When can you let down your guard when you travel? In your hotel room? On public transport? At passport control? When you\u2019re in a group? Never?
The tea was hot, the cream seemed fresh as I shared my digestives with Alec, the terrorist. I\u2019d been waiting for him in the Dover tea shop for twenty minutes, and now we sat huddled in a booth, our backpacks slumped against the wall. We poured tea into cups and ate the sweet, graham-crackery biscuits like grateful refugees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was glad to be back in an English-speaking country. In Salerno, Italy, I\u2019d seen the headline, \u201cE MORTO IL PAPA!\u201d It was August of 1978 and Pope Paul VI had just died. People would be rushing to Rome and St. Peter\u2019s Square; it was time to hightail it home. Alec stroked his teacup, keeping his eyes on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
He pulled another digestive from the wrapper and snapped the biscuit in half. The tea shop was quiet. Alec sat chewing. The street down the hill to the ocean was dappled in sunlight. People lay on the pebbly beach on huge, striped towels. A phone rang in the back of the shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Days before, back in Paris, I was heading for London when I\u2019d met Alec in the sweltering Gare du Nord waiting room. It was midnight, and a knot of sullen Algerian laborers slouched in the other chairs. They never spoke, never seemed to close their eyes, just watched us. The next train to Calais wouldn\u2019t leave for seven more hours, so we took turns using the bathroom, guarding each other\u2019s seats and packs. Alec brought me rolls and coffee without asking, me falling all over myself with thanks like he\u2019d made Christmas dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alec poured another sugar packet into his tea. I gripped my cup and looked away. The cops must have watched us as we left the boat and separated at passport control. I\u2019d been so relieved to leave Paris, get on the train, and return to England. I\u2019d finally felt safe. I\u2019d counted on Alec to keep me away from the Algerians at the train station. Now it turned out he<\/em> was the one who needed protecting. When are you finally safe out on the road? I suddenly didn\u2019t want to travel anymore: no more politics, police, popes dying, former colonials raging, differentness<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alec looked up at me, his eyes red, humiliated, furious. \u201cMy next trip out,\u201d he whispered, \u201c I bloody will<\/em> be carrying a bomb.\u201d It was a statement too big for either of us. We finished our tea, staring out the window, the shop phone ringing again with no one answering. We stood and murmured goodbyes. He shouldered his rucksack and headed for a bus to Brighton, where he said he knew somebody. I cinched the straps of my backpack and headed for my train to London. A cop watched us.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When can you let down your guard when you travel? In your hotel room? On public transport? At passport control? When you\u2019re in a group? Never? The tea was hot, the cream seemed fresh as I shared my digestives with Alec, the terrorist. I\u2019d been waiting for him in the Dover tea shop for twenty […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[17],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1162","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-united-kingdom-and-ireland-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1162","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1162"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1162\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1212,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1162\/revisions\/1212"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1162"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1162"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1162"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\u201cDid you have some trouble at passport control?\u201d I said. \u201cYou were so late, I . . .\u201d
\u201cYes, I had a lot<\/em> of bloody trouble at passport control. The buggers strip-searched me.\u201d
\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d I\u2019d never heard of strip-searching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey\u2019re<\/em> British, and I\u2019m<\/em> from Belfast, so they thought I must be carrying a bomb. I had to take off all my clothes, and they fingered me all over. That\u2019s<\/em> what I\u2019m talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey asked me if I\u2019d gotten a leg over you,\u201d he said.
\u201cWho did? Whose leg?\u201d Couldn\u2019t he just speak normal English?
\u201cThe bloody policemen<\/em>. They asked if we\u2019d had sex.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n