Last weekend, I finally hit the road again: hitchhiking through the Swiss cantons of Zurich, St Gallen and Thurgau, across Lake Constance and through the German states of Baden-Württemberg and Bavaria. A brisk 500 km is what I had planned.
However, I strayed from the path so often that it turned into a veritable odyssey. Consequently, the account became so long that I turned it into a trilogy, so as not to overburden those of you who get upset about the length of my articles.
So here is the first part:
Switzerland is beautiful. Rolling hills, lush green and some lakes in between. Perfectly marked hiking paths, leading through deep gorges with small creeks. Villages with meticulously kept houses, flowers in the gardens and fluffy clouds above.
Like a postcard.
And perfectly organized. Although the village of Waltenstein (near Winterthur) has barely 15 houses, and that’s already counting the tree-houses for the children, there is a bus every hour. From 5am until 11pm! Even on Sundays! I am so fascinated by this, because in Germany I live in a village which has a hundred times more people, but no bus bothers to venture there after 6pm, let alone on the weekend. Well, now we know why Switzerland has such high taxes, but I think it’s worth it.
Problem is, it’s all too picture-postcard perfect.
I really like countries that are more exciting than beautiful, where stuff happens, a little bit of chaos, maybe even a revolution from time to time. Because in my experience, there are more authentic and interesting human interactions in such places than in the ones where everybody has everything they need or can call a number to get it. Too much organization destroys communication between people.
For example, because of the exemplary public transport, I wonder if motorists see any need to stop for hitchhikers at all, knowing that in this mountainous country you can be reliably chauffeured from any point A to any point B by public bus.
So, after finishing a two-week cat-sitting job in Waltenstein, I decide to try it and place myself at the side of the road, as curious as a cat.
Shortly before 8am, I stand at the crossroads in the village. A sunny Saturday morning. I have to go to Ammerthal in Bavaria, so I have about 500 km ahead of me. And 13 hours of daylight. That should be enough.
After 20 minutes, a gentleman who is going to the next village, Elgg, stops.
He is on his way to a job interview as a sales manager for kitchens. After 22 years with the same company, it’s time to try a new employer, he thinks. About time, I think.
“That’s really nice of you to stop for me on such an important day. I would probably be much too nervous and excited,” I express my gratitude.
“Oh, no problem. I still have 12 minutes until the appointment.” Swiss people are very precise and never arrive a minute late, nor a minute early.
It’s market day in Elgg, so people should be flocking from all over to buy agricultural products, and afterwards they can give me a ride on their way home. So I stand just a little bit away from the market place on the road leading north-east.
“Difficult, isn’t it?” asks a passerby with an air of connoisseurship, as if he too is disappointed by a society of people who are shy, even scared of meeting new people.
But soon, a young man stops and introduces himself with a firm handshake: Thomas. He is only going to Aadorf, about two and a half kilometers away, but he sometimes hitchhikes himself and encourages me: “Hitchhiking is not about your thumb, it’s about your head. It’s all a matter of attitude. With the right mindset, you can do it!” His optimism is contagious.
In Aadorf, a young family first drives past me, but then turns around and comes back to pick me up like a dog forgotten at the highway rest station. The landscape gardener, his wife and the baby are going to St Gallen. About 50 km, now things are really picking up.
When I am in the car with couples, I always feel guilty about telling them about my life and my adventures. I am worried that the young man will pack his backpack afterwards, leave his wife and child and go on pilgrimage to Nepal. On the other hand, as a landscape gardener, he has peace and quiet all day anyway.
Completely committed to the idea of spontaneity, I did not pick a good spot in St Gallen beforehand. The two drop me off at a shopping center near the motorway. There, it takes me less than 10 minutes to realize that it’s a hopeless spot. The cars are too fast, there is no place to stop, and without a sign, no one knows where I am going.
Near the motorway entrance, there is a small chapel for lost souls and lost hitchhikers. On the steps of the hitchhiking hermitage, I spread out the map and get an overview of my position and my situation. Both are very bad, not even the mindset helps. When Saint Gall founded the city, he must have taken Los Angeles as his model, as the city is covered with highways going in all directions and crossing and intersecting each other. It’s a mess of urban planning and hitchhiking hell.
An older, very friendly gentleman approaches me and asks if he can help. I explain the situation and the plan.
