September 29, 2022
The federal government just announced that Covid-related regulations crossing the border will end next week. It has been a nightmare to cross the border for the past couple of years. The danger of people coming to Canada with Covid infections led the government to introduce the ARRIVECAN system, mandating people to fill out a complicated form on a cell phone before arriving in Canada. The Americans responded in kind, but strangely, traveling by air into the US was allowed with a negative Covid test while traveling by car was not permitted (unless you were an American citizen).
Resulting from the different border crossing policies, I experienced the most bizarre situation last summer. I could not drive with Kathy to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina (driving from Ottawa, one has to cross the border). Since Kathy is a dual Canadian/American citizen, she drove to Dulles airport near Washington, DC while I flew there the same day. Coming home was different; we drove together and entered the country as Canadian citizens. And, of course, we had to fill out the ARRIVECAN form before crossing the border.
I have been crossing the border for dog ages; early on, when I went to graduate school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill from Vancouver, I drove south to California and then across the US on Route 66. But even before, I remember our drive to Seattle from Vancouver with my father, who informed the American border guard he’ll stay in the US as little as possible. That comment did not sit well with the official who hauled us in for questioning and then had the benefit of trying to decipher my father’s heavy accent before letting us go.
I have always had some innate fear of talking with government officials, especially police and border guards, who brought back memories of the Hungarian secret police and the aura of the heavy hand of government officials. Border crossing was a chore for me those days, not immersed in the philosophy the police and similar organizations serve you, the citizens of Canada.
I was apprehensive when, with a friend of Italian origin, we drove to Seattle with my newly minted citizenship card in the 1960s. My friend warned me that border officials would haul him in and question him because of his Italian name. Surprised to hear that, I wondered if government officials had prejudices against nationalities, including Hungarians. And so it happened; we were subject to thorough questioning, but I escaped detailed scrutiny, and they let us go. Although this incident confirmed my apprehensions, my discomfort with government officials waned in time, especially after I had joined the government in 1973.
It was easy to cross the border into the US in the old days; all you needed was identification like a driver’s license, which, of course, I always carried with me. The reverse, crossing into Canada, was the same. But sometimes you did not even need a solid piece of ID, as when my son’s friend, a recent Russian immigrant to the US, came to visit us in a rented car with neither US citizenship nor a valid driver’s license. He successfully talked his way into Canada at the border and confirmed the ease with which one could enter Canada.
Many of our family border crossings started with camping in New York State. An hour’s drive from us in upper New York State, the pine-treed campgrounds were not only cheaper to stay at than comparable Canadian facilities, but were also less crowded. And, we found wine cheaper down there and the challenge was how to import wine to Canada. Some people suggested I should fill up the water tank of our tent trailer with wine coming home, but I resisted; the water container would have had a taste of having been filled with wine, not the taste of choice of family members. (The limit for importing wine was two bottles per adult). Then we discovered ‘two-buck chuck”, the wine distributed by Trader Joe’s, the retailer in the US.
A case of two-buck-chuck, even paying the customs duties was much cheaper than anything we could buy in Canada. Most of the time, the Canadian customs officials just waved us on when we told them we had a case of wine worth US $24, altho once they told us to go into the office and fill out all the customs papers. This experience cost us ten dollars, but I found it to be a real bother and time-consuming affair as well.
My good luck of never having trouble at the border rossing nto the US ran out when I arrived at the border with my carpentry tools in the car. They immediately sent me inside and took apart my car, checking all the tools. I was going to build a deck for my son’s house, but the border officials were suspicious that I had other intentions. They were afraid that I would take jobs away from Americans. It took over an hour to get on my way; I pointed to my gray hair and said I was retired and had no intention of working and taking a job away from the locals. Further, I explained to them I had lived in the US for years but came home to Canada for my career, which was over.
Complications arose when I mentioned I had an expired draft card with a 5A rating. The younger officials knew nothing about draft cards and I tried to describe the Vietnam war and how Americans were drafted for service. This entire episode came to a hilarious end when an older border guard burst out in a boisterous laugh and explained to the younger officials what had happened in the sixties. The bottom line was that they took away the draft card I cherished and carried with me all the time when I worked in Norfolk, Virginia, in the sixties.
But the border is a two-way street and I never forget the incident when I bought a bottle of liquor at the duty-free shop coming home and the Canadian border guard asked how many ounces were in the bottle (there was a limit on how much one could bring back home). I looked at the bottle for information but could find none. I told the official I bought it at the duty-free store and had to be a size permitted for import to Canada. But he would not budge and I was ready to consume part of the bottle when he suddenly decided to just let us go, looking at the lineup behind us. As soon as we crossed the border, I felt some corrugations on the bottom of the bottle, and lo-and-behold; I found the information I had been looking for.
But next week we will go back to the old days, and a passport will be sufficient to enter Canada. The US is already open with a Canadian passport. Hurrah! Were the heavy-handed regulations preventing the entry of people with Covid useful and worth the cost of losing the tourist business? We’ll not know unless the government undertakes a study of it.
andrasthehun.ca 