A Necessary Evil

I had an interesting experience coming into Dublin airport from the UK on the weekend, and it was to do with one of the less exciting parts of travelling: passport control. It’s not a topic that I would say features hugely on travel blogs, and you don’t tend to discuss it much when telling stories of your travel-related adventures. It’s hardly thrilling, however my most recent situation certainly got my heart racing.

Passport control is a necessary evil. I think we can all understand the importance of this, especially in light of recent events around the globe. Each country is doing it’s best to ensure that only natives, approved individuals, or those from countries that are deemed okay are allowed to be let in. It’s fair enough – obviously not just anyone can go anywhere and stay for any period of time they like – that has chaos written all over it. So as a result, you do your research, apply for a visa (if you have to) and make sure you have a current passport that isn’t about to expire.

But despite all that preparation, you can get to that passport control desk and still be concerned that they might find some sort of reason that you shouldn’t be allowed in. At least that’s how I usually feel. My general rule is to make sure I’m prepared, with my passport and any other documents ready, whack the biggest smile on my face, stroll up to the person on the other side of the counter with confidence, yet not arrogance, and say, “Hi, how are you?”. Sometimes I’ll manage to get some light conversation flowing, other times it’s strictly business, but I do my best to ensure that I’m pleasant at the very least. I mean, these poor people have to sit there and scan through hundreds of passports, probably asking the same questions over and over, checking and stamping and then on to the next one. Like I said, some of them are great, other times you feel like a bit of a criminal, but that’s just the way it is.

I’d have to say of the various countries I’ve been to, the most relaxed I’ve been was going through passport control in London, and the most nervous I’ve been was in America (until last weekend). Typically, having a New Zealand passport is an advantage – according to Passport Index it is the sixth most powerful passport in the world, with visa-free access to 152 countries.

However, not even the shiny silver fern on the cover of my passport could dazzle the officer who held my fate in his hands last weekend. (Okay, that may be an over-dramatisation, but at one point I was concerned I could be in serious trouble). I’d been in Ireland for close to two months, left for a week to visit England, and then was returning to Ireland for a further month, before my visa for the UK commences. As a Kiwi, I’m entitled to stay in Ireland for up to 90 days without a visa. However, to cut a long story short, this particular officer wasn’t happy with my explanation for visiting Ireland, following my previous stay. I’ve no idea how long this whole situation dragged on for, but I’d guess around half an hour. During that time I was questioned, rather repetitively, had my passport taken away, my photo taken, and then it was announced I was allowed a further two weeks in Ireland before I had to be on my way. I also had to provide them with details of my departing flights as soon as they were booked. It’s safe to say it was an interesting evening – and more than once I racked my brain thinking of any law-related TV shows where someone was locked in a room and questioned, trying to get some inspiration.

All jokes aside, at the end of the day I was just pleased that I was given two more weeks, and not deported on the spot. Did I mention I was nursing a bit of a hangover at the time, also? The last thing I felt like dealing with was any of that.

Sadly, however, as is typical of me I’d left most of my sightseeing and visiting to the last month of my time here. It’s not like I’d forgotten or anything, I’d just been busy finding my feet in this new place and lost track of time…there are a few important people I haven’t had the chance to visit, and so many sights I never got so see, take pictures of and share on social media (of course). I have no doubt I’ll return to this country that I’ve grown to love, and as I claimed back my precious passport and went to pick up my suitcase from the carousel, I did come up with a new motto for myself, especially relevant while I’m travelling…

“Live like you’re going to be deported” – Me.

That’s all for now,

Jordyn x