Greg] How’re you feeling, Tom? (Tom grumbling) (pinging) – In between toilet trips,
I just about managed to muster up the strength to appreciate the views of the Adriatic Sea. Wow. But regrettably, I was in no fit state to explore and then sleep
up on the castle hill, like we’d planned. So we grazed Ljubljana’s magical streets, until we found a hostel. Cool. Where I could lie the fuck down. (Greg laughing) Apologies for breezing through this chapter so quickly, but ultimately, we all want to get back to
the good stuff, don’t we? So we’re picking things up
from 11 am the next day, and it’s really not long before we start cocking things up again. Well we’ve got a train in 25 minutes, so we need to eat these quick time. Our plan now was to
get to the eastern city of Maribor, and just walk east into the countryside
with no plan whatsoever, just like we used to. Hopefully we could find the time to complete some challenges along the way, before picking up the A5, where we could make some proper ground. But for now. We are seriously pushing our luck here. – With a pizza and a stew in hand. – The train leaves in 10 minutes, and we are roughly 10
minutes from the station, and we need to buy a ticket. Quick, let’s get this. We actually had every intention of paying for this train, but with
literally 30 seconds to spare as we entered the station, and a queue inside it. – So then there might be a problem. – [Tom] Just going to have to
go on the train, aren’t we? – Yeah. – We just had to board
the train, like usual. There’s no hiding on this one, mate. Okay, there’s no hiding on this train, not for 20 stops, or whatever it is, so we’re just going to have
to wait until it starts. – [Greg] Plead our case. – Plead our case, just be like mate, please, we had to run. You know, please, is there any way we can pay on the train? Okay, we’re going to try
and find the ticket guy now. (speaking in a foreign language) Okay, okay. (speaking in a foreign language) Mightily relieved that we were allowed to stay on the train, we could now enjoy the amazing Slovenian scenery and get ourselves in the
mood for our next adventure. Look at this guy. Just a lovely, lovely natured man. Absolute heart of gold. (Greg laughing) Greg’s forgot his half eaten pizza. Just hope the train doesn’t
head on back to Ljubljana. But thankfully it didn’t, and soon we were heading back into the countryside again. Well, Maribor is somewhere over there, we’ve just left it behind. Rightly or wrongly, we’re
now just heading east. We’re just heading east, it’s three pm, and one thing’s for sure, we’re going to be spending the night,
which might be quite rainy, 95% chance of rain, in fact. – It might be, yeah, 95. – Definitely will rain. Yeah, we’re going to spend the night in the countryside, whether that be in a hay barn, someone’s shed. – Someone’s bed. – Someone’s bed, possibly,
I mean preferably. Maybe we’ll hitch a ride
on one of these things. Taken in by some of these folk, yep. You know, who knows what’ll happen. If you’re wondering why we’re heading east into the countryside, aimlessly, when we’ve only got three days left to get to Bratislava, there is a motorway about 15 miles east of here. So if we can get there tomorrow, we’ll have a chance of hitchhiking from what we think is a service station. Wish us luck. A couple of miles in, we saw some ladies harvesting potatoes, so naturally we went over and offered our services. – [Greg] We’re helping local people. – I don’t have any money to– – [Greg] No, no. – No money.
– We don’t need money. – [Greg] No money. – [Tom] One lady then insisted that we drink some of this unknown substance, before showing us what did and what didn’t constitute a potato worth keeping. – That potato is this here. – Bad? Little good. Well, we’re harvesting potatoes. And it was hard work too,
back breaking in fact, and we’d only moved five yards. But with a bit of moral support from Ayla, the flea ridden dog, and a bit of encouragement
from the ladies. – Faster! – [Tom] We’d soon filled up our crates. A job well done. Ciao, ciao. – Ciao, bye. – Come back, you naughty dog. Well, that was interesting. We’ll get one one day, mate. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the countryside, the sense that the heavens were about
to open grew stronger. Now we were eager to make good ground, but it was now also important that we ended up at a village before dark, partly to try and seek
refuge in a house of God, challenge number three on our list, but mainly because villages meant people, friendly country folk who might be willing to help us. People like Ramona here, who had no qualms with picking up two random blokes and taking them two miles down the road. – [Greg] Thank you Ramona. Thank you very much. – Good.
– Thank you. – Okay.
– Bye, bye. – Bye, bye.
