So today I attempted to walk into Germany. After moving into Temp. Home No. 3, I took off on my daily adventure, walking a kilometre or two along the beautiful River Rhine, wishing I were on the well-manicured French side of the water. My crossing idea seemed pretty easy, except that there was a huge queue coming back into Switzerland, which struck me as problematic as I didn't have my passport. In the middle of this, a dear dear friend from Northern Ireland phoned. He whimsically suggested it would be inconvenient not to get back into the country, so I turned away and instead went to a street food festival and ate meat on a stick. On a large stick that turns into a magical wand when you scrape all the Fleisch off.
The crossing would have been easy for me. The reality is that - like in most Western nations - border guards are trained to profile and those that are penalised the most are of course the ones with the least access to assistance.
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