Border Patrol Blues

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the captain started. This can’t be good. We were at least an hour and a half from touchdown in Sydney and the engines had not throttled back, the standard indicator of thank-God-this-is-almost-over. There was no normal reason for him to get chatty this soon.

“Sydney’s airport is closed due to thunderstorms over the field so we are being instructed to divert to Brisbane.” Nice! Others around the cabin moaned and groaned over the inconvenience but I was on the start of a ten-day vacation; I had all the time in the world and I’d never been to the capital of Queensland.

The smiles of anticipation ended pretty much as soon as we landed. We were the 5th international diversion to Brisbane which understandably wasn’t staffed for the sudden uptick in business at immigrations. The authorities were surprisingly efficient in moving the multitudes through the system until they got to me, however, when things slowed down considerably.

Horror stories regarding tightened security at immigrations are on the rise. Everything from mistaken identity to a simple lack of employment are turning away innocent tourists and their much needed money across the planet. My issue at Brisbane wasn’t my employment status but the state of my passport. The immigrations officer scribbled on my immigration card which flagged me for extra questioning. At least they were trying to be discrete instead of dragging the 6’3” American out of the queue.

I absorbed the full broadside of questions in an interview even a hardened criminal might fail. My eight-year old passport featured the old-style picture laminated to the page instead of the laser imprint kind. It was old, beaten up, water-logged and had ink running from under the picture itself, a “clear indicator” of a possible forgery in the eyes of the Brisbane officials.

Right. Multiple stamps, include repeats, from around the world and even inserted pages did nothing to tell them this was just a seasoned tourist on holiday. An “Interpol” link wouldn’t have found anything more threatening about me than a speeding ticket. I was eventually allowed to enter Australia but couldn’t help feeling like that British grandmother at Miami being called an “undesirable.”

Unemployment is not a crime. Neither is simply wanting to see the world but in this or any economy take no chances when it comes to entering a foreign country. Have a passport, period. Then read up on the entry requirements for each country, specifically if visas are also required. Make photocopies in case the original is lost or stolen.

Credit or debit cards usually suffice to show you can support yourself and finally, be ready and able to produce a print-out of your itinerary showing onward or return travel in this day of e-tickets. Even if you are unemployed and want to see the world, let them see when they can expect to see you heading in the other direction.

Gotta go!

Tourist! Clothing and Culture

Americans have the honor of being known as the worst dressed tourists in the world. I truly find that perception to be either mythical or fascinatingly frustrating. Then I looked a little deeper and discovered that there is more to it than mere outward appearance. It appears to be a simple case of tourists behaving, or in this case, dressing normally.

In the United States the line has largely blurred between indoor and outdoor attire; tourist money is still green even if your legs and arms have no business being seen. Conversely, Europeans bend to decorum when it comes to what can be worn and where. Here there are few places outside of the White House where shorts are not perfectly acceptable attire during the high summer. Throughout much of Europe the norm is not to wear them in just about any building over 100 years old, which takes care of nearly every museum, cathedral, art gallery and government building that is open to the public.

The “ugly” American kicks in over the personal desire, nay God-given right to be comfortable at all times versus sacrificing even a smidgen for the sake of protocol. Rather than having a humorous story to tell the folks back home about having to wear long pants in 100-degree heat but the museum was worth it, we leave behind hurt feelings and bad impressions on both sides in the wake of a pointless scene over shorts or going sleeveless.

Friends and I were touring Jerusalem and wanted to enter the spiritual sanctuary atop Mt. Olive. I had tried to warn our female companion that her fashionable choice of sleeveless top and mid-thigh shorts were not acceptable. She first accused me of being chauvinist then pitched a high holy fit at the gates when the attendants denied her entry to the site. We went inside while she cooled her heels, fuming about the male dominated culture of the Middle East. Uh…if she had at least read the guide book….

Fashion is a relative term. American and European senses of fashion have long clashed but Americans are probably the ones that treat vacations as a high fashion opportunity, putting clothes shopping way up on the list of things to do before boarding the plane. Here we come dressed to the nines in our studied, designer-label, layered “casual” look, when we’re not strutting around in scoop-necked tees and madras shorts, that is. Did madras shorts catch on anywhere other than the U.S? TOURIST!

“Over dressed, over-sexed and over here!” goes the saying. Save money by taking what’s already in the closet – no one will know or care that it was last year’s. Wear what the locals are wearing, which anywhere in France pretty much means black leather and jeans. And if the entire day is outside, strolling the neighborhoods, enjoying the parks and eating from street vendors, shorts are fine. Otherwise, long pants and long sleeves are appreciated the moment you enter any building other than a 7-11.

Gotta go!

Music and Me

My first relocation was from Kansas to Germany when I was only 18 months old. I didn’t that from then until now I would average a change of address every 18 months of my life, from as long as 9 years to as little as 10 months. Music helps me remember.

Like many others I’ve come to associate certain songs with specific places, either for a specific memory or due to a general feeling. I don’t have a song for every city or country I’ve visited or lived in but here is a sample list and the reasons why:

Indianapolis – “These Eyes” by The Guess Who. They and Three Dog Night were all over the radio in the late ‘60s and early 70s when my family lived here. I liked “These Eyes” better than “Joy to the World” or “Domino” by Van Morrison.

Dallas – “In the House of Stone and Light” by Martin Page. It was 1994 and I was about to move from Dallas to Los Angeles. It anchored me to Dallas while setting the stage for life in L.A, echoing in a way the journey of the man in the song.

Atlanta – “Boogie on Reggae Woman” by Stevie Wonder. You couldn’t find a bigger artist in 1974 when my family lived here for just under a year.

New York – “Piano in the Dark” by Brenda Russell. It caught me as I was walking along 43rd heading for the office. The lilting jazz simply said this is how New York must feel.

Los Angeles – “Tinseltown” by Ronnie Jordan. Funky jazz instrumental that made the year I lived in L.A. quite positive. This was a “go-to” when things weren’t going well.

Heidelberg – “Strawberry Letter 23” by the Brothers Johnson. It was my first “grown-up” funk album and, along with “This Will Be,” “Best of My Love,” “Get Down Tonight,” “Getaway” and “Jive Talking” made 1975 a very upbeat year along the Neckar.

Boston – “Giving You the Best That I’ve Got” by Anita Baker. This was a rough year for me but Anita got me through. It was warm and smooth in a rough, cold place.

London - “White Ladder” by David Gray. I was in London on business when “Babylon” first caught the ear of the world. I liked this one better and felt it my own personal link to the city.

Paris – “Another Day in Paradise” by Phil Collins. I was staying with a friend for a few days here while this tune was all over the radio. Collins wrote a perfect paradox about the hardships of the disenfranchised versus the everyday lives of others.

I can’t wait to find out what song will connect me with Rome or Moscow!

Gotta go!