The Bulgarian border guards didn't speak English. They also didn't understood why I was sent back. It gave me some courage to at least get my backpack back. When I saw 2 more people on the Turkish side I decided to walk back and give it a try. The baksheesh border cop was human enough to walk with me to the gathering of Turkish truckers dealing with bureaucracy. I hadn't taken Ahmet's phone number, I just knew his truck was yellow. There seemed to be 100s of trucks. And I couldn't recognize Ahmet among the truckers. The baksheesh cop said (in Turkish and body language) that my truck
Whenever I set an alarm, I don't actually need it. At 5:30 I woke up, took some food from Cocina Robino, walked to the traffic lights at the Jan van Galenstraat and smiled. After about 15 minutes a painter with an Native American name listening to good old Gabber stopped for me.
We didn't leave Stockholm the time we expected. It happened a couple of days later. And even on that Sunday we were very late, I got stung by a bee in the last moment. We went to a hitch spot I found on Hitchbase, which was rather bad actually. We got a ride after a long while and ended up in Uppsala. But we didn't want to stay there, so we hitched out while it was getting dark.