Customs and fear

This is what SL. told me while sipping coffee.

“This wasn’t the first time I boarded the train but this one took me through days and nights to PS.

I took the train from C. to T. early on Saturday morning in mid-August. My lovely nephews saw me off at the rail station. I always wished I could look back at the family members I was leaving. I was alone on the platform.

I had just obtained a degree in Economics from M. C University in C. This was my first trip to Europe. I had a cold and my cheap black travel bag contained my documents and some medications.

We left the train we had got on more than twenty hours before. It was time to go through the French customs.

I tried my best to sound relaxed. I showed my passport, my return ticket and my card student to the middle-aged customs officer. When he was checking them, my heart started beating wildly. I think my face was pale. I was overwhelmed by fear. I managed to answer his questions as to the purpose of my travel (sight seeing, sir). They might send me back where I came from.

Are they going to block me from entering?

I got on the French train to M.”

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