Everything but an Anal Probe for a Garlic Clove
Oh my, its going to be a bit sweary this one. Hearts still beating and now a slight hysterical smile is twisting up my face.
I WAS going to tell you a lovely story of Tom from Jalong, Melbourne who was sat next to me for the thirteen hour journey and (in his seventies) told me about his wife and showed me the diamond and sapphire ring he had bought her in SA- and even though he intermittently farted throughout the trip he was still rather endearing... But I've just had a bit of a shocker with the old customs....
In the airport made a bit of a pal in the shape of Brazilian 24 year old Marina who has married a Kiwi. We had a beer and then separated when we boarded. I actually slept EIGHT hours, had nice food AND watched two films.
Ace & Smug.
As we are about to land the airline plays a video starring none other than the Crocodile Man Steve Irwin (Yoooooou beeeeauty!) who, with the aid of three Beagles (don’t ask) tells the plane about Quarantine Regulations and Fines if you break them - so no pets, food, drugs etc. Easy. Have a bit of a laugh at this and then recommence being excited about BEING IN NEW ZEALAND!!
Get off the plane and as I’m walking down the aisle to passport control I see a bin with Steve Irwin on it and realise only then that the rules apply for NZ as well as Aus (I was on a flight who’s final destination was Sydney.) Have an attack of the paranoias and then remember I have an expensive bottle of balsamic vinegar in my bag. Obviously this is testament to me becoming a tight arse backpacker that I just didn’t leave it in the last hostel but anyway, reluctantly, I leave it in the bin. Marina finds me with a trolley for the bags. We get our bags and are stopped by a big Maori-type Kiwi bloke who looks at our passports and asks if we are travelling together. We say no. Then we hand in our Nothing to Declare cards and go through. Then we are met by 3 different officials who then ask us if we have anything on us to declare. We say no. They ask if we are travelling together. We say no. One of them looks pointedly at the trolley with both of our bags on it. Nervous laugh and explain that we met on the plane. Already starting to feel like a drug lord.
'So yer just 'met' at the airport hey?'
We nod.
'Gate 4'
There were 3 perfectly unused gates that we looked longingly at and then trudged to Gate 4. Custom Officials. It dawned on me they were going to go through our bags. I initially just thought 'Christ, I'll never get all that lot back in again' but it got better....
Marina was sent to one table, and me another. Start to wonder if Marina is actually a drug carrier and therefore as her 'friend' I will end up in the clink. Another MASSIVE Maori type-Kiwi asks if we were travelling together. I wanted to shout in British indignant tones that 'I have never seen this woman in MY life'.
Instead explain that we met on the plane.
'Arr yeah? Lesley. Why are you visiting New Zealand?'
My hands are sweaty.
'Tourist' ('Oh yeah, tourist, sure, and DRUG DEALER isn’t that right Lesley come on, tell us right now or we can sweat this out under a light bulb in a cell'- my imagination heard him say)
'Why were you in Brazil? How long where you in Chile? And Argentina?' I mean would it ever end?
Then he pulls on the rubber gloves. I look startled.
'Yev got one more chance. Anything to declare that might be of a nature we should be concerned about?'
I have a think about any jewellery I might have bought that may have been made from seeds. Then a thought strikes me and I go verrrry red. Shit.
'Ummm, er I bought some, um, erm, pipes in Santiago....' my voice trails off. Wonder if prison lesbianism is as rife as it is on Prisoner Cell Block H.
'Pipes?'
'Um yeah. They’re for gifts, presents...'
'To smoke what exactly? Do you smoke Lesley?'
The honest answer to this is no. I said so. You see the thing is there was some dodgy hippy staying in my hostel in Santiago and he did a buy-one-get-one-free deal. I had four of the things that I was going to post to the respective people whom I knew would enjoy them....
'They aren’t for me'
LAME!! HOW LAME DID I SOUND!!
'What do you smoke with them?'
'I dunno'
'Ah come on Lesley. You can tell me.'
It has to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life as I tell him a dodgy German hippy called 'Baba' aka 'Stephan' sold me them and how I thought the were nice souviniers. Then he puts the pipes down and carries on going through the bags (knickers, bras, all kinds in his big mitts). I hear a sharp intake of breath.
'Soups, Lesley?'
Ah feck. Id forgotten about them at the bottom of my bag.
'And Garlic?'
Dammit, remembered the balsamic vinegar, forgot the 10p Garlic Clove.
Eventually he had gone over the whole rucksack and backpack and had wiped all the interiors for drug testing. He went through the photos id had printed commenting on how pretty Iguazu Falls was, and then took the rucksack and backpack off to be X-rayed!
I mean for fecks sake?!
Eventually I’m allowed to pack my bag again. He reckons I can keep the garlic & soups but I just wanna chuck 'em. He says no they have to go through more customs. I get there and he hands me to two other blokes with my pathetic carrier bag of 5 cup a soups and the garlic. One of the blokes looks in the bag and takes out the garlic-
'Jeez Mel, ya cant be having that through?! Did she declare it??'
Mel said no.
'Miss, ya going have to have a word with another work friend of mine'
Handed over to the millionth person in this harrowing 2 hour experience. But thankfully the last.
'Okay miss. Did you know this garlic was in your bag?'
I confessed that I did not, and that I thought I had thrown all there was to throw in the bin. He looked at me. Then at the garlic like it was in fact a hand grenade.
'This is very serious. I’m entitled to give you a 200-dollar fine. It does not matter that you have never visited this country before. We are very clear. The fine is to stop people being neglectful of this.'
At the end of it all, it was a verbal warning. I was left feeling quite shady and also a bit violated... and none of them seemed at all arsed about the pipes.
