The American passport has the distinct advantage of being welcome at many places. It's almost embarrassing how Americans can zip through customs while most other people wait on line to be examined. At Rome's airport, I only had to wave my passport to get through. At Taipei's airport, I did not need to open any of my bags while people in front of me got their luggage thoroughly searched. Sometimes I don't know how to react to the disparate treatment different nationalities get at the customs. If people aren't treated differently by the color of their skin, they are certainly treated differently by the color of their passports. When the two don't quite seem to match in some people's mind, they often raise an eyebrow or two. At the border crossing from Russia into Finland, the border guard looked at my passport, looked at me, and said with a little surprise in his tone, "United States of America?" "Yes," I answered flatly. He nodded.
On the other hand, the American passport has the distinct disadvantage of attracting few official looking visas and stamps for documenting one's well-traveledness. Especially for places like Europe, unless you ask, you'd get no stamp (well, maybe one if you are lucky,) in the passport to prove that you have been there. I was particularly anxious to get the Brazilian visa so that I can have one more colorful entry in my passport.
Ed and I went down to the Brazilian Consul in Boston to get the visa. After the routine of getting a number and waiting for a few minutes, we were called. We handed over our passports and our application forms. The guy looked it over briefly and said, "You don't have an address in Rio."
"Well, we are going to stay in a hotel."
"Which hotel?"
"We don't know. We are going to find one when we get there."
"Hmmm ..." he paused.
"Is that a ... a problem?" I asked, finding it difficult to believe that the lack of an address in Rio would be an impediment to our visas.
"... Yes. It's a problem. ... But, it's not a big problem." He thought a little and said, "I want you to do exactly what I tell you to do. ... I want you to go out of here. I want you to take the elevator down and go out." He continued in his unhurried tone, "... Go to the Park Plaza Hotel. There is a concierge there."
This is getting interesting, I thought. He's building things up towards some climax. Ed and I both had big smiles on our faces. We gracefully played along.
"The concierge has a book of all the hotels in Rio. I want you to look through the book and choose a hotel."
So that's the climax. Well, if that's what it takes. "Okay," I nodded. I was now quite amused. If I had my LP guide with me, I could have just pulled out a name.
Just as we were ready to leave and embark on the special mission he set out for us, he stopped us, "wait." He fumbled through some stuff on the desk and found a piece of paper. He started to write something on the back.
I had the feeling that he didn't want us to go any more, so I volunteered, "We can stay at the Sheraton."
"No," he said.
"Well, how about Holiday Inn." I figured every city's got to have a Holiday Inn.
"No." By now, he's done writing. He handed us the little piece of paper and gave further instructions, "I want you to copy this onto your application form."
"We don't need to go to the Park Plaza Hotel?" I wanted to confirm.
"No, you don't have to go."
Copacabana Palace Hotel. Right, that's where we are supposed to stay. Ed and I dutifully copied the three words onto the application forms.
I don't know what he had in mind. Maybe it was a test to see how willingly we submit to his authority and follow his somewhat silly and convoluted instructions. I guess we passed the test with flying colors.
He went on to ask for our student IDs and credit cards, and made copies of everything. For a moment there, I wasn't too sure what the credit cards were for. Oh, well, I am only liable for up to fifty dollars. Then I realized it was used as proof for financial support. The Americans are always worried that someone from a poorer country will get stranded here financially, so we ask for financial guarantees. It's somewhat a moot point in the reverse direction. In this case, showing a credit card sufficed.
Most South American countries don't require visas for Americans. Brazil is the exception. I heard that they were not too happy about how some Brazilians had been treated entering the U.S. I guess invoking the principle of reciprocity, they require visas for Americans. The visa costs nothing, is valid for five years and for multiple entries. To me, it's a mere formality and a hassle. Just another hoop some bureaucrat wants me to jump through. I have to give it to the guy. He was doing a pretty good job at making me and Ed jump through some hoops. I was not at all offended but very much amused. We probably deserved it. After all, the U.S. does make it pretty difficult for other people to get in here. I know. I have been there, on the other side of the door.