Once or twice a day drivers suggest to me that hitchhiking would be so much easier if I crossed the road and walked with traffic, not against it.
I know I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer (witness how long it took me to realize those weren’t bottles of apple juice, and that Sarıgül was not the object of some lovesick man’s obsession), but I hope that after six months on the road even I’d pick up on that one.