After Amsterdam, our families drove through Germany, to a villa in Nothweiler, in the Alsace. It was a beautiful 3 apartment cottage, set against the backdrop of dark greenery and bright stars and an inflatable pool. And sometimes, we went to France just for dinner.
We lived very close to Wissembourg, a sleepy French town with little conspicuous personality but a lot of flammenkuchen (tarte flambé). So, one night, too tired to venture out to Strasbourg, we drove across the border, and without much realization, we were in another country.
I was half expecting European paparazzi to be on our trail. "Desai's now seen in France"..."Desai's last seen in their inflatable pool in Germany."
The ease with which we traversed borders rendered the concept of political borders comical. We were hungry, and didn't pause to consider the fact that we were in an entirely new country.
"Desai's last seen stuffing their faces on their northern Europe tour."
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