“Forget about it,” he says crisply, but not without reason, “you’re on the wrong side of the city.” I’m all the way on the westside, he says, and need to get on the eastside, once through the elongated city. “Anyone who gets on the motorway here certainly doesn’t want to go in your direction,” he says.
“Walk 300 meters down the street and take the bus through town for only 2 francs. Or, even better, go straight to Wittenbach, from there the country road goes to Romanshorn.” The latter is the last destination in Switzerland, because from there a ship sails to Germany. From readers’ feedback, I know that you appreciate it when I vary the means of transportation on my journeys.
I am reluctant to travel in any other way than by hitchhiking. But if I walk two hours through the whole city, I will miss the two hours at Lake Constance later. Besides, I am hitchhiking for pleasure, not out of puritanical purism, even though St Gallen is a Reformation city.
And there comes bus no. 4 already. The gentleman explained everything to me so kindly and helpfully, it would be rude not to follow his advice.
“And from Wittenbach, you can take the train to Romanshorn,” he shouts after me, letting his low confidence in my beginner’s hitchhiking skills shine through.
No, I certainly won’t do that. Back on the road, I will trust only my thumb and my smile. And indeed, in Wittenbach, after only a few minutes, a man stops and drives me almost the whole way to the port. He goes to Egnach, already on Lake Constance and only a short walk from Romanshorn.
It is already the second driver today who introduces himself as someone downplaying the corona virus. “Masks don’t help against viruses at all.” “I refuse to follow all this crap.” And best of all, “You shouldn’t believe everything” from people who, after 10 minutes of YouTube University, think they know everything better than the broad consensus of virologists, epidemiologists, immunologists and medical doctors. And these are the people who are voting in referendums on corporate liability in supply chains, unconditional basic income, and the framework agreement with the EU.
There are people trivializing the corona virus everywhere. But in Switzerland, there’s another aspect: the desire to distance themselves from Germany. “Oh, you’re going to Germany? That’s bad, you have absolutely no freedoms there anymore.” I keep hearing that, as if Germany were North Korea, just because gyms and cinemas have been closed. It is always uttered with ostensible pity (“you poor Germans”), doing an inadequate job of concealing the Swiss sense of superiority and condescendence.
But I don’t want to argue with people. First, I’m a guest in their car. Second, it’s useless. Third, I am glad for anyone who is not afraid of infection and therefore willing to give me a ride.
The driver drops me off at the hiking and biking trail along the lake, because I want to walk the last few kilometers. It’s a beautiful day, with views of Lake Constance on one side and the Alps on the other.
On the lakeside footpath, a stressed-looking man with a builder’s uniform and blueprints under his arm approaches me: “Tell me, is it half past eleven already?”
“Yes,” I confirm, “it’s 11:35.”
“I don’t believe it! Where on Earth is he?” the waiting person is furious with the 300-second delay of his colleague, boss or customer. Normally, the Swiss are so punctual; here, even women show up reliably and to the minute for a date.
To continue hitchhiking in Germany, I thought that I will talk to motorists on the ferry to Friedrichshafen to find out if anyone is going to Bavaria.
That’s a great plan, I am thinking to myself.
Unfortunately, the port in Romanshorn and the ferry look as empty as if a naval blockade had been imposed. Hopefully the sea mines have not been laid yet.
Distance-wise, Lake Constance is not the halfway point. I have 70 km behind me and at least 360 km ahead of me. But mentally, the water and the international border, the leisurely cruise and the return to the EU make me think that I am halfway there, so I am relaxing. Relaxing too much, as it will turn out later. But I don’t suspect anything of that yet, while enjoying these views:
Very briskly and very narrowly passing the quay wall, the ferry heads into the harbor of Friedrichshafen. Perfectly parked. A modernist-style building, now the Zeppelin Museum, and a hangar at the harbor reveal what the city was really built for.
For the people of Friedrichshafen, Lake Constance soon became too small, and they wanted not only to reach the other shore, but other continents. So they built airships and flew to New York, Tokyo, Los Angeles and Rio de Janeiro.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a ticket for the airship, and we know from the movies how harsh their ticket inspectors are.
Far less harsh are the German police, supposedly controlling the supposedly strict coronavirus protection measures when entering oh-so-strict Germany. An empty police car is guarding the border, the officers are out to lunch.
A good idea! I’ll get myself the first kebab after two weeks of abstinence, because in Switzerland, this staple food costs a whopping 10 euros, for which in Germany you get two kebabs, or even three on student discount.
