Border Crossing Conundrums for Travelers

October 23, 2024

Port au Prince, Haiti, 1999

The forklift driver sticks in his hand and gives the ugly congealment a churn. “For sausage,” he answers. What we’re looking at, it turns out, is a barrel full of intestines — casings bound for some horrible Haitian factory to be stuffed with meat. Why the casings need to be imported while the meat itself is apparently on hand, I can’t say, but somebody found it necessary to pay the shipping costs and customs duties to fly a hundred gallons of intestines from Miami to Port-au-Prince.

THE SEGMENT ABOVE is from a book I’ve been pretending to write. It describes an afternoon several years ago, when I was a cargo pilot for DHL. The setting is the Port au Prince airport in Haiti — a country I’ve never been to.

Oh sure, I’ve flown into to the Port au Prince airport once or twice. But just the same, so far as I’m concerned, seeing that I never set foot outside the terminal, I have not been to Haiti.

The issue here is what, exactly, constitutes a visit to another country. Making that determination can be tricky, and those who travel a lot will sometimes wrestle with this quandary. When your plane stops for refueling or you spend the evening at an airport hotel… does that count?

Where to draw the line is ultimately up to the traveler; it’s more about “feel” than any technical definition of a border crossing. But there should be a certain, if ineffable standard — something along the lines of that you-know-it-when-you-see-it definition of pornography.

According to my own criteria, a passport stamp alone doesn’t cut it. At the very least, a person must spend a token amount of time — though not necessarily an overnight — beyond the airport and its environs. On the pin-studded map that hangs in the dining room of my apartment, there is no pin for Haiti.

Other cases, though, are more subjective. For instance, traveling once between Germany and Hungary, I spent several hours riding a train through Austria. We pulled into Vienna in the middle of the night and sat for six hours. At sunrise we headed out again, trundling across the Austrian countryside toward Budapest. Certain people might consider that enough, but as with Haiti there’s no Austria pin on my map. I saw towns, cars, people… but all through the window of a train, never touching soil. Doesn’t count.

On the other hand, I have been to Liberia. I used to fly a regular route there from Accra, Ghana, and our flights would lay over for a few hours at Liberia’s international airport, known as Roberts Field. One time I hired a driver to take us out for a mini-tour of the nearby area. We never spent the night, but I walked through villages, saw people, took pictures. Liberia gets a pin.

As does Qatar, though I spent a mere three hours in Doha, driving around at night, between flights, on a tour provided by Qatar Airways.

Sometimes the country itself is what muddles things up. Consider the world’s various territories, protectorates, self-governing autonomous regions, occupied lands and quasi-independent nations. Yeah, I know, Vatican City is a sovereign state, politically speaking. But in practical terms, is it really? When I tally up the countries I’ve visited, I can’t bring myself to include it.

And let’s not begin to assess the countless atolls, archipelagos, and assorted tiny islands scattered throughout the oceans. If a citizen of Japan visits Guam, has he been to the United States? In one sense, sure. In another, perhaps more accurate sense, he’s simply been to Guam — neither genuine U.S. turf nor a country unto itself. You can make a similar argument with Bermuda, Tahiti, and elsewhere. And let’s not get started with Tibet, or Palestine. Sometimes, maybe, there is no country.

Together these things can make it impossible to provide a wholly accurate answer when asked how many countries you’ve traveled to. It depends. For me the number is ninety-eight. Or thereabouts.

Of course, that’s only important if you’re the sort who keeps track of such things. Travelers are known to hold “passport parties” upon reaching certain milestones – a 50th, 75th, or 100th country. In the eyes of some, country-counting cheapens the act of travel by emphasizing quantity over quality, but maybe that’s sour grapes.

PHOTOS BY THE AUTHOR

A version of this post originally appeared in the magazine Salon.

OCTOBER 26, 2021

FOR AMERICANS returning home from abroad, few things are more of a hassle than the requirement to get a COVID test. The government mandates that returning citizens be tested within three days of their flight, regardless of which country they’re coming from. Airlines will not let you board without proof of a negative result.

There was talk of eliminating this requirement as of November 8th — the date when foreign citizens will again be granted entry to the U.S. But in fact the rule is getting tougher: if you’re an unvaccinated American, you will now need a test within one day instead of three.

Tracking down a testing location in a foreign country can be challenging. They often aren’t available where you’d most expect them to be: at the airport. Even when they are, hurrying to the airport for a last-minute test hours before departure can be stressful. Before coming home from Dubai not long ago, my friend and I spent half a day traipsing around the city in a taxi. The hotel had given us directions to a facility that turned out to be closed, forcing us to hunt down a different one. Once we found it, the lines were long and the forms and document checks took forever to complete. Then, it took almost 24 hours to receive our results, instead of the promised twelve hours. A little nerve-wracking when you’re flight is leaving the next day.

Traveling back from Colombia a few weeks ago, however, was a whole different experience, thanks to something I didn’t know existed until just prior to leaving home: a CDC and FDA-approved self-testing kit that you carry with you on your trip. You take the test when you need to, and the results are certified through video call supervision.

Initially, CDC stipulations required that a traveler’s COVID test be administered in a laboratory. That changed as of last May, when the approval was given for self-tests that meet certain criteria. At least three companies are now providing this service, selling under the brands BinaxNOW, Ellume, and Qured.

The one I used was Qured. I don’t typically go the route of shameless product plugs, but this time I can’t resist. I can’t say enough about how affordable and convenient this service was.

Author’s photo

It works like this:

First, you order the Qured kit prior to your trip. It costs about $50. It’s a small box containing two do-it-yourself tests and instructions. You then create an account and schedule a video consultation to take place prior to your flight home (within that three-day return window). Throw the kit into your carry-on bag and take it with you.

When the time comes, you assemble your kit and dial in to a video chat. A Qured representative then talks you through the test — it’s a simple nasal swab, which you then place in a tube of solution along with a paper strip — and explains how to photograph and submit the results via email. A short while later you receive a confirmation document, which you’ll show to the airline prior to boarding.

That’s it. The test can be completed in the privacy of your hotel room and takes no more than ten minutes. All you need is WiFi and a phone. I had my email confirmation less than fifteen minutes after the call.

Consumer reviews of BinaxNOW have mentioned long wait times and lack of video call availability, and Ellume was forced to recall a number of kits due to a high number of false positives. Presumably these issues will be ironed out; in the meantime, I had no such problems with Qured. There were slots open pretty much around the clock, and I was able to begin the consultation a few minutes earlier than was scheduled.

It’s really that easy.

Wisely, airlines have begun partnering with these providers, allowing you to order when booking your flight reservations. Check with your carrier to see what’s available. The only potential sticking point is that not all countries allow the importation of medical test kits. CDC advises travelers to “contact authorities at their destination.”

Regardless of what you think of the thee-day test rule, we’re stuck with it for the foreseeable future. Fortunately there’s now an alternative to the hassle of trudging to a clinic or testing center. It’s fast, ultra-convenient, and actually less expensive than what many labs will charge. Frankly, I can’t understand why any traveler wouldn’t take advantage of this.

Related Stories:

A PILOT’S LIFE DURING COVID
COVID CASUALTIES: PREDICTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS