Australian Left Review


Through the car windscreen, I could see a roadblock with a yellow sign reading 'Douane' and a policeman looking at someone's passport, then waving them off. On the right side of the road there was a white metal house that looked like a train carriage— a police and customs station— and on a high mast beside it fluttered the new Slovenian flag. It looked improvised, but it was a main checkpoint between Slovenia and Croatia and I was crossing it for the first time. The border was brand new too: the Croatians hadn't even had time to put up a barrier on their side.



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