wand-ering

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.

The borders may reject you, but here is a safe space.