After Burmerange the bus comes down through wooded hills and arrives by the Moselle under grey skies.
Schengen doesn’t have a train station. This is awkward for a project that sought, at first, to see the railways as Europe’s skeleton, a working metaphor for any unity, or common identity, that may or may not exist, or be found. At Perl though, just over the
river in Germany, there is a station. A Deutsche Bahn train leaves
the platform for somewhere as I arrive. I look around the delapidated station building and cross the
tracks to take a photograph when a station attendant appears from nowhere and
begins shouting at me. The police are on their way apparently. I head back over the
bridge to Luxembourg.
Schengen is famous now, for the agreement
that facilitates the freedom of movement, of people and goods, unencumbered by the borders of its member states. I have come here to visit this place, its status in the
world turbo charged in the wake of this piece of legislation. There is a museum
here now celebrating the signing of the agreement and the EU in general. It is
mind numbingly dull. But it is the boat, The Princesse Marie Astrid, on
which the signing ceremony took place on the 14th June 1985, the day before my
eleventh birthday, that brings me here. The boat interests me. But it isn’t here after all.