– Bye. (laughing) Nice to meet you. – Nice to meet you too. – Nice to meet you too. Well that is ominous. And we’ve found a house of God. – And it’s locked. – [Tom] And it’s locked, and
there’s an alarm thing there. – [Greg] No refuge to have. – Definitely could have slept
in there if it was open. Be terrifying at night but. (Greg laughing) Despite being two miles deeper into the countryside, nothing really felt different, except now we were getting a bit desperate. We needed some sort of
roof above our heads, fast. Well there’s rumbling
thunder in the distance, which I’ve got a bad
feeling is coming our way. But so far, what we’ve walked through, it’s been stunning, but
it’s been very well off. Not as countrysidey and
poor and traditional as we thought it would be. We have got a tactic
which is sway like this and look like we’re really in need of food and water, but the fact that Greg’s got a bit sandwich strapped to his bag doesn’t really help. Then just half a mile down the road. We’ve gone a bit lost,
well we know where we are– – We kind of know where we are, but we’re on foot and we’re just wondering if there’s anywhere you know in this place where you can sleep? – [Tom] Because we think
it’s going to rain soon. – We think it’s going
(laughs) to tip it down. – You have some sleeping bags? Yeah, you can use my
camper van, if you want. – Really?
– Are you sure? – Yeah, it will rain so–
– You don’t mind? Do you think it will rain, for sure? – [Jerry] Yeah, it will rain. (Tom laughing) – [Greg] That would be really, really– – [Tom] That’s amazing. (laughing) – No shoes allowed inside. Shoes out here.
– Yes, no problem. – Maybe some spiders
will make you company. – [Greg] Oh yeah. – [Tom] We’re used to the spiders. – Can you believe it?
– Literally, what has it been, five minutes? – Five minutes.
– And the rain is coming down, and we’ve done it again, we’ve stumbled across just the nicest, the salt of the Earth, really. The salt of the Earth. I mean look at this fucking thing. I don’t give a fuck whether
it’s filled with spiders. What’s his name? – It’s the first time
you’ve ever said that. – I know.
– I can’t remember, mate. – His name was Yrney, but he said we could call him Jerry,
and having already saved us from the elements in the coolest way possible, he then sacrificed his own dryness in order to run down and give us an umbrella, because inside their big, yellow and orange house, Jerry’s mom, who we’d initially spoken to before Jerry, had been hard at work in the kitchen rustling
up something very special. Well, we have been absolutely spoilt. – We’ve been spoilt, totally. – Best eggs ever. Best tomatoes ever. – And this is just out of this world. What is in there, Jerry? – [Jerry] Cucumber,
potato, onion, pumpkin oil. – Is that the–
– Pumpkin oil. – Pumpkin oil.
– Pumpkin oil, yeah. – So that’s pumpkin oil from– – [Jerry] It’s from the
oil mill, but it’s nearby. – Fresh food. – Lovely flavor, and the
radishes to top it off. – Listen to this crunch. (crunching) (Greg laughing) (pinging) Every single edible item in this household either came from straight out the garden, or from just round the corner, and the whole lot was
absolutely delicious, and dessert was no exception. Cake? (Greg laughing) But the best was yet to come. There’s our bed for the
night, just over there. – [Greg] Think how wet we’d be now. – [Tom] We’d be miserable, mate. Having made our way back, cake in hand to our cozy camper,
which ran on cooking oil, by the way, we were
surprised again by Jerry, but this time he’d brought down his delightful daughter
Nikka, but that’s not all. See Jerry’s a professional wine smellier, and bloody passionate
about Slovenian wine. What have we got here then, Jerry? – Oh this is a bottle of
(speaking in a foreign language), this is from the coast. – [Tom] And how much will this bottle cost you in the supermarket? – You never find it in supermarket. – [Greg] Really? – [Tom] Really? So you can get it in fancy restaurants? – [Jerry] Yes, you can get it in some good restaurants in New York, Copenhagen. – [Tom] Really? – [Jerry] Take a glass. – [Tom] Yeah, sure. (speaking in a foreign language) (glasses chinking) – Ah-ha yes, that’s good. – Hello. (Jerry and Greg laughing) That’s beautiful. – Yeah man. – [Tom] Nikka then taught Greg
how to count in Slovenian. (speaking in a foreign language) – Woo! – [Tom] Good? (everyone laughing) Awesome. – Awesome.