For the Swiss friends who believe that in Germany everything is frozen in quarantine, here are a few photos of Friedrichshafen:
People are strolling, eating, holding hands, kissing, dancing, singing and jumping here, too. And unlike in Switzerland, you can even lie down on the grass, smoke, barbecue in the park and pee in the bushes. There are no signs prohibiting this and that and telling you where to do what, but finally there is graffiti again, and people don’t put their empty beer bottles in the trash can, but deliberately next to it, so that the bottle collectors can make a living as well. Even the monument to Kaiser Wilhelm I is not taken seriously by anyone.
The Corniche of Friedrichshafen has a flair of cities by the sea, like Nice or Sukhumi. It is so beautiful, also thanks to the Swiss mountain panorama from the other side of the sea, that I would love to stay a few days.
Only with the firm resolution to come back for a trip around Lake Constance, I finally tear myself away. Now, somehow, I have to hitchhike northeast, in the direction of Bavaria. I walk to the beginning of highway B30, which leads to Ravensburg and Ulm – not yet able to imagine what headaches this highway will give me today. It will turn into a veritable way of the cross.
How or if I manage to continue the journey at all will be seen in part 2. There, you will also hear what the 50 Hail Marys are all about.
- If you want to move faster, a little planning helps. For example, I could have asked to be dropped off in a better spot in St Gallen. And on the German shore of Lake Constance, I would have been better off hitchhiking to Lindau, where the motorway A96 begins. But more about that in part 2.
- Friedrichshafen is definitively worth a visit.
- More hitchhiking stories.
- And other travel stories.
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I enjoy so much reading your Article,
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful experience with. I admire your adventures so much .you have been on the road so long as I know it’s going to be more then 10 years as I don’t mistaken.
if you come to direction to Bavaria Oberfranken please stop by at Bayreuth I would love to meeting you in person.
Mit freundlichen Grüßen/ Best Regards /祝好
thank you very much!
And from Ammerthal, I should actually be able to hitchhike to Bayreuth and back in a day. I’ve only been a few times, but always for court and more recently for an exam at university, so I never saw much of the city, except that it’s quite beautiful.
Stunning photos! I’m glad you included the part about cat sitting. I was wondering why you were starting in Switzerland. Had I missed an adventure? Whew! I worried for a minute.
Looking forward to reading part two!😁
I always try to provide context – sometimes too much, going back by centuries. :-)
Because I had never tried hitchhiking in Switzerland before (actually, I had hardly ever been to Switzerland), I didn’t dare to travel to the cat-sitting assignment that way. I didn’t want to show up a day early or late.
But I needn’t have worried, because Switzerland was actually the easier part. Once in Germany, it got a bit tricky, as we’ll see in part 2…
It was a beautiful weekend, with perfect weather for photography and for sitting in parks. Something which derailed my plan to get home quite a bit.
The next great hitchhiking journey will probably be in August, when I have to get to Stockholm (for another cat sitting). That’s 1500 kilometers, which would be my longest hitchhiking journey so far. A bit daunting, especially as I have never been to Sweden and have no idea how it will work there.
Very much liked reading this. A breath of fresh air. Travel on!
Thank you very much!
Funnily enough, because you mention fresh air, after two days of hitchhiking, I felt like after two days in nature. Although I was standing by the side of the road most of the time, I had gotten so much fresh air and sun as I would have on a long hike.
Now, I am not saying this is healthier than hiking. But still better than staying at home all day. Maybe I’ll go hitchhiking for fun from time to time now, even if I don’t need to get anywhere.
The only person I ever saw trying to hitch a ride in Switzerland was an old lady at a bus stop on the Jura, outside a collective of three houses (it would probably count as a village). She wanted a ride into Geneva, where I was going, because her bus was already 2 minutes late. I dropped her at a bus stop just inside Geneva, not knowing whether she was going to be on time at her destination.
That is so typical Swiss, to worry about the bus being 2 minutes late! :D Or maybe she had timed it too closely and was one second late to reach the bus stop in front of her house.
But very nice of you to stop and give her a ride!
I took it as a cultural experience, something like watching Wagner in Bayreuth
You sat through that ordeal? :O
Thanks for your email if the other day.
Yay, new travels! I missed them.
there is a bus every hour. From 5am until 11am!
Should this be 11PM??
Hope all is well and that you got back ok (safely awaiting parts 2&3!)
