Saturday, March 26, 2016

Stone-faced and pot-bellied

The bus from Germany reached Netherlands without the slightest hiccup. Still getting used to good things in life like unrestricted border movements, I was surprised once again when no one stopped us for passport and visa checks. However, the way back was a different story. 

About six hours (and two cities) into crossing the German border, somewhere close to the northern fringes, the bus pulled over at a desolate place. Soon, every piece of luggage was taken out of the belly of the bus and laid on the floor. A bunch of armed, uniformed men and sniffer dogs started checking every piece of luggage. Next, we were asked to get off the bus, five people at a time, and go through another round of thorough searches. Every bag went through an X-ray machine. A couple of people had their passports checked. The uniformed men, all tall and well-built, walked around with grim expressions. Ten minutes later, we were given the clearance and allowed to board the bus again. 

And I, still feeling giggly from last night's shenanigans, got on the bus with a little bit of an unsteady gait, thankful that whatever happened in Amsterdam stayed in Amsterdam, and I had the sense not to bring a souvenir back home.


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