fake.
“If you can write down your passport number without having to look at your passport,” the border police said smugly, “your passport is definitely fake.”
What a training, I thought. Quietly, I felt sorry for him.
The three other police were fully armed. They were at least twice my size. When they walked me – one in front, one behind, and one at my side – I couldn’t help giggling.
“It gets really boring around here,” they said. But I kept waiting for a punch line.
About forty hours later, I finally gave up.
