I left Donostia after a nice meeting at work. I bought a backpack, put most of my stuff in it and got a bocata at the bus station.I walked along the river and stood with my sign towards France.
I didn't have to wait long for my first driver of the trip. He was a young French guy who studied at Deusto university and drove back and forth to Hendaye. He was interested in big data and wanted to do a masters degree in Canada next year. He dropped me off at a very convenient place, a roundabout near the border, with some shadow.
My sign indicated Burdeaux, I had to correct it (Bordeaux) to get a lift. A small van stopped within half an hour. Three French youngsters who could drive me to Bordeaux. Yeah!
It was warm. They spoke in French but I liked their style. The driver’s seat looked like a chair in a van… sitting pretty down, he felt confident and relaxed. The co-driver was a female, feet on the “guantera”, they two talked a lot. There was another guest, sitting next to me, wearing a “gorro” that couldn't hide his curly hair. At some point we started to chat. He was a really cool guy. He had spent the last five months doing el Camino De Santiago from France and with no money. Whoa! And he had learnt a very decent Spanish in his way :) I was intrigued so it was easy to connect and talk.
I had some time to sleep as well.
My trip with ese guys finished somewhere in the surroundings of Bordeaux’s motorway ring. It rained a bit, but it didn't last long. I got some water from a pizzeria, the pizzero was friendly and actually an ex-hitchhiker. My signed said Niort París. I was excited because I had the chance to reach a friend's place and spend some time together. However, the spot was not good at all. There were many cars, but no one seemed to like me :|
At some point a guy asked me if I wanted to get a lift to a service area in the ring; I rejected the offer, I was aiming for more. An hour later I accepted a similar offer. The driver as he first person from Madagascar I have ever met. Very friendly and helpful. And scary as well… he was super interested in my route and was constantly checking it on his phone while driving. He worked as delivery guy, so he knew what he was doing, but still it was a bit scary for me.
The service area we stopped at was the first of many similar ones in France: gas station, shop or restaurant and truck parking. I sat at the exit, with the same sign, hoping to get to Niort before dinner time, but more than an hour later, the sun was down and the day was over. I bought a salad (because it had a useful fork inside) for dinner and breakfast, I set up the tent on the grass, below a tree and slept. I don't remember how well…