But now we need more money, having frittered our capital away on things like rent, heating and food. So I phoned the 24-hour banking line.
"Yeah...you need to go into a local branch to do that," I was told.
"No - I set it all up, I just need you to do exactly the same thing again."
"Yeah...you need to go into a local branch to do that."
"But...I live in Canada, that's why I need to send the money internationally. I don't live in the USA. You don't have any branches here."
"Yeah...you need to go into a local branch to do that."
After a few more, similar calls, I dialed our helpful Walnut Creek branch.
"Yeah...you need to go into a local branch to do that."
"No - you're my local branch. I set it all up with you before I left. I just want you to do exactly the same thing again."
"Yeah...but we have to verify your identity."
"But...why would I be sending money to myself again if I wasn't the me who sent money to myself in the first place?"
"... ... yeah ... you need to go into a local branch to do that."
I called Hannah in a very bad mood.
"Looks like we have to spend tomorrow driving to the States," I complained sulkily. There was silence. "Are you still there?"
"Sorry, I was just checking to see where the nearest Target to the border is."
The nearest Target is in Bellingham, WA, and there's a Wells Fargo there too, so at 10am we were on the I-5 and running for the border where (as several signs on the way told us) the wait to cross was 40 minutes. It wasn't too bad - the officer we saw commented on how great the shops in Walnut Creek are.
A nice lady at the bank (a Californian who lives in Vancouver and commutes over the border daily) sorted out all our problems. I asked if there was some way just a phone call could be needed next time, and she gave me a form to fill in and fax. So...if there is a form I can fax to make it happen...why did I have to...? My brain seized up at these thoughts. It was time to do what everyone in the USA does on a rainy afternoon: head for the mall.
There we found Target, and shops like JC Penney that we never went into while in the US but that are comforting just to have around. Then it was on to our true destination, the shining star that forever guides us stateside. Trader Joe's. It was full of Canadians. We bought a lot of cheese.
You don't get any tax-free allowance if you're away from Canada for less than 24 hours and so, like good citizens, we honestly declared everything, only to be waved through regardless. Seems like the paperwork on cheese isn't worth the inspector's time. Unfortunately a quick border crossing led to hours in Vancouver Friday traffic; there's one tunnel that leads to the city, and it was full tonight. Pete had his dinner on a stationary Canadian carriageway, but a return to the land of his birth had obviously done him good and he was bright and cheerful despite most of the day in a car seat.
As for us nonimmigrants it was a strange return, spent in the rural borderlands of the 49th parallel. Perhaps absence makes the heart grow fonder, or just forgetful, and maybe I was expecting the warm climes and ice cream of California to be just over the thin red line. You may be close to Vancouver here but you're in a far corner of the USA. What it really reminded me of was Somerset! Thankfully our English bank doesn't ask for visits to a local branch too often.
The USA, a popular holiday destination.
Are you sure? This is your last chance to turn back.
Yay - Wells Fargo!
Yay - Target!
Yay - Starbucks! Oh, wait, we have those in Canada.
But this is a rare treat.
Mother and baby are doing well.
There and back again. This is the Peace Arch, for which this particular border crossing is named. "Children of a common mother," reads the inscription. That would be the Queen.
