Borders in Eastern Europe. Here dwells the old authority. The middle of nowhere, far from prying eyes. Absolute power in all its absurdity.

A border guard asked for a passenger list.
- A passenger list!? We are only five people, we have our passports. This is a private bus.

Didn’t matter. He didn’t care. What to do? We write him a list of the passengers and handed it over.

- Are you ridicouling me!? You are laughing behind my back! I will have your bus in custody for two weeks!

Johan went after him and tried to calm him down. He came back. Asked if we had stopped laughing now and asked or the same list again. Same story again. Private bus, five people, this is our passports.

Apart from the original five guards, two more has now arrived plus one cop and three people of unknown authority. They search every bag and every corner of the bus. You can tell they really want to find something and are certain they will.

After a while though they gave up. Angry border guard walked up again, looked at our insurance papers, the green card and asked - “Do you need this?”  - showing the paper certifying that the bus is surveyed.

- Yes, sure, we said, and he took it and left saying that we could all “go back to sweden and smoke all your ciggarettes and marujana”. We asked for our passports, got them and got the hell out of there.

The certificate? We just printed a new one from the PDF.

/Your Correspondent