Our destination was the South of France. We were keen to pitch our tent, soak up the sun and meet some
French girls. But in the meantime we were being thrown around in the back of the lorry cab. There wasn't
much room due to our huge rucksacks, the tent and Innes being over 6 feet tall.

The driver dropped us off just outside Paris and headed east. We stood on the side of a busy motorway and
stretched our battered bodies. At least is wasn't raining. With all the enthusiasm that only novice hitchhikers
seem to have, we wrote "le sud" on a piece of cardboard (four years of studying French at school had not been
wasted!) and then we waited patiently for a lift. Hitching, we decided, was the cheapest way to travel and
would also give us the opportunity to meet real French people.

Eight hours passed and we were still waiting. No one had stopped. Finally, with our enthusiasm totally drained,
and on the verge of sunstroke, a car pulled over. The driver stuck his head out of the window and told us in
broken English that we were standing on the motorway heading north. We started to walk in the direction of the
train station.

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