The fiasco we have just watched at the Australian border, as World Number One tennis champion and renowned vaccine sceptic Novak Djokovic had his visa cancelled on entry, only to have it reinstated by the courts, has captivated the world for a few days.
Outside Serbia, where he is a deity, Djokovic is wildly unpopular for his personal stand against vaccines. The visa exemption he was granted to enter Australia exploited a loophole - it’s for people who are unable to get vaccinated, not those who choose not to - but clumsy handling by border control meant he ended up looking like a victim.
The saga has been discussed at length. And it’s ongoing, even though we have other more pressing things to think about.
One takeout is that if you’re privileged and wealthy and the profitability of a major sporting event is dependent on your appearance, rules can be sidestepped, even when you’re personally unpopular and political leaders want to serve you a backhand for their own gain.
If you’re an asylum seeker in Australia, not so much.
For most of us mere mortals, especially frequent travellers, borders and border agents are a fact of life.
I never approach an immigration officer without my heart in my throat. They wield tremendous power behind that Plexiglass screen.
The Djokovic Incident (movie title alert) reinforces the fact most travellers have to accept when entering a country, famous or not: Entry is dependent on the decision of the officials at the border.
The guy/gal who stamps your passport is the one you have to please.
If you’re travelling as a tourist, visas are fairly easy to get online these days. In many cases, as with Schengen countries, the visa is issued on arrival. Tourists usually breeze through, provided they have the right passport.
But never assume it’s going to be granted. If your reason for travel is other than tourism, even more so.
I’ve sometimes had a fractious relationship with border agents. Sometimes they’re in a bad mood. Often they’re overworked. And sometimes they are wrong about the law.
Really.
I lived in New York on an ‘I’ visa for many years. That’s the visa granted to foreign media by the US government. One year, returning alone from a trip to Australia, the border agent at LAX scrutinised my passport and asked me the usual questions about the purpose of my travel.
When I told him I was living in the US as a foreign correspondent, he looked at me sternly and announced he was denying me entry. I was stunned. I’d been in and out of the country many times, and I’d never had any kind of problem, although I was always questioned carefully.
‘You can’t live here on this kind of visa,’ he said. ‘It’s only for short-term visits, like covering the Olympic Games.’
He was wrong. It’s a resident visa. But I was wary of saying this point blank. He had the power to detain me, which I could fight, but it might be costly and I’d be held in solitary for an unknown length of time while it was sorted.
I had a friend who’d been travelling back to the US with her baby on a temporary green card, as her original had been stolen with her handbag in Australia, and the officials in LAX locked her up for hours while they examined it, without any recourse to call anyone, with no food or nappies for the baby. When the child cried, they came in and asked the baby to ‘shut the F up.’
This was running though my mind as I was contemplating what to do. The advice of a lawyer friend in New York was also front of mind. ‘If you ever get stopped at the border, insist on entering, even if it means being held in detention. You can then hire a lawyer to get you out quickly.’ Many of my friends had immigration lawyers on speed dial.
My husband and daughter were in New York. We set up a life there, rented an apartment, even had a cat. So it was critical I was allowed in.
I didn’t challenge the officer. I played dumb. I told him I’d been in and out a few times lately and this was the first I’d heard of it. I was very surprised to hear what he had to say, I said, wide-eyed. When I got to New York, I’d make sure I saw a lawyer about it.
I looked at him for a moment, steadily. He frowned at me. Then he handed me back my passport. ‘You make sure you do that,’ he said.
Phew.
( I didn’t need to see that lawyer. My visa was correct.)
I was struck by the transcript of Djokovic’s conversation with border force on the morning of January 6. He was unfailingly polite. Every international traveller knows you don’t mess with these guys.
If you want to avoid a Djoker style stand-off at the border, here are some ideas:
Be two-coffee awake when you approach the immigration counter. (Tough after a 20-hour flight, I know.) Don’t draw attention to yourself, although I had a friend who swore wearing a hat won her more respect and faster processing.
Be polite. Drop the swagger.
Make sure you have all your documents with you, including flight itinerary and hotel reservation. You may very well be asked for them. These days, you need all the vaccination certificates and tests too. Don’t be shambolic - have them in a neat folder.
Check that your name on all your documents matches your passport exactly. I’ve had delays due to my name being printed LEEANN instead of LEE ANN.
Don’t immediately react if there looks as if there’s been an issue. Most times it’s absolutely nothing. If they go away to confer with another agent, it might be that they’re new on the job and are checking some procedure. They also might be working out when to have a tea break.
Think about what profession you put on your immigration form. I’m not advocating being dishonest, but some professions are more ‘sensitive’ than others. In my experience ‘author’ (which I am) is rarely questioned but ‘journalist’ creates all kind of headaches.
Finally - get vaccinated
Every traveller has a border story. I’d love to hear yours.
Before we leave Djokovic at the border, please give some thought to the asylum seekers held in the Park Hotel, where the tennis star was briefly detained. There are a number of groups supporting and advocating for them, including the ASRC.
Customs officer, Lisbon Airport, to Terry, sternly: What is the purpose of your visit? Terry: To find the best pasteis de nata in Lisbon. Customs officer: Here, I'll write down the address, these are the best.
Such great advice.