It's funny seeing different people's reactions to me, specifically to me hitchhiking or busking (although I am fully aware that I am rather scruffy and stinky at all times and a likely candidate for judgement). When hitching, some people drive past without looking, keeping their eyes steadfastly on the road. They make me invisible in their own minds. Others gesture that their car is too full, that they're turning imminently, or wave their hands in a way that probably has some meaning in their own head, but is indecipherable to me. Some raise their hands and shrug their shoulders as in apology for their complete inability to take me in their spacious, empty car. 'I just can't, for no apparent reason' they seem to say. A lot of older folks smile at me, amused by my naiveté or courage, or at memories of their own adventures. Some look at me with disapproval or amazement. An Asian girl driving past had her mouth open, her eyes wide, such disbelief on her face I had to laugh. (I imagined her as youtube's 'Sassy Gay Friend' who always says, 'What, what, what are you doing!?') And, of course, there are those who pick me up.
These generally fall into two categories: middle-aged farmers and young tourists. There are a few exceptions of course, like the Social Studies teacher who drove me and another hitcher from Lake Tekapo almost all the way to Wanaka. He was one of the quiet ones, happy to just sit and enjoy the passing countryside. But most drivers either feel a kinship to hitchhikers because they are also young people traveling the world on a budget, or feel a responsibility to caring for us, because they are farm folk and watch out for their neighbors and want to represent NZ positively. Some do it for the company - I had one man thank me for being a passenger - and others simply do it to provide a service to a fellow human being and to keep us safe, like the teacher.
I don't think I'll ever hitchhike in America, but it's been a wonderful way to get around here, to meet people and not break the bank. Busking has been quite similar. I get similar reactions, although less pronounced. It's less dangerous to give some spare change to a busker than to pick up a dirty backpacker on the road. But the categories remain the same, the disbelief, the amusement, the disapproval, the support.
And, like hitchhiking, it's a great way to get around. I've been breaking even lately, supporting my town visits with my violin (whose name, by the way, is Esmerelda, named for the musical but somewhat scruffy gypsy girl in Hunchback of Notre Dame). I can earn enough now to pay for my hostel and town food, only breaking into my savings to buy supplies for out of town. But today, I've come to Wanaka for the express purpose of saving money for bungee jumping in Queenstown. A new fund. Wish me luck!
These generally fall into two categories: middle-aged farmers and young tourists. There are a few exceptions of course, like the Social Studies teacher who drove me and another hitcher from Lake Tekapo almost all the way to Wanaka. He was one of the quiet ones, happy to just sit and enjoy the passing countryside. But most drivers either feel a kinship to hitchhikers because they are also young people traveling the world on a budget, or feel a responsibility to caring for us, because they are farm folk and watch out for their neighbors and want to represent NZ positively. Some do it for the company - I had one man thank me for being a passenger - and others simply do it to provide a service to a fellow human being and to keep us safe, like the teacher.
I don't think I'll ever hitchhike in America, but it's been a wonderful way to get around here, to meet people and not break the bank. Busking has been quite similar. I get similar reactions, although less pronounced. It's less dangerous to give some spare change to a busker than to pick up a dirty backpacker on the road. But the categories remain the same, the disbelief, the amusement, the disapproval, the support.
And, like hitchhiking, it's a great way to get around. I've been breaking even lately, supporting my town visits with my violin (whose name, by the way, is Esmerelda, named for the musical but somewhat scruffy gypsy girl in Hunchback of Notre Dame). I can earn enough now to pay for my hostel and town food, only breaking into my savings to buy supplies for out of town. But today, I've come to Wanaka for the express purpose of saving money for bungee jumping in Queenstown. A new fund. Wish me luck!