Border crossing agent (serious face): How long will you be in Canada?
Me (normal face): Six days
Agent: Where are you staying tonight?
Me: A campsite north of Vancouver.
Agent: How are you getting there?
Me: By bike.
Agent: Are you traveling with anyone?
Me: No.
Agent: What’s the name of the campsite where you are staying tonight?
Me: I can’t remember but I have a map, I can look it up.
Agent: Can you please?
I get out the map and show her.
Agent: How are you getting there?
Me (unsure face): By bike.
Agent: You know you have to take a ferry.
Me: Uh-huh. Yeah. I knew that.
Agent: So how are you getting to the ferry?
Me: By bike.
Agent: But how are you getting there?
Me: So, I’ll bike through downtown to Stanley Park, cross the Lion’s Gate Bridge, then take Marine Drive.
Agent (softened face): Marine Drive is narrow. Be careful.
Me: I will. Thank you.
Agent (serious face): Pepper spray is an illegal item in Canada. You’ll have to leave that here.
Me: Ok.
Agent: Alright, you can pass through those doors.
Me: Thanks.
Good job, Canada, you made me squirm a little. Really though, I shouldn’t complain. As a white, female U.S. citizen I can usually cross borders without so much as a second glance, which is not the case for much of the world.
Anne Foster 