I Do Declare!

Our first international flight on this journey was into Fiji, and when handed blank customs declarations cards, I mindlessly checked 'no no no' to all questions and confidently checked off that the four of us had "nothing to declare." When I gave the cards to M to sign he looked them over and said, "Aren’t we carrying an entire backpack of restricted/illegal substances?" OH yeah....let's get some new forms.

I knew that our second country, New Zealand, was going to be stricter about items allowed in (no fruits, veggies, meat, wood, seeds, etc.), and since I had learned my lesson with Fiji our forms were very thorough. We declared the six months of restricted substances/medicine, our packaged oatmeal and snack bars, and the dirt on our shoes (yes really). All was fine and we passed through customs without any issues.

Our third country was Australia and I was very confident that we'd be just fine, as we had passed the tougher New Zealand customs test already and were declaration pros by now! We conscientiously filled out our forms, answered the customs official's questions, and were then told to "step over here please." That's never a good sign. A young woman, who reminded me of Emmy Rossum in her role as an innocent looking but extremely thorough police officer in "Cold Pursuit" (think Liam Neeson 'Taken in the snow'). Our Australian customs Emmy asked us a series of questions. Did you pack your bags? Do you know the contents? Have you told me everything you need to declare? Are you sure you can’t think of anything else? Are you aware of the penalties of not reporting? It was clear to us by now that she was going to start inspecting our bags, and I started shouting out any possible thing I could think of that we forgot to mention.... SHELLS!! I think the kids picked up seashells and hid them in the cracks of their suitcases. DIRT! Didn’t M play golf and have some used golf balls in his suitcase?! SWIMSUITS! We swam in the ocean and there could be microscopic algae particles! TEA BAGS! Are these considered food?!

After I was exhausted from thinking of any and all potential contraband that may have worked its way into any one of our nine bags over the past two months, she proceeded to unpack every single item from every single bag. She systematically opened each bag, removed every item and laid it out on her long metal counter for all to see, and then she replaced it all (however without the organization or the ability to actually close the suitcase anymore). I watched with equal parts horror (that she may actually find something that would result in a hefty fine and/or imprisonment) and mortification (as we hadn't had a chance to do laundry for a few days and one suitcase was entirely full of dirty clothes). M asked if they inspect everyone's bags, and she explained that they choose randomly, sometimes every XXth person, or at every half-hour mark. Ahh, we were the lucky ones. (Random does seem to happen quite often to us, as those who are, or travel with, a Middle Eastern looking brown man are sure to understand.)

After about 30 minutes the process was over and we were completely embarrassed, relieved and, luckily, not guilty of any infractions. M apologized for the dirty laundry, and we squeezed our bags closed and slinked away in search of the first washing machine we could find.