August 20, 2002
It's hard to love my little, green passport. I'm proud of it, but, let's face it, travelling as a South African can be a pain in the bum. Literally. Whereas your EU book will get you a wave through almost any customs gate, my "Congo" passport (so called because I can't go anywhere without a visa) pretty much guarantees me a free prostate exam.
Continue reading "... because emigrating means never having to say you're Sarie".
