Don’t judge a book by its cover. Or so we’ve always been told… then again, covers can be very informative. Take the picture on the front for instance – is there a gloomy looking house surrounded by a cemetery and a few ominous clouds? Perhaps a man wielding an axe in the shadows? Just guessing, but chances are the book inside won’t be an all-consuming love story.
The same can be said when you are stumbling off a plane at two in the morning. Tired, dazed and caught in that murky netherworld between time zones, there is one reality that you have to face up to pretty quickly – passport control. The cover to any country’s book, I’ve often thought that a country’s immigration officials can be a useful indicator of what to expect when you step out of the airport. Or can they?
Ten years ago, Britain’s immigration officials were all smiles, displaying that well-known politeness the country is famous for. “If you wouldn’t mind showing me your passport, that would be lovely,” one official cooed over the desk at me as I stumbled back from a nightmare of a trip that had involved three flights, one long layover and what had been jet lag 24 hours previously but had already morphed into a form of good-old delirium.
I can remember thinking just how good it was to be back on home turf and how welcome I felt that day. Fast forward ten years – past 9/11 and 7/7 – and it is a whole different story. Yes there’s that veil of polite courtesy, but wait and see what happens to it when you step over the line before it’s your turn, stand too close to the desk, forget to take your hat off, or – worst of all, talk on your phone. And, if you do commit any of these fatal errors, don’t smile. It’s insolent and rude and unlikely to curry any further favour in the light of your misdeed.
The process of getting into many countries has morphed in recent years to the kind of complicated dance you watch popstars bust out on the television and wonder how on earth they ever get it right. Each time you go through customs you try and pick up one more step of the dance any savvy traveller has had to perform in order to keep their nose out of trouble.
Even more confusing is that the steps change depending on which country you are in. “Why you standing so far away, I cannot see you girl, what, you think I bite?” one Greek official laughed at me when I stood where the stand-behind-this-line-or-there’ll-be-trouble spot would have been in the UK. That would have been the point in the choreographed dance where I tripped over and fell on my face on live TV. As it was, I was pretty much nose to nose with him before he smiled, snapped the passport closed and signalled that our little exchange was over.
Somehow, nothing beats the welcome you receive at an island airport. From one side of the globe to another, there’s the easygoing smile and casual glance at the passport that lets you know you are off the mainland and signals the beginning of a slower, more enjoyable pace of things. From the Shetlands to the South Pacific Islands, it’s the same story again and again.
If you’re lucky enough to get to the Seychelles on a business trip (I’ve tried but somehow the bosses never quite agree that business is best done on a beach with a Long Island Iced Tea and a cool flannel, so I’ve had to settle with spending my holidays on their white sandy beaches), you’re guaranteed a welcome that would put most countries to shame.
There’s no grumpy stamping of passports here. After all, it’s a bit hard to stamp a coconut-shaped imprint with a frown on your face. The real treat, however, comes on the way out of the country when they even have the decency to look sad that you’re leaving; not many officials can pull that one off convincingly. But there is something like a step too far. Like when the officials are so laid back that you’re left watching their every move – willing, praying them to work a few iotas faster so you can make it out of the airport before it’s time to turn around and catch your return flight home in three days time.
I always marvel at the more relaxed cultures on the earth – not getting stressed about the little things in life understandably has a great appeal to someone who stresses out if there aren’t enough chocolate sprinkles on her mochachino. But that relaxed attitude can only be appreciated so far. Not that I’m pointing any fingers but anyone who’s experienced the brain-numbing slowness of Dubai’s airport officials will have at least an inkling of what I’m talking about. It takes a certain kind of strength to stand strong in the face of hundreds of passengers’ death-like stares, and I respect them for it.
One specific incident jumps to mind when the official stamping my document was talking to his co-worker behind him. Turns out four weeks later – when I was leaving the country – that he’d forgotten to scan me into the system. Although it might not sound like much apparently it makes you an illegal immigrant, and they don’t take too kindly to those in any country. Two missed flights and 48 hours later, it was sorted out, but I began to think that maybe it’s not so bad for a little bit of stress and urgency to make things tick over properly.
Luckily, it’s not all one extreme or the other. Somewhere in the middle there’re the officials who are neither super efficient nor relaxed to the point of being comatose. Even then there are the airport traditions that strike one as being a bit odd. People who are afraid of dogs might not have a great time at Aussie airports – being confronted by a huge mastiff sniffing you over can be a bit of a daunting experience the first time round, or maybe that’s just me.
And fashion has to get a look in somewhere. When it comes to the immigration style stakes it’s a toss up between the French and Italians. Male or female, they’re nations that can wear a uniform of even the most disgusting colours with panache. The inevitable sniff from the French officials when they hear my stumbling English accent massacring their beautiful language makes me want to plump for the Italians but then again my French is very sniff-able so I can’t really blame them. The Italians on the other hand, well – it’s flattering if not quite appropriate to receive a marriage proposal when you still have your gel eye pack perched on the top of your forehead and the guy behind the desk looks like he just fell out of a Gucci advert.
Of our other European counterparts, Spanish officials are much more amenable to any stumbling attempts at their language you might make. So much so that my few words, which roughly translated as “Yes, I’m here on business” (or so I hope) were met with a torrent of welcomes and tips about must-dos for my spare time in the city – most of which went over my head and left me thinking wistfully about the silent disdain of the Frenchman, which at least I understood.
I could go on: The Swedish were silent but lethally beautiful, Singapore impressively efficient (though don’t you dare chew any gum), the Thai official smiling, even as he whacked a fine on me for overstaying my visa by a day. America is plain petrifying – by the time I finish the ordeal that’s American immigration, I feel guilty of a crime I’d never even dream of committing, much less know what it is.
But really, it’s just a matter of luck. After all, surely there are only so many officials who can give you the stink eye when the first five pages in your passport they turn to are already full? But where can we find them? Laos came close, maybe the Cook Islands? Good luck trying to justify a business trip there. In the end, what I’ve learnt is that all you can do is be yourself. A handy tip is that ‘yourself’ for this purpose should be attentive, faintly smiling (only a midge mind you), not too complimentary or ingratiating (too suspicious), not too nervous (asking for trouble), arrogant, rushed or grumpy and, whatever you do… don’t answer that phone.
About Michael Lebowitz
Michael Lebowitz is the founder and CEO of Big Spaceship, a digital creative agency in Brooklyn, New York.
About the collection
When Michael’s grandfather passed away, the Lebowitz family gathered to go through his belongings. He had been in the Foreign Service and had filled an entire wall of his study with hotel door hangers from his global travels.
About Big Spaceship
Big Spaceship is a digital creative agency. Driven by insight and led by innovation, their work creates the experiences, products, platforms and content that help brands build meaningful and sustainable relationships with consumers. Their approach transcends technologies and outlasts campaigns as they continually find opportunities for brands to facilitate, engage, empower and evolve.
