Border Crossings

 

My husband and I surveyed the beautiful Inner Harbor in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, a few weeks ago and explored it for hours. We had arrived from our home in Washington state, taking an hour-and-a-half ferry ride across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

An American walking around Victoria feels at home. Many stores and hotels accept U.S. money, though they may return Canadian change. Other differences strike the observer: more recycling, subtle accents, and metric distances and weights.

I once attended a business luncheon in Montreal that showcased economic ties between Canada and the U.S. An American businessman commented on the similarities between the two countries. He didn’t think of Canadians and Americans as all that different, he said.

Mistake, I thought. Canadians generally consider themselves quite different from their neighbors to the south and sometimes resent our taking them for granted. The differences range from stricter control of guns to what they consider as less arrogance in world affairs.

The border that we crossed to reach British Columbia is one of the friendliest in the world. It is still a border. Much has changed since the 1990’s, when I lived in Montreal and would cross on holidays into New York. The agent at the small border post greeted me with a “hello, how are you, ma’am,” and the briefest of glances at my passport. In those days, an American didn’t even need a passport following short stays in Canada.

In 1999, an Algerian,  Ahmed Ressam was arrested coming into the United States from Canada with a trunk of explosives. He later said he planned to bomb the Los Angeles airport. Ressam was arrested at our own point of departure for Victoria—Port Angeles, Washington.

The aura of peace and frontier isolation as one looks from the small town of Port Angeles to the snowy peaks of the Olympics was shattered that day. Now American citizens must have a passport or other enhanced documentation when they return into the United States from Canada.

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