– It was awesome. Awesome o’clock, Nikka’s bedtime. So she was replaced by Jerry’s older and even taller brother, who joined us in sipping wine and sharing stories until the late hours, when unfortunately, it was time to say goodnight. – [Greg] See ya. – [Tom] See ya, man. – [Jerry] See you. – Here comes Greg now with his umbrella. All right Greg? – [Greg] Hello. – [Tom] Hasn’t it been
a wonderful evening? – [Greg] Absolutely wonderful. No I mean it really has. – [Tom] I was just saying how the food, it wasn’t just a case of, oh yeah we’re going to sleep in a camper van, it became so much more than that. – No, no, it became– – We had the most expensive
bottle of wine in Slovenia. – You can only get them in restaurants in New York and Copenhagen. (both laughing) – We’ve just had the
best conversations going, we’ve thoroughly enjoyed
each others company, and I’ll be sad to leave. – I really will, no I really will, I really will, I’m not leaving. (both laughing) – [Tom] The next morning, we were woken by the animals of the farm. (rooster calling)
(dog barking) Jerry came down to greet
us at the perfect time. Here comes Jerry. – [Jerry] Morning! – Morning. But today, we wouldn’t be joining him at the breakfast table, instead we were following him into the garden, because today was the day that we had decided to live off the land. You’re a good harvesting height. (Greg laughing) I mean what better time to do it? Jerry’s garden had everything, including things we’d
never tried or heard of. Oh! And things we didn’t know
were scientifically possible. – This is half apple half pear. It’s a natural crossing. – [Tom] It wasn’t long before our bin bag was full of food, and that was before we’d got to the potatoes. It felt like cheating a bit. Maybe it was. – [Greg] See you later, camper. You’ve been a brilliant bed for the night. – [Tom] But we were leaving it behind, and thanks to Jerry who kindly offered to take us the remaining
way to the service station, in his car whose fumes literally smelt of lovely donuts, we were moving swiftly on to the next stage. And it’s a good job we were early too, because our plan for the day, aside from living off the land, was pretty ambitious, even if we didn’t know it at the time. It involved reaching the Hungarian city of Szombathely, or Zatombelly,
as we kept calling it, where we now hopefully had a brand new mode of transport waiting for us in the shape of two bicycles. But not only was it far away, and in another country, the route there was specific, and only a fraction of the cars would be
heading where we were. That wasn’t the only problem. – [Greg] The problem
is here, in comparison to other places we’ve been,
there is really no plan B. – Yeah, there’s no public
transport we can use. There’s no trains or buses. – [Greg] Here we just have to hitchhike, and we have to get to Szombathely today, because we have to arrange the collection of some bikes, and tomorrow we have to be up bright and early, biking into Austria and onto Vienna. The fact that Jerry’s given us this massive boost of potatoes and veg. – And as the sun pops
out through the clouds, our optimism is strong. (Greg laughing) But as the sun got stronger, our chances of a lift wilted again, to the point that we considered jumping into a lorry filled with household waste, but a lift wasn’t our only issue. We just tried to ring Sam, the guy who’s meant to be hooking us up with two bikes, but who we hadn’t heard from in days, so I’m losing hope. Maybe there’s been a
problem, I don’t know. Maybe he’s dead, who
knows, but hopefully not. – Bit extreme. – [Tom] But he hadn’t
died, he was just busy. And eventually, a young
man in a Golf Estate swooped by to pick us up. He was Plaj of Murska
Sobota, whose football team he religiously supported,
and whose service station he could take us as far as, but not before we stopped on the hard
shoulder for a piss. – [Greg] Do you smell like alcohol? – No, can you? – [Greg] Yep. – [Tom] No! (laughing) That’s probably why he’s pissing. As we approached the services, Greg made an attempt at Slovenian word that was so bad that Plaj thought that we were alerting him
of a nearby police car. (speaking in a foreign language) Perfect Greg, perfect. – Where do you see police? – No, no. No, no, no, I was trying to say the word. Thanks a lot, man. – [Tom] Thanks man. – Good luck with the football, I hope you come second,
after your next game. – [Tom] We’d eeked our way east, but really, we needed a longer lift now, as we grazed on Jerry’s produce. – Bloody good tomatoes. – Mate, so nice. But again, we were having no luck with the cars, who all seemed to be in a major rush to get
back onto the motorway. The good news was I’d gotten through to Sam the bike man. See you later, bye, bye, bye. – [Greg] Well? – He’s got two free bikes for us, and he’s free all day. It’s all up to us now to get there, but the bikes are sorted,
so really, really eager now. – [Greg] That’s good. – Come on! The desire to get into Hungary had suddenly tripled, but we were stuck in a shit place, both
geographically and autostopically. So we moved on to plan B,
pestering lorry drivers. – One driver, one person. Not possible, no. – [Tom] But they all said no, and the possibility of being stuck in Slovenia now felt very real. We had to take decisive action. – You need taxi. – [Tom] Yeah. – Okay. – Is it possible? – Yeah, I can give you the number. – I was kind of hoping
that she’d make the call, to be honest, but she left it to me. I haven’t got high hopes for this, mate. (Greg laughing) (woman laughing) They find it funny. (speaking in a foreign language) Do you speak English? No, okay. One second. – [Greg] Dolga Vas. – Dolga Vas. – [Greg] Petrol. – Petrol. (speaking in a foreign language) Thank you so much.
