Here is the full reference card for this book...
If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.
Friendly Foreigners
by Elo K. Glinfort; Illustrated by Jim Callighen
171 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0651; ISBN 1-4120-2823-x; US$18.00, C$20.50, EUR15.00, £10.50
The humorous, tongue-in-cheek story of the adventures of two students hitch-hiking through post-war Europe and all the interesting people they met.
Read more!
About the Book About the Author Excerpts Catalogue Information
About the Book
This is the story of an adventure filled, good humoured three months hitchhiking trip my friend Per and I made through Europe in 1949 on a very small budget.
The impetus for the trip was an offer from our mutual employer for the two of us to travel to Frankfurt Am Main to re-establish a pre-war Danish monopoly from the German refrigeration giant ATE. The timing was perfect: Per had just graduated as an accountant, and I had finished first part of Law.
After a successful stay in Frankfurt we continue by train to Basel, Switzerland, where the hitchhiking begins. We visit a farmer high in the mountains; laboriously climb the St. Gotthard pass to finally secure a lift with a young Norwegian for a wild ride down the mountain into the Tizino Valley in Italy.
Arriving in Milan, we are arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fortunately we are rescued from any in-depth acquaintance with the jail by a friend of Per's father, who's hospitality quickly obliterates our first impression of the city.
Proceeding to Genoa, we befriend some seafaring countrymen, and become guests of the international crew on the oiltanker Esso Bea. Unfortunately our innocence and lack of experience with "loose" women lead us into an embarrassing situation, where a collection is taken up on our behalf for a purpose we never suspected.
In Pisa we run into - literally - a French student, who on parting gives us an address in Paris, which turns out to be very helpful. Leaving town, we have quite a time helping a lady in distress changing a fat tire.
Thanks to some over-eager attempts to expand our limited knowledge of Italian, we miss an opportunity for cheap accommodation in Rome, the city I mostly remember as the place where I learned to eat tomatoes.
Heading north again we are lucky to retrieve a lost poodle to its titled owner, resulting in an overnight stay at an impressive estate near Rapallo. We continue along the coast to Menton, France where we arrive in a semiconscious state after a strenuous late, late night walk around the mountain from Ventimiglia, Italy.
We check into what we believe are modest lodgings, only to wake up in the bridal suite of a five-star hotel. Naive insistence on seeing the owner leads to four days in the laps luxury at no cost, and to meeting some interesting people.
Without realizing it we are in a race to Marseille, where we turn down a chance to "hammer rust" on a ship to Algiers. Instead we saunter through the Rhone valley to Lyon, and thanks to some university students get a memorable ride on a truck loaded with peaches destined for Les Halles in Paris.
Paris turns out to be extremely hospitable, offering sixteen days in an apartment, which we transform into a "Nouveau Art" exhibit without the owner's knowledge or permission, but fortunately to his eventual approval.
Leaving town we join some French hikers for a culinary adventure, and after a short and highly compressed ride cross the border to Belgium. Near Mons we are treated to a most unusual public bath and much more in a friendly neighbourhood.
In Bruxelles we secure a ride to Amsterdam, staying overnight as guests of the driver, who delivers us to the railway station that following morning. Unfortunately there is no train to Denmark until the next day. Our meagre funds exhausted, we are forced to use ingenuity and athletics to find lodgings for this night.
We finally return to Denmark convinced that most people are basically friendly, honest, trusting and helpful - a conviction I have retained to this day, in spite of the many exceptions I have met over the years.
About the Author
Born in Denmark in 1928, Elo K. Glinfort studied law at the University of Copenhagen and criminology and social work at the University of Toronto after arriving in Canada in 1955.
Spanning all facets of criminal justice, he has been a probation and parole officer, director of a private after-care agency and superintendent of Ontario's treatment centres for drug addicts, alcoholics and sex offenders.
After fourteen years as Director of Planning and Intergovernmental Affairs and Senior Consultant on Criminal Justice for the Canadian Federal Solicitor General's Department he took an early retirement in 1987 to pursue a lifelong interest in ancient history, travel, golf and writing.
He lives with his wife, Dorothy, in villages of Glancaster in Mount Hope, Ontario.
Excerpts
PARIS
It is a long way from Lyon to Paris; but when you sit on a wooden board in the back of a truck loaded with peaches and with scant room to change position, it is a very long way.In the beginning, of course, there was the landscape to watch - and peaches to eat! A stop for gas after a couple of hours drive provided a welcome diversion and an urgently needed quick visit to the little boys room.
Much later, the dinner at a roadside inn was not only a delicious meal, but an opportunity to exchange a few words with the taciturn driver and his helper, who graciously paid our bill.
The robust country wine put us in a mellow mood, and we were quite cheerful, when we again climbed aboard the truck and squeezed into our tiny spaces.
Suddenly I discovered that I had left my student cap, with all my classmates names inscribed on the inside, somewhere in the restaurant. I cried for the driver to wait - but it was too late. He had started the motor and couldn't hear me. Mournfully I stared back at the inn until it disappeared in the growing darkness, somehow sensing that I had lost that priced possession forever.
It was already too dark to see anything but the occasional village street as we rattled through. To pass the time we played word games and ate peaches. Afterwards we discussed geniuses who did poorly in school such as Einstein, Newton, Edison and Pascal. Then we ate some more peaches and tried to remember all the inventions left in code by Leonardo da Vinci. Finally we just sat and stared into the dark, lost in our own thoughts and munching on the occasional peach as the miles slipped by.
It was not yet midnight when I heard the first rumblings from Per's stomach and felt the first twinges in my own.
Soon after, however, an emergency was in the making. There was no way of communicating with our driver, so we had to handle the situation as best we could.
As my need was most urgent, I let Per rummage through his backpack for paper, while I tied my belt to a crate, stripped and crawled up on the tailgate. Holding on to the belt I balanced my seat precariously over the sharp edge of the tailgate, praying that we wouldn't hit a bump in the road. It wasn't a second too early. With a sigh of relief I leaned back, just as the truck swerved to pass a slower car. Grasping the belt with both hands I pulled frantically to avoid sliding over the edge. The sudden, added strain loosened the crate at the other end. I howled in panic as it slowly began to slide towards me. Per jumped up and put his back against the crate. At that moment the scene was suddenly illuminated by the headlights of the car we passed. Sliding back into the truck, I thought I heard a scream. Or maybe it was the sound of screeching brakes as the car weaved across the road and stopped on the opposite shoulder, quickly disappearing from view. I have convinced myself that the driver merely was temporarily overwhelmed by the unexpected sight and didn't suffer any real harm in the end.
As usual when it was Per's turn, the whole thing proceeded smoothly, wrapped in darkness, and witnessed only by the stars.
--------------- In spite of the cramp in my legs I must have dozed off, because suddenly we stopped on a large square next to a row of similar trucks to ours. I looked at my watch. It was nearly 4:00 A.M. We had arrived at the famous Paris market, Les Halles.
Catalogue Information
