Weds 30th Sept
I am in a lorry shuffling South down the autoroute towards Tours with my friend Alex. We are destined for Barcelona, where a No Borders Gathering will start tomorrow afternoon. We intended to leave on Monday, but I wanted to stay a little longer to help support the hunger-strikers (see last post). I intended to leave last Friday, but have been holding out for Alex, who has a damaged foot after being dragged through a fire by police during the Pashtun Jungle destruction. A hot coal got caught in his sandal and he was unable to explain to the police that his foot was on fire because he was held in a headlock and was unable to breathe.
The foot is now a lot better, the limp is diminished and after a five hour wait (my longest ever!), we are finally out of Calais. I was really starting to think it wouldn´t let us leave, especially when a CRS van stopped next to us and deterred the one lift we were offered in the first four hours from taking both of us because it´s illegal to have three in a cab.
2nd Oct, morning
Just hit Pyrenees. Mountains and fourty-ton trucks make my heart skip a beat. Something about what they represent to me – freedom and shifting horizons.
Now we are speeding towards summer – me, Alex and our Hungarian truck driver. Eurythmics on the radio, “here comes the rain again”, but not a cloud in sight. The sun burns my face through the glass and makes me smile. South, south, south, as the rosary swings in the windscreen and we muddle through conversations about mafia encounters, barely understood in our mish-mash dialect of Españ-Itali-Eng-arian.