Crazy Travel Stories #10: That One Time I Met an Illegal Traveler in Milan…

Over a year has passed since this event happened. To this day, I still have so many questions as to what really went on– while I wasn’t necessarily in danger, I found it to be incredibly bizarre, and I can’t help but think it was some sort of conspiracy involving customs, smuggling, or merely illegal border crossing. I have no idea what, but in any case, let’s rewind to the scenario…

It was April 2019. I had spent three nights in Milan for my holidays off from work, and I was returning to France via Flixbus, which was about a seven-hour journey. It was a direct route, but we had short stops in Turin and a small city in France before reaching Lyon, the last stop of the ride. The particular bus I took was surprisingly fully-booked, with each seat taken and cramped quarters for luggage and personal space– I guess that everyone on-board was likewise on holiday, either going to visit France or returning after Easter Break.

My seat was situated at the very back of the bus, shared with three other passengers. As I struggled to get myself comfortable in the seat (as well as position my luggage so that it didn’t take up too much space for others), our bus pulled into Turin, where more passengers got on. As if the bus wasn’t full enough…

One specific passenger stepped on the bus. He was a Chinese man (as I later found out) in his thirties or forties, clean-cut and thin. Your standard guy. However, what particularly made my senses tingle was the aura he emitted as he made his way to his seat, just a few rows ahead of mine. It was a kind of nervous energy, and it would make any observant person suspicious.

Although I did notice this man right off the bat (after all, there aren’t many Asian tourists who take Flixbus in Europe, let alone travel solo), I didn’t pay much mind to him, as I just wanted to get back to France. But then he saw me, locked eyes with me, and I felt a bit on edge.

After a second, possibly third glance, he made his way over to me. I had my headphones in, so I took them out. He asked me in Chinese if I spoke Chinese, and I replied affirmatively. I detected his mainland Chinese accent, so I knew that he wasn’t a European citizen.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he continued politely. “But I would like to ask if you could help me with something?”

Suspicious energy activated. Hesitantly, I asked, “what do you need help with?”

“Oh, well, I would like to have something translated.”

“What sort of translation?”

“From Chinese to English, at the very least.”

“Okay… may I ask what this is about?”

The man proceeded to explain his situation. He was coming from Italy (Turin, specifically), and he needed to get to Spain in order to see his father who apparently was sick and stuck in the hospital there. I had no idea what this all meant, but essentially, he wanted me to do a translation of his situation to show to the border-crossing guards when we reached the Italian-French border.

“So, will you help me?”

I was really confused at this point, but I ended up thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to help out. And even if it didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be my problem, anyway. I agreed, and he gave me his phone to write out the text that he wanted to convey to the border authorities. He dictated what he wanted to say to them, and I typed it out in basic Chinese-English translation. In essence, it read something like this:

“Hello, I am traveling from Italy to see my father, who is sick and at a hospital in Spain. I only have a bus ticket that only goes to Lyon, and I would like to know if I could purchase another bus ticket to go to Spain when I arrive at the last stop? Could you help me?”

I handed the phone back to him when I finished the translation, and he returned to his seat, looking slightly-more relieved about the situation. About half an hour later, we reached the border, and it was time to pull out our travel documents to show to the border-crossing guards. I showed the guard both my American passport and titre de séjour (French working permit), and it was fine. I peered towards the front of the bus, where the man I helped was seated, curious to see what would happen.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look so good. Whereas all of the other passengers were checked and deemed okay to pass through, this poor man was being detained longer than expected. He had given an officer his documents (from what I saw, an extremely worn-out passport and an equally-weathered travel document), and the officer was asking him a lot of questions, which he couldn’t respond due to language barrier. Whether it was French, Italian, or even English spoken to him, he couldn’t tell him anything.

The officer signaled his fellow co-worker to assist in the situation and, after a few more exchanges, the man was gestured to get his belongings and alight from the bus. He looked utterly confused, but got the message as he gathered his luggage as the rest of us regarded the strange situation. The man pulled up the translation that I wrote for him on his phone and showed it to the officers, but they shook their heads and motioned for him to get off still.

Just before he got off, the man looked at me one last time. I must’ve had a confused expression on my face, because he smiled reassuringly at me, nodded slightly as “thanks” for the help, and descended from the bus. Our Flixbus pulled away shortly thereafter, as we crossed into France– I never saw him again.

Looking back, I still have a hard time fathoming just what really happened that day. The more I think about it, the more I have an idea, although I cannot be completely sure. My best guess was that he had an expired visa, and he was trying to go illegally across the European borders (Italian-French, and later French-Spanish) for whatever reason.

Whether or not he really had a dad who was sick in the hospital, we’ll never know, but essentially, he was committing an illegal act and I, unaware of what was going on, inadvertently helped him in the process. I have no idea what happened to him afterwards: maybe he was arrested or maybe he was deported back to China. But what I know is that I’ll be cautious from now on. Innocuous as the request might seem, I do not want to interact with strangers that could jeopardize my own situation, especially in legal matters. Sometimes, saying “no” is best thing you can do for yourself.

 

— Rebecca