Siberian Walker

“I’m a worker, like you”, he said, looking at my trailer.

“I’ve walked over 41,000 kilometres around the world”. The man, tall with a grey goatie and a little tail of hair covering some baldness, summoned me to follow him up the stairs to his house. With every step I could feel the increasing anticipation.

“Carmen. Carmen, look who’s here!”

It must have been something like that, because his wife came out with a smile from ear to ear. My Italian is as good as my Arabic, but I understood her clear gesticulation. She was the one taking a photo of me walking in the centre of Genova.

“Dell’autobus!”, she nodded excitedly.

Yes! I remember our eyes meeting. The smile and the wave from the bus, almost like long lost friends meeting again. The hair with purple highlights and the phone pressed against the window, while I navigated the pavements towards Piazza del Ferrari. Yes, I definitely remember the moment. My mind was boggled. What were the chances of ending up in the house of someone who took a photo of me, three days prior and over forty kilometres away?

Carmen asked me what I would like to drink. “Bambini, wo-man”, I said, with my finger pointing to the street. It’s funny how you change automatically to baby English when someone lacks the language. Her facial expression showed confusion and surprise. Laura and the kids had walked on a bit, so I ran after them, excited to tell my wife about this amazing situation. When Max and Sofia arrived at the top of the stairs, Carmen beamed.

In the meantime, the kind man had introduced himself as Pier Luigi Delvigo. We were able to communicate in broken English and soon it became clear why he’s a worker too. He’s a ‘record’ pensioner who has been solo hiking since 2009, when he took off for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Now, what looked like a random photo out of curiosity, became understandably a picture of recognition. Carmen had seen a man who appeared to be doing something similar to what her husband had been doing for the past sixteen years, and she wanted to share this with him. It turned out that the question on the street on where to throw up our foldable bedroom, was addressed to the best possible man. A gift of the universe. 

The ‘Siberian Walker’, as insiders call him, handed me a copy of a map with the stats of his endeavours since 2009. A red line indicated where his shoes had been wearing out. There were a lot of red lines! Besides Santiago de Compostela, it showed Borghetto di Vara (hometown) to the Nordkap, Australia, Russia and a ‘Tour d’Italia’, his longest solo walk. For the latter, he averaged forty five kilometres a day, covering over 6500 kilometres in 146 days…at age 73. The list is sixteen years long. It’s nothing less than impressive, and I praised him heavily for his accomplishments.

While we were enjoying our drinks, cooking pasta was suggested. How could we say no to an Italian mother cooking us some food? It was easily the nicest pasta I ever had.

Story upon story followed. My eyes were drawn to his walking cart, which appeared to be ready and packed for the next adventure. When I looked closely, I saw that everything was held together by emergency repair. Aluminium tubes were supported by strips of metal, the tyres held in place with tie wraps, double-wrapped around the rim and through small, pierced holes in the rubber.

Pier Luigi shared with me that the first time he walked in the USA, he was repeatedly forbidden to walk on the cycle paths because…they were for cyclists. As you cannot walk on the road, the joy of walking disappeared and he returned home. 

This experience highlights how far we have removed ourselves from our natural state, which is walking. As a family, we also experience the detachment and impatience of the speedy traveller. People in cars can be noticeably annoyed by us walking on the side of the road. The stress it brings them is palpable. Cars are admired for their comfort, speed and convenience, and of course they are convenient… if you’re focused only on the destination rather than the journey. 

It reminds me of a piece I read in the past from thinker Ivan Illich. He thought a car to be counterproductive when you consider its speed. All the hours you spend to make the money to buy the car, pay for fuel, oil, tyres, maintenance/repairs, insurance, registration, car parks and, if you are unlucky, accidents. Then add the time you actually spend in the car, including traffic jams, driving in circles looking for car parks, and getting stuck behind idiots with a trailer on the side of the road. Take this total and divide it by the number of kilometres you travel and you are probably slower than someone on foot. 

Pier Luigi told us he recently returned from a second attempt in the USA, to conclude what was unfinished business. On the first night he got arrested with handcuffs and thrown into a police car for wild camping and refusing to break up his tent and move at 2am. This reminds me of a parking attendant who unlocked his pistol holster when I refused to put 20 pence in the parking metre whilst doing a 1-minute drop-off at the airport. I shall refrain from my opinion regarding situations like this in the ‘Land of the Free’.

Whilst we were getting ready to get back on the road, they pointed to a small patch of grass in the garden. It was a challenge for our large tent that doesn’t stand alone, but because we enjoyed the company so much, the solution was found; parts of the outside of the tent were removed, leaving the inner tent semi-exposed to the elements. We crossed our fingers for a dry night and the guy lines were connected to branches, fences and garden ornaments to keep it from collapsing.

At midnight the rain set in. We soaked and sucked it up, as the kids couldn’t give a fiddler’s fart and life went on.

Before we left after breakfast, I asked Pier Luigi which country he liked the most. In his eyes, the most hospitable country was Russia. One of my favourite countries in regards to hospitality is Iran. Russia and Iran, two rogue states, in the eye of the beholder. I think it’s important to separate people from political decisions.

Eitherway, I’m probably on the terrorist list now.

Peace, out.