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Border security

By Addison Holmes - posted Thursday, 23 February 2012


"We need to see your work permit."

I was asked this not to enter Australia, but to leave. Post 9/11, airlines got pernickety about passengers boarding their flights without a return ticket to their home country.

This is actually a long-standing regulation, but was rarely enforced in the past.

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Without proof I was employed overseas, Qantas wanted me to buy a return flight back to Australia to enable me to board my flight to Europe. My Swiss work permit was left in Europe in a drawer in my apartment. Why, I had thought, would I need it in Australia while on holiday?

I would have been happy to stay in Australia, but my sister had already driven away from the airport after dropping me off, and the night before in a fit of pique brought on by my impending departure, I had bought copious rounds at the pub to get rid off all my remaining Aussie coins and notes.

And I did have to get back to my job in Switzerland.

I argued with the Qantas representative that since I had a stop over in Singapore, my onward journey was Singapore's problem.

The young overly meticulous girl at the check-in counter - who was getting uncomfortable with the growing line behind me wanting to check baggage in while we argued - happily delegated responsibility of international carriage law interpretation onto another country and gave me my seat number.

It was the first time a country ever tried to stop me leaving.

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Though each time it's difficult mentally to leave my country of birth.

You lose parts of your Australian culture the longer your remain overseas. Partly it's because of age and effort, partly through lack of cultural events or experiences to sustain you.

I do try though to keep touch of goings on in my country of birth.

When I first moved over to Europe, I would make an effort to see Test cricket matches in an Anglophone pub. But long gone are the days when I could sit on a couch for five days to watch a Boxing Day test. 20/20 is an abomination to the purity of the game, which I would not watch.

Waking at 4.30am in the morning to see an Aussie Rules final in a pub is not working for me anymore, especially as my team have failed to make the finals in 15 years.

Trying to follow Australian politics is slightly depressing as Australian news websites generally seem to value scandal over substance, or any interesting analysis is hidden behind pay firewalls.

What I really used to enjoy was the monthly BBQ and drinks session for Aussie residents at the local Australian embassy. After 9/11 however, these were ended. The embassy said this was for security reasons, but I suspect that the cost of supplying some 70 Australians with imported Australian meat and beer became prohibitive.

And frankly, judging by the parade of drunken parliamentary delegates on travel junkets that joined us each month, the event became slightly embarrassing for the ambassador.

These may seem frivolous and small aspects of remaining in touch and of little value, but they are somewhat important when far away.

But as a new country, defined mainly through its immigrants over the past 200 years, it is unclear what one is searching for when away to hold on to as an Australian.

I see us everywhere though. I don't mean chance meetings with Australian professionals and experts, who seem to turn up everywhere - I was once on an internal United States flight between to small towns and still happened to sit next to a scientist from Canberra.

I mean I see us everywhere in other nationality traits.

We have a healthy disrespect for authority that is always refreshing, just like the French.

We appreciate time off and holidays, like the Spanish.

We have an appreciation and place a lot of value on nature, just like the Norwegians.

We have a robust parliamentary system and gregarious press, just like the British.

We have a special bravado and can-do attitude, just like the Americans.

We define ourselves by our sporting prowess like, well, the New Zealanders.

So what really defines us? And what is it that I try to find when overseas for extended periods?

I guess it is best summed by an event on one of my visits home.

My wife and I flew into Tullamarine for Christmas with our newly born daughter.

We were all jetlagged and laden down by the weight of baby bags and other paraphernalia associated with one year olds. A large line loomed before us for non-residents to pass through with their passports. The Australian residents' line was virtually empty.

While my daughter has an Aussie passport, my wife doesn't. Despite this, I walked up to a customs official and asked if we could pass through border control without joining the larger line.

He briefly looked at the passports, briefly looked at my family, and said with a broad smile "That's ok. Let's make her Australian for a day."

Now that was laidback and helpful.

And unique.

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About the Author

Addison Holmes moved to Europe to work as an economic researcher with the United Nations. He is now devoted to writing and journalism, mainly in Geneva, Switzerland.

Creative Commons LicenseThis work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

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