Purchasing a Car in Canada While On a Tourist Visa

A road trip in North America, sounds fantastic. The tall trees and the wide roads carved through the Canadian Rockies. The trees turning from green, through orange to red, as Fall passes into Winter. The white fields of stretching snow. Viewed from the vantage point of your very own vehicle.

There are other options, of course. Hire a camper, borrow a car, ride a bike - Trans-Canada on a bicycle, anyone? For our family, with the eight of us and all our gear, the best option was to buy a car, and drive across one of the longest countries in the world.

A car is big enough to fit us all in. It gives us options so we can see more places. It has 4WD for driving through mud and snow. It allows us to get to the ferry on Wolfe Island to go shopping.

But there are a few things to be wary of, despite car salesmen, when getting a Car in Canada.

Provinces of Mind

Every car in Canada requires insurance. In British Columbia you purchase insurance and pay for car registration through the one place. In Ontario, you must provide an insurance receipt when registering the car.

Laws vary between the Provinces in Canada. They can vary a lot, in British Columbia I showed my Australian Drivers Licence and registered the car. In Ontario they required me to cancel my Australia licence, be to granted an Ontario licence, to be able to register the car.

It is difficult to find the requirements for registering a vehicle. We didn’t know what they were, or would be. Stumbling through loop-holes taught us about it. So either try and research it, or stumble through the regulations - either way, if you understand that different provinces have different regulations you will be better off than we were.

British Columbia

Our car was obtained in BC. Our Aunty had organised a perfect vehicle for our travels, and despite the looks it is a magnificent steed.

We had winter tires fitted. A service and some important joints fixed and it was ready to be registered.

In British Columbia, the insurance company issues the licence plates, so it is a one stop shop.

No international license. No test. A drivers license, a passport, and address to register the car, and the important papers: payment receipt for the car’s purchase and the transfer papers. Make sure the transfer papers are in order, with the seller’s signature.

You are able to choose how much time to register and insure the car for. 3, 6 or 12 months. It is best to try and register it for the duration of your travels. If you are staying around British Columbia, and not planning to drive across the country, you can choose any period of time and simply renew it when needed.

To renew/extend the registration/insurance, you are required to:

1. Be physically in British Columbia;
2. For the car to be in British Columbia;
3. Have a British Columbia drivers license.

With your car registered, you could take a family trip to Alberta, and see Banff in the Fall. You could explore the mountains and pass back into British Columbia if needed to extend registration and insurance.

We found problems because: we were in another province; Our car was with us; We were not heading back to BC; We didn’t have a British Columbia driver license. It was the perfect storm, and we were unaware.

The insurance company would not renew or extend our insurance. In a panic, we had to find out how to navigate the Ontario car licence system.

Ontario ate my Australian License

Thinking it would be fine to change provinces, and just extend the insurance was my first mistake.

We drove across Canada. It is a long way. We had organised a rental property on Wolfe Island. It was marvellous. While over their our three months of registration ran out. So I called the company, and requested an extension. I didn't have a British Columbia license, and I was not in British Columbia and so we could not renew the insurance, or extend the registration.

The phone operators were matter-of-fact. Not in BC. No BC license. No insurance. No registration.

In a panic I called our [mechanic][http://www.randysislandmechanical.com/]. It was two days before Christmas and the registration payment was just-past due. Randy was too busy and suggested another place on the mainland.

The mechanics took the car between Christmas and New Years, organised the E-Test (Environment Test) and a Safety Test. Both the E-Test and the Safety Test are required before a car can be registered in Ontario.

They did both, between Christmas and New Years. Cost us CAN$800 for a new windshield, fixed rear brakes, a service, and the two tests.

With both of these pieces of paper, and a smile I walked into Service Ontario to register the car. That is when I first found out that I cannot register a car without an Ontario Drivers Licence. What is okay in one provence, is not okay in another.

Drive across town to visit the licensing place - yes, they on other sides of town.

At the licensing place I was told that I could not get an Ontario license without paperwork from Australia explaining my driving history. So I went home distraught, in our roadworthy, but soon-to-be-expired car, and sent off for the licensing information about my Australian driving history.

With three days to spare - the E-Test and Safety test have a motivational date placed on them - the paper arrived. Express posted from home. I took the paper into the licensing place, where they told me “If you want to get the Ontario license, we must take your Australian license, and we’ll send home to cancel it.”

