Our drive over the Canadian border on our way to Ottawa last week was one of our easiest. We crossed at a small port of entry, the guard was very helpful, and she even opened up a lane so there would be no wait time. She asked the usual questions: where are you going in Canada, how long will you be there, what is your country of origin, where do you live, do you have any alcohol, tobacco, firearms, etc. I answered the questions dutifully and we breezed through.
At other Canadian border crossings in the past it hasn’t always been that easy. My husband is not only Canadian but he is also blind, so I am the designated driver. I don’t particularly like driving, and I really don’t like playing twenty questions with border guards. When our children were small and we were driving to visit my husband’s parents in Westport, Ontario, I got myself into some hot water after handing the border guard all of our birth certificates (this was before passports were required). He kept looking at the birth certificates and then back at us, for several minutes. Keep in mind that all four of us have the same last name (and an unusual one at that), and that our children’s birth certificates clearly state that we are their parents . . . so when the guard asked me in what I considered to be a slightly accusatory tone: “why are these children traveling with you?” I must admit that my tone was a tad sarcastic when I said: “Uh, because they’re our children?” Nonetheless, he let us keep the kids and continue on into Canada.
A few years ago we drove to Montreal for my father-in-law’s memorial service. We stopped at the duty free shop before we crossed the border and bought some whiskey and beer for the get-together after the service. When we got to the border crossing, I was in a chatty mood (not good) and tried to joke a bit with the border guard (never do this). He asked if we had any alcohol to declare, and I told him what we had just purchased at the duty free shop. Then he asked us if we had any gifts, and I said “well, just the beer and whiskey.” SLAM. It was at that moment that I learned that you are not allowed to bring gifts, especially alcohol, into Canada without paying taxes on them. I tried to talk my way out of it by telling the guard that we would certainly be drinking the beer and whiskey along with my husband’s relatives, but nothing I said would dissuade him. He motioned me to drive over to the office to pay the taxes due; I did so and went inside to learn my fate. Fortunately for me, the man behind the counter there was much more understanding, and said in a slightly conspiratorial tone, “now only the BEER is a gift, right?” I looked at him blankly, and then realized he was trying to cut me a break. “Yes!” I said – “only the beer is a gift!” thereby paying much less tax than I would have otherwise.
Only recently I found out that unbeknownst to us, we had been bringing contraband from Canada into the United States for many, many years, in the form of candy — specifically Kinder Surprise chocolate eggs. Kinder Surprise eggs are hollow chocolate eggs that house a plastic container that holds parts of a toy. Years ago the toys were pretty complicated, and might take an adult ten minutes (or a child five minutes) to put together. Before we left on this trip, I read about a woman who tried to bring one of these foil-wrapped treats from Canada into the U.S. and was almost fined $300, because they are banned in the United States. This trip, like all others, we got some Kinder eggs, but instead of illegally bringing them across the border, we opened them in Canada. To our horror, we discovered that the toys have been dumbed down, and are now either one piece or two pieces – nothing like the elaborate peacock we put together once.
On this trip, after visiting my mother-in-law in Ottawa, visiting cousins in Peterborough, and dropping our son off in Toronto, it was on to Oakville to take our daughter to college. Three years ago, her first year of college there, she had her passport but NOT her Canadian citizenship card, which made for another “trip to the principal’s office” at the border crossing; thankfully it was straightened out in no time. Last year when we crossed the border she had her passport and her Canadian citizenship card. The border guard looked at her citizenship card, then at her, and proceeded to pronounce the picture “sad” and suggested she update it (in the picture she is two years old).
In Oakville we had a farewell lunch with our daughter, then headed south to go home. There are several bridges to the U.S. in the Niagara Region, and we wanted to avoid the two that were reported to have back-ups. Our Garmin-suggested detour directed us to a craggy, country road that was undergoing major repairs, but we eventually found the bridge to take us to New York State.
We had no problem crossing the border back into the States. They asked us where we had traveled, and how long we were gone, and the only contraband we carried this time was a piece of my mother-in-law’s fruit cake.
barbara snyder says
Surely they didn’t tax FRUITCAKE!!!!!
