Passport

While my passport is at the Chinese consulate, I'm temporarily grounded. While it's probably possible to drive to Buffalo and catch a domestic flight within the US from there, I'm not going to take a chance. Not these days, when a day of jet-skiing can land you in detention.

Sometimes it's easy to forget the significance of having a passport, or the potential problems of having the "wrong" one.

Like at the UK Immigration checkpoint at Gare du Nord in Paris, where a Canadian passport gets a cursory inspection, a couple of gruff questions, and a Channel Tunnel stamp. Meanwhile, the "Asian" family [in Canada, the more commonly-used term would be "South Asian"] right behind, with green-coloured passports, gets the third degree.

Aside from US Citizenship and Immigration, the last time I felt this personally was in Iceland. As the European Union expands, certain countries have become very defensive, with their immigration policies and increased scrutiny of non-Schengen passports.

As I handed over my passport, I watched the officer flip through, waiting for something to happen. Waiting, until he reached the page with the US work visa. He did not try to hide his "wow" reaction, but let me through. It was a long wait though, for my new friend Haya.

While in the clearance area behind the booths, we were both pulled aside again. Couldn't help but notice that they picked out the two non-Scandinavians. Passports were taken for photocopying, no doubt to be added to an immigration watch list.

At the end of the trip, that passport is still the only universally accepted ticket home.