I forfeited my Australian drivers license to get in Ontario drivers license. Considering we were planning on crossing borders, we thought it would be better to go through the hoops, rather than registering the car in a friend’s name, or selling it to use trains to get about.

Bears are Scary, but the Government can take your License

Registering a car in British Columbia is simple. The process is less straight forward in Ontario. Both were worth it for owning a car, and being able to get us all around.

Owning a vehicle comes with all kinds of costs. For me, most of them are unexpected - a breakdown, or replacing bits and pieces. I had never imagined that a cost would involve me cancelling my home license, that I had been tending to since I was 18. I lost a piece of me that day. But I took another step, as I became an international citizen.

Have you had any experience with registering cars in different countries? Were they like this?

Washington DC: How We Saw What We Saw

Getting in and around cities is expensive. I didn’t notice how expensive Washington DC was, because we stayed in a camp site in Virginia, caught a train into the city, and spent $3.00 on a hot dog. Other food, we brought in and we walked everywhere.

As homeschoolers one of our favourite ways to learn is to be engaged in the a real activity. Walking through museums, and being around places that have historical significance is great ways to absorb and to remember.

Washington DC is the capital of the United States. Full of buildings to see, and places to visit. Being in North Carolina for a few weeks, we feel it is a great time to plan a trip, and walk in the city.

We felt like we toured the city cheaply, which was important for our bank account. There are plenty of free things to do, and many places to walk. This is how we saw Washington DC and saved ourselves some money.

Walking. Walking…

Walking is hard work with children of any age. Unless you hike regularly, then everyone will be in for a surprise.

The sun was bright in the clear sky. Warm, the kind of sit-under-the-trees-and-fall-asleep type warm. We exited our train at an early stop, and walked over the bridge to the Lincoln Memorial. The steps were lined with a band, playing marching songs loud and clear, all of them facing towards the Washington Monument.

Washington Monument is the landmark you cannot miss. Tall and central to all the things to see. It makes an excellent beacon from which all walking directions can be made.

After a while those Segways seem like a good idea

Metro. Getting into the City…

We wanted to be cheap and easy. We thought that using the Metro to get into and out of the city would be the best option. Maybe we miscalculated that one…

We camped in Virginia, and parked at the Metro station. Free parking on weekends, $4 a day during the week - and you can pay with the rail pass upon exiting.

$2 for a card. $4.60 for a one way trip. Zeke found a spare card in the trash - cost saving $2. Nathanael had my card from last time I visited with my brother. Saving $2. All up our trip into and out of the city for day one was $70.

Turns out that it would be cheaper for us to pay for parking in the city. $20 a day, and very little cost in gas. We’d just have to drive through a lot of traffic, but we could have time shifted around the rush hours.

Depending on the station you start at, and how many family members you have, using the train could be expensive. It was certainly a relaxing way of getting in and out of Washington DC - so maybe the cost was worth it.

Getting around Washington.

Prioritise

There are so may things to see in Washington DC, but with little legs and long distances we are going to miss many things. We have planned for this. We found the things we wanted to do before and made a list. It has helped us to plan a walking tour, but also rest stops.

A good break for us, was entering a Smithsonian. After our morning walk, we’d enter the museum and take a seat in a cafeteria, eat our snacks and recharge.

Time. And Time Again

The Smithsonian Museums are huge. Fantastically huge. With large displays, that lead on and through stories. Start at the beginning, and it would take more than a day to see everything; to engage in the displays as you make your way around.

We didn’t have that time. Being that we had visited the Monuments, and wandered past the White House in the morning. Arriving after lunch meant that we had to choose what to look at, and select from a short-list things to see.

Natural History Museum things to see: Hope Diamond and the geological display caught our attention. The dinosaurs display was okay, but only because the fossil section was closed (last time that one was fantastic). The mummies and the bugs.

Museum of American History things to see: The original flag of the United States. Joash loved the wars bits: Independence and Civil war areas.

Museum of Air and Space: Wright Brothers display, from bicycles to first flight. Amelia Airhart display was great. Looking at the fighter jets.

Time Management

Managing the time is the most difficult thing. We were keeping in mind the walk to the train, the trip back to the campsite, finding time to cook dinner. And, the fact we were going to do it again the next day.

I found myself saying “come on.” and “hurry up” more than I wanted. We needed to keep on moving, past displays that held our interest, because I was thinking of how much time we had, and what we wanted to go and see.

Little Legs Can’t Get Very Far

I love walking, but little legs don’t think the same. Washington is big, the National Mall is long and with great effort little legs can walk it. The museums are huge, two or three floors of exploration. The first day we walked 13km, and the second was much the same.

Food. Keeping things going

We all need to eat, especially when doing so much walking. There are vendors lining the streets, selling soft pretzels, hot dogs or other assorted foods we don’t eat at home. The prices ranged from $2.50 up to $4.00 for a basic hotdog. Other prices vary depending on what you’d like to buy.

We stocked up on snacks before we started the day. Apples, nuts, granola bars, packets of chips and some hard candies for those times when little legs need some encouragement. We still enjoyed a hotdog, despite our best efforts, super-liminal advertising is still hard to beat. And Joash can get really demanding when he sees food he wants to eat.

All up we spend $20 a day on snacks. Plus the $20 for hotdogs and pretzels.

Dinner was a meagre affair. Pasta and stroganoff - we were glad it was dark, so we didn’t have to see the yellow puddles of oozing fat. Noodles and peanut butter, which was accepted by hungry stomachs, but not much more. Pasta and red sauce, not the fancy kind with mincemeat and onions and bacon and sauce, just pasta and red sauce.

Dinner cost a total of $50. Not too bad for feeding all of us. It wasn’t great food.

Gas

Gas is cheep in the United States. Fantastically cheap. It turns out it would have been cheaper to drive into the city than use public transport. All up we spent $60 in gas to fill the truck to drive from North Carolina to Virginia. Tip, be selective in which states to fill up, because of gas tax.

Cheap.

We saw parts of Washington DC. We read and learned some of the history of America, and looked at the White House, and visited some monuments. We didn’t see everything, and we didn’t touch everything, but we got our worth from what we did see.

Even with a family of eight, a city like Washington DC was fun to explore with not much money to spend.

Road Trip: Deeper Into America (Part 2)

Dear Adventurous Reader,

Maybe “Misadventure” is a misnomer. Unplanned or Unexpected Adventure. Maybe Misunderstood Adventure. I think a different name would be more fitting. Because while adventure can be an unpleasant experience, we certainly had an adventure on our journey from Canada to North Carolina.

Catch up... You can read the first part of our adventure.

The Car Was Fixed

Broken down in Jane Lew, a slow crawl back to Clarksberg and a small time at the dealership had our car fixed - or so we thought.

The car was fixed enough to pass a test and a allow us to drive away. Which was great, because we travelled an hour before the car plummeted into Limp Mode and would not shift above second gear. Again.

Had we paid, we would have been far enough down the road to feel ripped off.

This time, the third time, I was beyond caring. I rolled the window down, and listened to the cars buzz past, honking horns as we enjoyed an afternoon of crawling down the Interstate.

Limp Mode

Limp mode is a terrible mode to drive the Interstate. Back when I was young I drove an 1982 Carola. It was a terrible car, but when I look back on it, there was nothing better for a first car. Small, good on gas, and easy to fix. There were no computers, nothing that could fail, except the car itself.

Driving a hulking Suburban, although it makes us feel as if we are members of the secret police, is not exactly a stress-free experience. If something breaks, or something fails, I cannot fix it (not that I can fix any car). It would seem, that even with tools made from the manufacturer, that mechanics cannot fix it.

So far, the mechanics have all been fantastic. The mechanic in Jane Lew didn’t charge for a morning of inspecting the car and feeling sorry for us. The dealership mechanic simply smiled when he looked into the car - six children crammed in amongst all of our luggage, with the sun shining and heating up. “Don’t worry about it.” He said about the fee, with a slow Southern drawl. “You’re the one in the car.” And he smiled.

Slow and Steady: Frustrated Dad

The mountains in Virginia stretch into the sky. Lined by trees, a brilliant green colour of foliage, against the deep grey rocks behind. The trees are tall, only to be matched by the billboards. The majesty of nature fighting against the might of advertising.

Never far from nature and never far from civilisation.

We are in the middle of two large towns, a long stretch of road winds before us, and the advertising for the next town has already begun. McDonald’s in 13 miles. Chik Fil’a is in 12 miles. New tires in 10 miles. Our choice of gas, 5 miles.

The turnpike pulls off after a long climb, our truck creeps up the long hill, struggling to keep up with the trucks. We roll around a wide bend and onto the next interstate; a change of numbers. Even numbers now as we head eastward for a while.

We pull into a Walmart parking lot. So many spaces for cars, the store is in the middle of the mountains, somewhere along an Interstate in Virginia. Obviously, everyone passing through needs to stop at a Walmart.

The night falls around us. The sun is shining a deep orange, cast behind small clouds, with a yellow glow that stretches across the sky. The trees shine vibrant green; there is a fullness that only spring can bring back to the woods. It feels so alive.

The seasons seem to feel “more” in North America. It could be the colours, or the way that everyone seems to embrace the seasons and change, but there is something tangible about the way the seasons change. Where we are from, the seasons seem “flat” compared to here.

Night falls. The truck continues to crawl. Dusk had a wonderful sunset, among the Appalachians and now bright lights rocket past our slow moving vehicle. The glow of truck lights fill the rear-view mirror before weaving past us. We watch the trucks struggling under their load as they climb the gradients faster than us.

How much longer?

“How much longer?” Such an indeterminable question to answer.

“We’ll probably get there tomorrow.”

Down, and down, a long descent that leaves the Appalachians behind us. It is still dark. My eyes are burning tired, and my shoulders are knotted and tight. The next stop will be for us. Rest.

The next stop was another rest stop. The boys moan, “Not another rest stop…”. Exhausted we pull in, upset about the fact that we will be spending another night in the car.

Somewhere uncomfortable we find some rest. Some of us try and sleep outside, but the cold and damp bring us back into the car. Tired eyes falling under the spell of a fitful and difficult sleep.

Onward and Promises

The next day dawns. Yellow glow stretching over the sky, golden streams pressing in long shafts through the trees. Not a cloud in the sky. There is a coldness in the air that will quickly fade into warm and comforting. A beautiful day outside the car.

Inside the car I stretch. My neck is sore, my eyes sting when they are open. I smell. I smell like my clothes are three days old, and I slept in a car two nights in a row. A camp of teenage boys, who refuse to shower, would not smell this bad.

Rest stops along the Interstate are wonderful. Large buildings, with toilets undercover. Rooms and air-conditioning. Outside a grove of trees create a canopy of shade. There are so many car parks that it could be seven times as busy and it would feel just right.

The car was not as happy inside as the day was outside. Exhausted from long days of driving, and tired of not being somewhere fun, everyone woke with a groan.

Elijah bounced out of the car and asked for cake. Zeke grumbled out of the car and refused the nutritious breakfast (note: pound-cake is not nutritious). We are a few hours away from our destination, and the excitement of being so close make a battle-weary feel a little happier.

We shared pound-cake for breakfast as we looked over the maps to find our way.

Greensboro

We arrive into Greensboro before lunch. We roll out of the car, yellow lines of stink pouring out of the car like an old cartoon. The small and quite neighbourhood doesn’t know what has come upon them. Quiet streets filled, with yelling and noise, as our children make themselves at home.

Little did I know that our car would make it. Travel is often filled with mis-adventure, but that creates the stories that we will later tell. Maybe “Misadventure” is a misnomer, unplanned or unexpected adventure, maybe misunderstood adventure -a different name is more fitting. Because while it was an unpleasant experience, we certainly had an adventure.

Driving at 40 miles and hour, travelling from West Viginia to North Carolina, is one adventure I’d rather not repeat. It is an adventure that we couldn’t avoid - after all being told that a car is “mechanically sound” while it cannot move out of second gear, is a confusing problem to have.

Spring time is upon us. The birds are singing, the trees are green, and the days are getting longer. And, for a while we don’t have to be on the road. All this, mixed with spending time with family, is making up for a difficult drive. Maybe, misadventure is worth it…

Road Trip: Into America (Part 1)

Dear Adventurous Reader,

Today we crossed a border by a car and it still blows my mind. We changed countries inside a vehicle; one country to another. First Canada, and with the engine burbling away from the Customs building, we were in the United States. We have never been able to change countries in a car, so this was a new experience.

One of the difficulties of crossing borders is getting internet access that isn't expensive. We have been using Bell as a phone carrier in Canada (and paying a over CAD$200 a month for it), and there was no way we wanted to use that account in a different country.

To save organising new mobile phone numbers so soon, we have made plans to travel like it is 1990 and use maps. Paper maps. Glorious, and wonderful Paper Maps.

Those Paper Maps

Not Google maps. Not Apple maps. We are talking about those classic, paper maps. The kind that you have to pull over on the side of the road and open up on the hood of the car to be able to read.

We received a stack of maps as a gift from Gramps. A wonderful gift to help us on the road. They show us all the potential adventures we could take on our journey from Canada down southward. The gift that keeps on giving: the roads endless in this big wide world and there are so many places that we want to go.

Oh, and they are used, too. Lovingly used. With bent corners and tiny holes where the folds didn’t crease the same way.

Thanks Gramps, they are magnificent.

Break Down

We drive through Buffalo, with the run down streets and the greasy feeling on the city walls. The outskirts of Buffalo feel different to Canada, more “lived in”, more run down, not as polite. Not so much “the mean streets”, but there was some ineffable feeling of changing countries.

We drive through Pennsylvania. The miles passing below the wheels of our truck. Children looking out the window, or yelling at each other - space is at a minimum in a vehicle. The hills roll away from the interstate, lush and green, and free from snow.

Cars pass us by as we drive on a toll road, and we have to pay coins at a toll booth - the old way. No need to remember a web address to pay $15, or being sent a fine for forgetting to make a payment. We pull in at the toll booth, say “Hello” to the cashier, pay our $3 toll, and move onward.

We drive into West Virginia. Nothing had changed on the Interstate, the same three lanes on our concrete runway. The scenery stops rolling, and starts moving in long drags. Up, through trees that were now closer to the road, and down again. The road is a thin ribbon, weaving through a majestic landscape.

Our car stutters. It temporarily gives out, and engages again. I curse. The speedometer drops, and rises, and drops. A problem. Maybe it is just electrical, we could keep moving, but this car hasn’t given me much comfort in the past few months. Jacqui wakes from a small nap.

“I’d like to find a mechanic…”

Backwater West Virginia

It was 4:45pm when we pull up to the first mechanic we could find. Closing time.

A second mechanic, further down the road, is just about to close. He greets us with a bent eyebrow, a truckers cap, and a strong accent. Having being in our truck as we drove through states without stopping, I had forgotten where we were. We were in the South, and the South caught me by surprise.

After a test drive, and a quick inspection, he says “It looks fine. Mechanically she is fine. If I was you, I’d keep goin’ to North Carolina.”

“But, it is jolting, and not accelerating.” I say. Pleading for some better answers.

“Yeah, but if you stop here it’ll take me three days to find your problem.”

I tell him how much I appreciate his time, and advice, and we head back down the Interstate. The car struggling a little, but driving alright. The sky darkens, night surrounds us, and the trucks speed past.

We decide to stay the night in our car.

Everything Will be Better in the Morning

The day dawns. A lazy, haze of yellow light warms the sky. There are no clouds, only a bright blue canvas that stretches over us, hindered by the trees and the mountains. My neck hurts, and my eyes are heavy.

Outside, the air is fresh. Cold, but not freezing. It is the kind of morning that sings, with a light lilt, “It is going to be a beautiful day.” It is hard to be mad at a broken car, when the morning is like this.

Life awakens within the car. Without much fuss we shuffle about and get back onto the Interstate. The car accelerates, we merge, and start down the wide road until there is a jolt. Like a switch has been hit, the revs shoot up as the transmission selects second gear. I curse. The car starts to roll, it won’t move above 40 miles an hour.

“We’re going to need to stop.” The next exit is right where we need it, at the crest of a short hill. Jane Lew, West Virginia. We have done 10 miles this morning. It is 7am. The sun is still shining, the sky is still blue, and our truck doesn’t want to continue.

The day is ending and the battle has not even started. There is a mechanic, but they won’t open for another hour, so we sit in the cold breeze of a new day dawning, and wait.

Due to fortuitous events we have broken down in a small town with an excellent play area. The children play at the park, for the entire morning, while the mechanic tells us there was nothing wrong with the car. Again.

A broken car with nothing mechanically wrong. “There is a dealership down the road.” He says. “‘Bout 20 miles back north.”

The Blue Roads

The winding, old highways of America are a wonder. Beautiful trees, delighting in the sunlight as they forget the cold chill of winter. Narrow roads, that wind through groves, across rivers, or trickling creeks. Not a single car or truck pass us by, as we crawl past farm houses that sit upon green hills.

We come into Clarksberg, and find a gas station so we can get directions to the dealership. With no internet we have to engage with an actual person to find our destination. And, with some creative interpretation of the directions, scrawled upon a scrap of paper, we find the dealership.

The mechanic looks at me with a crooked eye. “What do you mean the ‘Check Engine’ light is always on?” He asks, drawling words through a cigarette wedged in the corner of his mouth.

“Well.” I say. “We drive the car and it comes on. Always.

One thing fixed and another surfaces. It is a loosing battle with this car, American Engineering is renowned around the world. If it doesn’t kill or destroy, then it will be killed or destroyed. As it is, the Check Engine light was always on.

He shrugs and plugs in the monitoring device. Lights flash, and it beeps. A few clicks on the black box and he vanishes into the shop to find a part. Under the car. Two minutes and pops out. “Drive back out to the road, and up the hill. Follow it around till you get to the first right. Come back here. I’ll have a dart while I wait.”

The car shifted out of second gear, and up the hill. It was working. The children in the back all cheered. We report back to the mechanic who shakes my hand, wishes us well, and sent us on our way.

The car was fixed and we were back on the road. 20 miles behind where we started, but with car that was working.

Sort of.

As the Soggy Bottom Boys sing, I am a Man of Constant Sorrow.

Navigation, but not Adventure Planning

Navigation is so involved in a journey, and yet apart from it. While we can look at a map, and see the roads we will drive, it cannot predict what shall befall us while following those lines.

When I looked at the maps this morning, I was not to know that Jane Lew would become a part of our trip. I was not to know that we would follow the blue road north, doubling back from where we started. I was not to know that Clarksberg McDonalds didn’t have WiFi, or that we would see different places in the South than we had planned.

That misadventure is the wonderful thing about a map. It can show us where to go, but cannot tell us what will happen.

---

You can read part 2 of our Road Trip into America.

Border Crossing into the United States

Dear Adventurous Reader,

We crossed the border, from Canada into the USA. It wasn’t easy, and we had thought by completing a visa waiver would have made it easier. It didn’t.

Interrogation

The interrogation started when we pulled up in our car. He welcomed us, with a stern voice asking questions as fast as a machine gun. "Where are you going tonight?" "Where are you going on this trip?" "Is this your vehicle?" "What are you doing in North Carolina?" "What is your brother's visa status?"

Questions that came so fast, it seemed like I would be wrong if I answered slowly. Every question had an urgency that was not necessary, it was dusk, there were no cars behind us, waiting to enter the U.S.A. Even if there was cars waiting, surely to find out our intentions didn't require the rapid fire approach. He kept asking questions, comparing faces in the car while inspecting our passports.

"You're going to pull up, next to that blue car. Walk on the crossing, into the building and up to the second floor. They will call your name. Your passports will meet you there."

In discussions of our future travels, we have been told not to let our passports out of sight. If they disappear at the border, they will request money to let them go. In this situation, under the watchful and controlling eye, it felt like we couldn't say "no". I felt in no position to request the ability to carry our passports to the second floor, it was not up for discussion.

We took the children from the car, crossed at the crossing, through the building with security guards (with the same stern faces), up the elevator and into a waiting room. There was a man in the waiting room; small glasses, a long beard, flowing clothes, with skin that had seen lots of sun. He sat turning through papers that had scans of finger prints, and photos, waiting to be processed.

Processed. That is the word they used, too. Processed. Like baloney, or cheese slices, we were waiting to be processed, before being accepted.

Our name was called. We were ushered into a room, and another stern-faced man waited for us. He fired questions, just as quickly, but probing further. "Do you have a house back at Australia?" "What about education?" "Is Home school what you did back in Australia?" "Why were you in Canada?" "What were you doing in Canada?" "Was Canada aware that you were staying six months?"

For these he looked directly at Jacquelyn, not acknowledging me at all. Until I needed to go to the car to get more travel documents, "Oh, I'm going to need to see those." Is what he said about seeing our future travel plans. I returned with the documents, and he ignored me for five minutes, while discussing things with his colleagues. He took the papers with no eye contact, and leafed through them.