– He will come 10 minutes. – [Tom] Perfect, perfect. – Thank you so much. – Thank you so much.
– You’re welcome. – Ciao. Hitchhike. We used our 10 minutes wisely, stocking up on a substance that would vastly improve meal time. No, salt, although it did raise a few eyebrows amongst the staff, who really ought to order
some sachets in for next time. – [Greg] I got hold of it, mate. – Our taxi man, who
did speak some English, unlike the guy who mans the phone back at head office, took us 15 miles to the problematic junction, and right up to the Hungarian border. It was so useful, even if
it was a tad expensive. Here’s the arm, here’s the leg. There you go. We’re physically walking through the vehicle border from Slovenia into whatever that is. – [Greg] Some mad place. – Some mad country that
no one’s ever heard of, no it’s Hungary but in Slovenian. And this is where our currency becomes absolutely redundant. Luckily we used most of it just then. But we have got this bag of fruit. The Hungarian side of the
border was an odd place. In the middle, a series
of run down communist looking structures, and
scattered around the edge, various vehicles that were presumably stopped in their tracks and abandoned. Perhaps during the migrant
crisis a couple of years prior. But there was no one manning the fort now. No police presence here at all. I haven’t seen any official person. Having found a good, slow, roomy spot a few yards after the border, I left Greg in search of some much needed water, but it had to be free, remember? And preferably not an already open bottle, or from a sink not used since 1989. Feeling bold, I snuck
into the back entrance of a truckers cafe and filled
up in the staff toilet. Now it was back to Greg, slip into something more casual
and innocent looking, and hopefully get that
final lift to Szombathely. It’s two o’clock now, and
we’re at our border location. It’s a lovely day, but
it’s just this uncertainty. Never hitchhiked in Hungary before. Don’t know about whether this border is putting people off. But you know, surely on
this bright sunny day, now that we’re in our shorts, someone’s going to pick us up. – Happy go lucky kind of action. – Happy go lucky attitude. Someone’s going to pick us up, surely. But I’m afraid we were mistaken. Over the next few hours, as the sun arched its way across the clear blue sky, we watched hundreds of
cars, vans and lorries, not only pass us by but hardly
acknowledge our existence. We tried moving around and
making different signs, but it made no difference, and to make matters
worse, we’d polished off the last of our fruit. It really was now a fruitless endeavor. – [Greg] To be honest, we haven’t had very much luck at all. – I’m starving. – [Greg] We’re getting pretty hungry. – Starving. – [Greg] Which is quite a pun in itself, and it’s looking pretty bleak. (both laughing) – [Tom] We were starting to wonder whether there was something else that was deterring people from stopping, and the main candidates
were over the road. Greg’s going to ask the Hungarian police if what we’re doing is
actually legal. (laughing) What’s the authoritative verdict, Greg? – Not illegal. – [Tom] What else did he say? – He said that, he says
“Where are you going?” I said “Szombathely”. He said apparently– – [Tom] You’re saying it wrong. (both laughing) – You’re saying it wrong,
now get in the van. If you go up here, apparently
there’s a service station. – With the fate of the trip
resting in the balance, an entire day of biking
and doing challenges slipping away from us with every hour, we left for the service station, in the hopes that peoples attitudes would change somehow, once they were in a place where they weren’t
being watched, however. Well, that is shit, because it’s on the wrong side of the road. We ain’t using that, we’ve
gotta stay on this road. Fraction of the cars that would have just come past then
would have stopped there, so it’s just rubbish. We decided to try our luck
opposite the petrol station. It’s do or die here now we’re here. It’s our last hope. Taking it in turns to occasionally pop over to pester people
for a lift, with no luck. My next phone call with Sam was simply to tell him that there was a good chance that he needn’t bother driving the bikes down to Szombathely from his home, just over the Austrian border. – [Greg] Hold on. – Just don’t get it, man. I’ve never had such a shit
hitchhiking experience. The mood was now at an all time low, and only amplified by
our crippling hunger. Feel pretty hopeless at
the moment, to be honest. (Greg laughing) At least Greg managed
to see the funny side. But our spuds would have to stay firmly in their sack for at least a couple more hours while we gave this one big final push to
try and rescue this trip. Tune in next week to see what happens. You won’t be disappointed. (somber music)

100 Comments

Add a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *