When faced with an unfamiliar dilemma, instinct tells us to lean toward what feels predictable, toward familiar routes that promise control and safety. Yet, growth often begins precisely when that predictability runs out. Not every journey starts with a clear plan or guaranteed outcome; some begin with a question, a risk, and the quiet hope that things will come together along the way. This is the story of one such journey. This is how I learned to rely on the unreliable.
In late November, I arranged a weekend meetup with a German friend living in Berlin. We looked at the map and discovered that Kaunas, Lithuania, is quite centrally located between Tartu and Berlin. On the journey from Tartu down to Kaunas, I chose to use the simplest and most straightforward method of transportation: the bus. This trip took around 12 hours and cost me about 35 Euros.
After a pleasant weekend of avant-garde concerts and a hike around a monastery, it was time to get back to Tartu for classes on Monday. For my return, I had two options. Either I could pay for an expensive combination of trains and buses that would entail many hours of travel and layovers, or try my luck for free on the road.
Although it is known by many different names, hitch-hiking is probably familiar to most. One simply stands on the side of the road (ideally in a well-lit area with room for vehicles to stop), sticks their thumb out, optionally holds a sign indicating where they are heading, and hopes for the best!
I had some limited experience with hitch-hiking many years ago outside of Europe. However, it was an Estonian adventurer and master-hitch-hiker named Anett who inspired me to try it here. With her reassurance that making the journey from the bottom of the Baltics to the top in just one day was possible, I resolved to risk failure and logistical complications for the potential of a great experience.
As with any endeavour, the key to my success was preparation. The night before leaving Kaunas, a local Lithuanian friend I met the previous summer recommended I make a sign saying “Ryga”, the Lithuanian spelling for the Latvian capital.
Using recycled cardboard to make my sign for “Ryga”
With a population of only around 100.000, I was unlikely to find a driver going directly to Tartu from Kaunas; it was a safer bet to aim for Riga first. With my sign ready, I woke up early and headed to a spot along the highway heading North for Riga.
I arrived just after 07:00, the November morning still defiantly dark and misty. After gathering my bearings on the snow-lined road, I decided to stand just under a street light in an optimal position for passing vehicles to consider picking up a stranded student. While cars and trucks whizzed past me at speeds approaching 70kph, I enthusiastically held out my sign. Each passing hunk of steel represented an opportunity; one that would instantly reveal itself to either be a disinterested passer-by, or a generous stranger who would help ferry me to the colder, darker North.
Highway E67—The Via Baltica—leaving Kaunas, 07:00
After the first 25 minutes had passed with no cars stopping, my first pangs of worry began to crop up. Would this work? Which bed would I be sleeping in tonight? However, about five minutes later, my persistence was rewarded in the form of an 18-wheeler truck coming to a sudden stop along my stretch of the highway. I excitedly bounded over with my backpack and sign.
As the passenger-side door swung open, light poured out from the cab’s interior onto the muddy-snowy road. As I approached, a voice from inside shouted out,
“You speak English?”
Thankfully, I could confidently reply “absolutely!”
“Good”, he replied as I passed my bag up into the elevated cabin. I climbed up the ladder-like steps that took me from the roadside into a space that felt to me more like a small flat than a vehicle. I took in my new surroundings: a small potted plant sat on the comfortably sized dashboard alongside an electric kettle and mini flag stand. Several animal plushes hung from the glass and sat in their respective places along the windows. Sitting comfortably in the command position upon his throne was the captain of the ship, a cheery and affable Turkish man named Ali. He encouraged me to make myself comfortable in the passenger seat, making space for my jackets and belongings. Before long, we set off into the mist which was beginning to reveal the dark blue hues of morning twilight.
Seemingly pleased to have a guest with him, my new friend was happy to tell me all about his life as a truck driver living in Latvia. As we sailed through the Baltic countryside, the two of us spoke about our journeys, what fate had brought the two of us from our far-flung homelands to this stretch of northbound road. Along the way, Ali ensured that I would not go under-caffeinated or hungry. I was offered my choice of tea or coffee, fresh dates from his in-cab refrigerator, cookies, and even a cigarette. I expressed my pleasant surprise at his hospitality, to which he shrugged and said through easy laughter, “I am Turkish!”
Coffee, just one of several offerings from Ali
After about three hours, we were finally approaching the outskirts of Riga. The two of us discussed the point at which our journeys split, and agreed that he would pull over and drop me off at a certain stretch of highway. I climbed down the truck’s ladder and said goodbye to the first generous stranger of the day.
I felt more confident on the road with one international ride under my belt. So far, it was working! Being one country closer to Estonia, I set my sights more precisely on landing a trip to Tartu. I flipped my cardboard sign around to where I had scrawled “Tartu”, and strategically changed into my recognisable University of Tartu hoodie (available at the University of Tartu Gift Shop). Unbothered by the number of vehicles with LV tags, I stood waiting for the next car-of-fortune to come my way.
The next surprise, however, wasn’t a ride, but a text I got while waiting. I had gotten a message from none other than Anett, the Estonian hitch-hiking queen, telling me that she had just driven past me in a hitch-hiked car of her own heading South to Vilnius! I smiled, thinking that this must be some kind of sign that I was doing this the right way.
Heading to Tartu, outside Riga on E67
After about 40 minutes, a rugged-looking Volkswagen van came to a stop next to me. The young Latvian couple in the front didn’t speak much English, but we managed to communicate. I told them I was heading to Tartu. While they were only going home, they offered to drop me at a more promising stretch of road for reaching Estonia. I was invited inside and told to sit next to their little daughter. After settling in, I noticed that not only were there two young boys on board as well, but hiding inside the little girl’s jacket was a barely two-month-old puppy struggling to sleep. I quickly appreciated how trusting this family was, and I instantly felt as if I had been invited into their warm home. Communicating in English via the daughter, I came to understand that the family was, in fact, bringing their new dog home for the first time after adopting it. As we skirted along the outer roads of Riga, they proudly displayed their collection of country-themed fridge magnets, each representing a different nation they had recently visited.
Before long, we approached the spot on the highway that the family had in mind for me. Instead of calmly coming to a stop, however, the father accelerated to overtake a truck just ahead of us. More than this, while passing, the mother leaned out her window and motioned to the truck driver. After successfully passing, our van came to a stop, forcing the truck behind us to stop as well. I began to worry that this family was a bit more eccentric than I had hoped for! The father hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran over to talk to the truck driver.
I craned my head around to see what was going on, and quickly understood that nobody was upset, quite the opposite. After a quick exchange, he ran back over to the van and shared his thoughts. He explained that he saw the truck had EST license tags and asked the driver to take me with him (the driver had accepted). Astonished for the second time that day at the kindness of strangers, I hopped out of the Latvian’s car and ran over to the Estonian truck.
When I climbed into the cab of my second truck of the day, I was very pleased to be greeted with “tere tere.” It was the first time I had heard Estonian in several days. Although it is still a very new language for me, hearing it felt like home. The driver of the truck introduced himself as Laur and explained that he could take me as far as Pärnu. Reasoning that there should be plenty of traffic going from Pärnu to Tartu on a Sunday afternoon, I readily accepted his offer. The 2.5 hours passed with ease as Laur and I had many interesting discussions. He told me about his time in the army and his experience owning a trucking company. Likewise, I told him about my studies at the university and previous travels. I was happy to be able to practice my Estonian language as well as Russian skills with Laur as we drove. We slipped along the coast and over the Estonian border with ease. Before long, we came to a strategic spot on the highway just outside Pärnu in the direction of Tartu. Laur allowed me to disembark, and I made my preparations for the final leg of my journey.
Holding my sign on Highway 6, the Valga–Uulu Tee
I have often felt that all of Estonia is like one community, and my trip from Pärnu to Tartu only served to reinforce this idea. I managed to snag a ride after waiting less than 15 minutes on the shoulder of a small roundabout. The driver of the sleek and zippy Audi that stopped for me happened to be another student in Tartu named Robin who was heading back for classes after visiting his girlfriend in Pärnu. We quickly hit it off, talking about topics such as favourite artists, hobbies, and experiences abroad. The Estonian countryside vacillated between foggy and clear as we sped along towards the youth capital.
As anyone familiar with road trips knows, control of the AUX is sacred. Robin made me feel right at home by quickly offering to let me set the playlist. As he was five years my junior, I was able to introduce him to a few bands that he wasn’t familiar with. After about two hours on the road, we entered the Tartu city limits. Robin offered to take me right to my front door, as it turned out we live in the same neighbourhood. We swapped contact info, and agreed to share a beer together at some point soon.
On this journey, I did far more than save time or money. I was reminded that student life often requires trusting in things that feel uncertain at first, relying on the unreliable. Not every system is tidy, and not every plan comes with guarantees. However, with thoughtful preparation, good information, and a willingness to adapt, unpredictable situations can carry you far further than expected. Secondly, never buy into the unfriendly-Baltic hype. Nothing impresses the power of random acts of kindness like a stranger taking you out of the cold and helping you get home. Those that I encountered along my journey were the epitome of selflessness and helpfulness. Lastly, sometimes the simplest route is not the most meaningful one. If you are willing to step slightly off the map, trust others, and embrace uncertainty, you may find yourself exactly where you need to be.
All images are the author’s own.
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