We Jumped Through Their Hoops

We had applied for a visa waiver. Filling out their forms and paying online, for the eight of us. Surely they can find the answers to questions from there? They know our names, and the location we were going to because filed an application, and paid the fee. We followed the process, and they still felt the need to ask questions. Jacquelyn felt sick to the stomach, and I was confused as to what was happening.

I understand the "need" for strong borders.

Borders define countries. even crossing at Niagara Falls, I could see the difference between Canada and the United States. One was clean, crisp and well looked after, and the other felt like Las Vegas, with neon signs and people walking the streets in hoodies. That small span changed the way it felt to be there, that small span defined the difference.

While borders define counties, they also define ideals. There was an inherent trust coming into Canada. We landed in Vancouver, and we didn't feel uneasy or maligned, and we didn’t feel like were being interrogated. I felt like a human father, crossing into Canada, with his wife and children.

There was no trust and respect when coming into these United States. What were they going to turn us away for, anyway? Because we home school? Because we were in Canada for 6 months? I cannot fathom why they acted like this.

A country needs strong borders if it doesn’t trust visitors. To that end, I have to suppose, that USA has had issues with families of eight visiting relatives - either that, or they were putting on a show, just so they would make it onto our world-famous weblog.

Fine or Fee?

Oh. And before how I said we had been warned about letting our passports go, lest we be charged money? After being grilled, they chap behind the counter charges us US$6 per passport - for some reason he did not explain, and I am still unaware of.

But, when the school bully comes looking for lunch money, you pay the fee instead of being pounded.

Scenic Railway to Kuranda

Dear Adventurous Reader,

An old railway runs from Cairns up into the mountains beyond. A railway constructed by the labor of many men, facing hardship and death everyday. Today we took the easy path and paid money for the train ride to the small town of Kuranda.

We love trains and railways. All of us like old railways with a story to tell, especially one of hard work, of toil and men of the past shaping a peaceful path through a treacherous mountain. Before the steam engine could make the journey, men went before to forge the path. Pick axes and dynamite used to blast and hack their way through the difficult terrain.

Today engineering is a different feat, we have made it easier for ourselves. In the days of old paths were created on the sweat and shoulders of people who would dare to prove what seemed impassable was not.

There are 15 tunnels hewn from the mountain side, the longest 490 meters. There are many bridges spanning gaps small to large. One bridge is built on one of the two switch backs where you can see the engines pulling up front and the last carriage following behind.

The train slows down on one switchback as it passes a large waterfall. People move from one side of the train to the other, making sure to take a photo or to store an image in their mind. The rain from a few nights ago not going to waste with the magnificent scenery.

The Kuranda Scenic Railway has a video that displays photos at opportune story moments, telling us the tale of the railway's creation. It is neither loud or annoying, often times the children's excited voices drown out the words it speaks to us. It tells tales of wonder and explains magnificent views.

Tourist Town in the Mountains

We pull into Kuranda. The station is surrounded by wonderful green trees and large flowers. There are some steps leading toward the town which we follow.

Kuranda reminds us if Sorento, across the bay from where we live. The prices at the shops also remind is of Sorento. The town seems to run on the tourist dollars that arrive, there are many indigenous, new-age and specialty stores along the street, all catering to the whim of someone looking for a bargain or for a memory.

We walked into the rock candy store, just standing inside that place made your teeth start to decay. There were so many colours and flavours of rock candy to choose from, with a video to demonstrate how it was made. We put that on the list of places to visit on the journey back towards the train.

We ate a cheap lunch of Nutella on bread. We took a brief stroll though the rainforest before rushing back towards the train for the ride home. We spent more time sitting on the train than wandering the streets of Kuranda, although if we had more time we would have walked the rainforest instead of finding shops to take our money.

Down Again

Back down the mountain, making the slow trip with the train again. The same video played but reversed the explanation points. The boys hopped between seats trying to find the best view as the train slowed at important sections, once again. Adeline had the afternoon sleep she had been fighting since lunch.

Kuranda Scenic Railway was a slow ride through some beautiful scenery. We loved the idea of seeing that part of the world by train, in old style carriages, going slowly up the mountain to see the views of Cairns and the forests below.