Love, Jackie xxx
Oh yes, of course.
Thank you for your sharp eyes!
I did get back home eventually, but it took twice as long as I thought it would, and there were some detours.
As entertaining as this is, I don’t think I can agree about communication occurring only when there is chaos. I myself am tired of chaos (as many of my compatriots will be) having lived mostly in the kind of disorder where trains run 17 hours late etc., that the machinework orderliness of the Swiss sounds quite delightful.
Also what are you going on about ‘Even women show up on time’ and being afraid that ‘the man will abandon his family and go away because you inspired him with your version of nomadism’. I believe you’ll have to update yourself here.
Thank you for the constructive criticism!
But when the train is 17 hours late, people have time to exchange their life stories, they will barbecue together, they will play music, they will exchange books and newspapers that they have read, they will play chess, their children will fall in love with each other, and they will plan a holiday together.
In short, they will have such a fabulous time, that will even be a bit sad when the train finally arrives.
At least that’s how I imagine it.
In Switzerland, everyone is just looking at their watch.
“Even women show up on time” was meant to contrast with this story: https://andreasmoser.blog/2021/02/03/metropolitan-museum/
I see how this reads generalizing and sexist now. :-( Because I mainly have dates with women, I didn’t even think of putting it differently. And now, come to think of the few dates/appointments with me, some of them (not the Swiss ones) were also late. Even in Germany.
But in Switzerland, it was really scary. Once, I met a woman who wanted my address to come by. She had never been there, nor to the village, nor did she know how to get there. She said she would come by “around half past 3 pm” and find the way somehow.
The doorbell rang at exactly 15:30:00.
To the second. Swiss people find that normal, I am freaked out by it.
But I should have written “Even dates show up on time.”
You are right. I should make that “one of the parents”.
Because moms are allowed to leave their families, too, although whenever I write about that, some women protest that a mother would never leave their child alone (which is empirically not true).
Thank you for making me think about my preconceived notions! The update may only occur slowly, but your comments will have been instrumental for any positive change.
Thank you for your considered and thoughtful response. On the subject of timeliness, I do agree that there is much value and joy in a life that is not bound by timetables. I think what I was trying to say is that people don’t often have the luxury to be 17 hours late for example. I guess I speak from my own lived experience where I would turn up at the railway station at 7am to get to my class at 8 and then the train wouldn’t turn up on time and when it did, it would be awful crowded. Sure I did strike up conversations and friendships on the platform (there is always a camaraderie of strangers who take the same train or metro or bus everyday) but most often I would just be mad out stressed. So maybe a balance is what is needed.
On being punctual as well I guess I spoke from lived experience where I am always the first person to turn up at any appointment on the dot and then having to wait ages for others to appear.
On women who protest that they would never leave their child, I was very struck when as a teenager I read Henrik Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. The concept that you owe yourself some happiness.
Thank you for taking my comments in a good light.
Oh, of course! I really appreciate comments like yours.
Others just turn off, cancel their subscription or put a bomb under my car.
Maybe there should be two train networks. A punctual one for people who need to go to school/university/work, and a leisurely one for traveling the country/world and meeting people.
Or when I want the latter, I have to go to India. :-) My university is doing a field trip to Jodhpur – Udaipur – Jaipur – Agra – Delhi – Amritsar – Chandigarh – Shimla in October/November 2022. I’ll have to see if I get in, because there are usually far more applicants than places.
Ibsen was quite modern for his time, I have the impression, although I still haven’t rad any of his plays. I have wanted to keep them for when I’ll be in Norway. But this summer, I will be in Sweden, maybe I will let that count as close enough. :-)
A highly enjoyable yarn. Can’t wait for parts 2 and 3 of your trilogy. It’s like Lord of the Rings on Wheels. I used to hitch-hike everywhere in my teens. The worst experience was being stuck on the Forth Road Bridge in Scotland in a snowstorm in February. For two hours. I’ve only just thawed out. And that was in 1979. Anyway, great post. Thumbs up. Or out. As we say in the trade.
Thank you, comrade!
Part 2 is already online: https://andreasmoser.blog/2021/05/21/hitchhiking-odyssey-2/ , part will be published this Friday.
As a teenager, I wasn’t that cool yet, I only started much later. Coincidentally in East Belgium where they have these lovely blue benches for hitchhikers: https://andreasmoser.blog/2019/10/02/blue-bench/