Adventures in Border Crossings
I’ve always loved those photos, you know… of people straddling two countries in the middle of nowhere on a lone road with a weathered sign post or tiny demarcation.
When I was a kid, I read a book about a girl from Maine who crossed the border every weekend to visit her grandmother in a New Brunswick town, where she practiced her French and learned to sew.
It seemed like a lot of fun to be able to spend weekends in another country, and I wished I could do that.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I first moved out here; I’m so close to the border I could practically spend my lunch time in another country, I thought.
I cross the border a lot – once a month at least, and at some point it stopped feeling adventurous.
I go mainly for Trader Joe’s, to stock up on pantry staples, and also to pick up multivitamins.
Occasionally, I’ll go farther south… beyond Everett, but it’s always mostly short afternoon trips.
I usually go with @adjoa, she prefers the Aldergrove crossing; it’s smaller and a little further away but I don’t mind it – it’s a scenic drive with relatively shorter wait times.
We’re regulars; over the years… it’s amazing how much personal details we’ve had to share to be let through, it’s an odd relationship but it gets us moving.
We got stuck in a slow lane one afternoon last November, where they were running one of those ‘trial exercises’, where you had to park your car and go inside.
Inside, we were greeted by a border agent in a cowboy hat who shook our hands and gave us a ‘Welcome to the US’ pamphlet – it felt special, I’d never been officially welcomed to the US.
More pictures from the Aldergrove/Lynden border…
