Gears for Queers by Abigail Melton

Author:Abigail Melton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781912240975
Publisher: Sandstone Press Ltd
Published: 2020-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Day Forty-Five, Kehl

I stood on the modern bridge, one foot in Germany, the other in France. In Great Britain, with the sea defining our borders, it was easy to forget how artificial they truly were: invisible lines drawn, and redrawn, down rivers or across mountain ranges. It was the first time I had stood across a border between two countries, a feat made easy and possible for me by the EU and freedom of movement. It felt symbolic of some of the things we were losing through Brexit. I looked out at the still water and at the padlocks which spanned the rails of the bridge, each a tiny moment of love, of friendship, of unity. I was furious with the people who had lied and tricked and cheated others into believing that the UK was better off on its own. I was furious that racism and xenophobia had once again been such an effective political tool – one that overshadowed everything else; one that continued to protect a system which only cared for the rich and powerful. This move towards fortifying borders, rather than dismantling them, was a step towards a terrible future. Borders were a mechanism of capitalism, colonialism, war, slavery, genocide, pain and death; this was obvious enough to anyone who had ever studied British history.

I felt a deep sense of powerlessness, of hopelessness and sadness rise, peak and wane. I tried to shake it off. I moved my left foot across and walked into France.

I wasn’t used to the slow pace of being off my bike. Despite my sore feet, the long walk into the town was enchanting. We passed through the greenery of Le Jardin des Deux-Rives before following the main road into the centre. We passed flowing canals and broad thoroughfares. I hummed the opening song to Beauty and the Beast, excited to be exploring a French city and pleased that its picturesque scenery met all my expectations. We were lucky to quickly find an English language bookshop where we eagerly grabbed our next long reads.

The historical centre of Strasbourg is a chocolate box of narrow cobbled streets and ancient wooden houses. The cathedral, one of the tallest in the world, peaked out from the alleys and over the rooftops of the buildings. Its unusual stone gleamed pink in the sunlight. We took photos, capturing the Gothic frontage and large round rose window and enjoyed being tourists. Cycle touring had its ups and downs, but travelling slowly like this allowed us to see so much more of the countries we travelled through.

I pulled Lili over to a glass shopfront. Beautiful French patisserie enticed hungry tourists inside. I looked at Lili and pulled an exaggerated sad face. It would have been lovely to try some.

‘C’mon, I’ll take you somewhere vegan.’ They grabbed my hand.

We began marching to a far-flung suburb. An hour later and I was beginning to get tired and irritable; my legs could only take so much exercise on a rest day.

‘This better be the best vegan restaurant we’ve ever been to.

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