The End.
I WAS going to tell you a lovely story of Tom from Jalong, Melbourne who was sat next to me for the thirteen hour journey and (in his seventies) told me about his wife and showed me the diamond and sapphire ring he had bought her in SA- and even though he intermittently farted throughout the trip he was still rather endearing... But I've just had a bit of a shocker with the old customs....
In the airport made a bit of a pal in the shape of Brazilian 24 year old Marina who has married a Kiwi. We had a beer and then separated when we boarded. I actually slept EIGHT hours, had nice food AND watched two films.
Ace & Smug.
As we are about to land the airline plays a video starring none other than the Crocodile Man Steve Irwin (Yoooooou beeeeauty!) who, with the aid of three Beagles (don’t ask) tells the plane about Quarantine Regulations and Fines if you break them - so no pets, food, drugs etc. Easy. Have a bit of a laugh at this and then recommence being excited about BEING IN NEW ZEALAND!!
Get off the plane and as I’m walking down the aisle to passport control I see a bin with Steve Irwin on it and realise only then that the rules apply for NZ as well as Aus (I was on a flight who’s final destination was Sydney.) Have an attack of the paranoias and then remember I have an expensive bottle of balsamic vinegar in my bag. Obviously this is testament to me becoming a tight arse backpacker that I just didn’t leave it in the last hostel but anyway, reluctantly, I leave it in the bin. Marina finds me with a trolley for the bags. We get our bags and are stopped by a big Maori-type Kiwi bloke who looks at our passports and asks if we are travelling together. We say no. Then we hand in our Nothing to Declare cards and go through. Then we are met by 3 different officials who then ask us if we have anything on us to declare. We say no. They ask if we are travelling together. We say no. One of them looks pointedly at the trolley with both of our bags on it. Nervous laugh and explain that we met on the plane. Already starting to feel like a drug lord.
'So yer just 'met' at the airport hey?'
We nod.
'Gate 4'
There were 3 perfectly unused gates that we looked longingly at and then trudged to Gate 4. Custom Officials. It dawned on me they were going to go through our bags. I initially just thought 'Christ, I'll never get all that lot back in again' but it got better....
Marina was sent to one table, and me another. Start to wonder if Marina is actually a drug carrier and therefore as her 'friend' I will end up in the clink. Another MASSIVE Maori type-Kiwi asks if we were travelling together. I wanted to shout in British indignant tones that 'I have never seen this woman in MY life'.
Instead explain that we met on the plane.
'Arr yeah? Lesley. Why are you visiting New Zealand?'
My hands are sweaty.
'Tourist' ('Oh yeah, tourist, sure, and DRUG DEALER isn’t that right Lesley come on, tell us right now or we can sweat this out under a light bulb in a cell'- my imagination heard him say)
'Why were you in Brazil? How long where you in Chile? And Argentina?' I mean would it ever end?
Then he pulls on the rubber gloves. I look startled.
'Yev got one more chance. Anything to declare that might be of a nature we should be concerned about?'
I have a think about any jewellery I might have bought that may have been made from seeds. Then a thought strikes me and I go verrrry red. Shit.
'Ummm, er I bought some, um, erm, pipes in Santiago....' my voice trails off. Wonder if prison lesbianism is as rife as it is on Prisoner Cell Block H.
'Pipes?'
'Um yeah. They’re for gifts, presents...'
'To smoke what exactly? Do you smoke Lesley?'
The honest answer to this is no. I said so. You see the thing is there was some dodgy hippy staying in my hostel in Santiago and he did a buy-one-get-one-free deal. I had four of the things that I was going to post to the respective people whom I knew would enjoy them....
'They aren’t for me'
LAME!! HOW LAME DID I SOUND!!
'What do you smoke with them?'
'I dunno'
'Ah come on Lesley. You can tell me.'
It has to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life as I tell him a dodgy German hippy called 'Baba' aka 'Stephan' sold me them and how I thought the were nice souviniers. Then he puts the pipes down and carries on going through the bags (knickers, bras, all kinds in his big mitts). I hear a sharp intake of breath.
'Soups, Lesley?'
Ah feck. Id forgotten about them at the bottom of my bag.
'And Garlic?'
Dammit, remembered the balsamic vinegar, forgot the 10p Garlic Clove.
Eventually he had gone over the whole rucksack and backpack and had wiped all the interiors for drug testing. He went through the photos id had printed commenting on how pretty Iguazu Falls was, and then took the rucksack and backpack off to be X-rayed!
I mean for fecks sake?!
Eventually I’m allowed to pack my bag again. He reckons I can keep the garlic & soups but I just wanna chuck 'em. He says no they have to go through more customs. I get there and he hands me to two other blokes with my pathetic carrier bag of 5 cup a soups and the garlic. One of the blokes looks in the bag and takes out the garlic-
'Jeez Mel, ya cant be having that through?! Did she declare it??'
Mel said no.
'Miss, ya going have to have a word with another work friend of mine'
Handed over to the millionth person in this harrowing 2 hour experience. But thankfully the last.
'Okay miss. Did you know this garlic was in your bag?'
I confessed that I did not, and that I thought I had thrown all there was to throw in the bin. He looked at me. Then at the garlic like it was in fact a hand grenade.
'This is very serious. I’m entitled to give you a 200-dollar fine. It does not matter that you have never visited this country before. We are very clear. The fine is to stop people being neglectful of this.'
At the end of it all, it was a verbal warning. I was left feeling quite shady and also a bit violated... and none of them seemed at all arsed about the pipes.
The End.
posted by LesAlanos @ 10:32 AM
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