James says
MMMM Fruitcake
MBTroup says
So chocolate candy with choking hazards embedded in them are not FDA approved? Whodathunkit?!
Mrs. Sempera says
I’ve always wondered where border officers receive their training. My family and I always joke about our border stories. Whenever one of us gets a smile when crossing, we conclude by saying: awwww…you’re so lucky!
Sarah Madden says
Great story — I love your writing style!!
Frank Gerber says
Kinder Eggs illegal ? I’m going to have to find out how my sister gets them for us at Christmas every year for the last fifteen. I’d hate to see this fun family tradition go by the wayside. I think I would missit almost as much as I miss the Christmas biscotti we used to get from those nice people at Creative Cookery, before they closed.
Lynn says
Me, too! Can I go on the next trip? I’ll chip in for gas.
Ken Noble says
Brings back memories of June, 1979 for me, Liz….and the multitude of you other LIZ READERS. (I mean the girl is LIKE going viral, man). I had just finished “coaching” 18 Akwesasne Mohawks in their bid to win the Iroquois Nations Tournament in Ithaca. I put coaching in quotes, because honestly, how can a honky from Annapolis TEACH Mohawks anything about lacrosse….they taught ME a lot more than I taught them. I think we beat the Senecas and lost to the Onondaga by a couple, but the boys decided to honor their coach (me) by making me a blood brother of the Turtle Clan of the Akwesasne Mohawk Nation. The Akewesasne Mohawk Nation straddles the St. Lawrence River on both sides of the border near the top of New York State.
The following Saturday the boys took me in a pick up truck, all of us, up over the border from Hogansburg, New York to see famous Uncle Mike Benedict’s lacrosse “factory” (his garage and back yard) on the Cornwall Island, Canada side of the Akwesasne Nation. We breezed right through Canadian customs with me in the middle of the bunch of Mohawk teenagers. It was a great afternoon tour and an honor to meet Mike Benedict. I had used one of hiss sticks in my first year of lacrosse in Annapolis and I had actually seen him play against the Maryland Arrows of the old NLL summer box lacrosse league at the Capital Centre, Largo, Maryland.
Well on the way back there were not as many passengers, some of boys opting to visit Canadian family and girl friends on Saturday night. It was not as easy to disappear in the back of the truck as we approached the US Border patrol gate, I was told to “Just nod and look tough tell the guy you are a ‘skin'”. As in “redskin”, a term that the Mohawks actually cherished then. I just could not get myself to lie to a guy in that official capacity or fake like I was more than just an honorary Turtle clam member. I should AT LEAST not have answered honestly that I was born in Nice, FRANCE…….ooops (remember “Freedom Fries”?). What a mistake on my part. Telling the truth. My answer held up another uncle, the driver of the pickup truck, for 30 minutes while I got grilled about why in tarnation would anyone want to visit Mohawks, anyway. Such cultured and educated border guards we had (have?).
A few weeks later I again met lacrosse stick maker and player Mike Benedict, this time on the National Mall at the Smithsonian Folk Life Festival, where he was demonstrating lacrosse stick making. I told him the border events after my visit to his backyard “factory”. He guffawed and slapped his knee and laughed himself to tears for awhile and then turned rock stone “injun” faced and said, “Ken, I don’t know why either one of THOSE COUNTRIES think that they have a right to put their officers inside of OUR COUNTRY.” I will never forget his serious tone on the nationhood issue. Who was at Akwesasne way before a France, an England, a Canada OR a USofA? I also will never forget his whit and skill, on and off the box court. RIP Mike Benedict, Sr. A great good brother, artisan, athlete and philosopher of the AKWESASNE MOHAWK NATION.
By the way, for a GREAT MOVIE about this part of the world and a bit about the Mohawk Nation and their history as a well as a great segue into Liz’s LAST piece about really bad jobs, see “FROZEN RIVER”. One of the few movies EVER that brought this Turtle Clan member to tears.