That's freedom fries to you, buddy

My new passport just arrived so it turns out that the Post Office actually can deliver the mail to another government agency (see post: the government that works). As expected the photo is really flattering and I fully expect to visit with Barney the sniffing Beagle the next time I go through passport control. How do I know that there is a beagle named Barney that is employed by customs and immigration? I have had the pleasure of spending quality time with Barney and his handlers when I was returning from France. Barney wears a rather dapper bright green jacket that is emblazoned with the words U.S. Customs. His handlers wear government issue dark suits and narrow ties. I was wearing wrinkled and smelly clothing after living out of a duffel bag for five weeks. My mistake was not keeping the ticket stubs to the Air France portion of my trip. I transferred planes at Heathrow and not needing to haul with me the used tickets, I threw them away during my layover. So when I arrived in Seattle and immigration asked where I was coming from and I said France and they said let's see your tickets and I said I didn't have them, and French immigration had not stamped my passport and had just waved me through, so other than a pocket full of Francs, I had no actual proof of having been to France, I got to visit with Barney and his friends.

My next step in trip preparation is to learn Ukrainian, I don't need to be anywhere near able to carry on a conversation, I just want to be able to get on the right train from Kiev to Uman, get a place to sleep, and tell people that I don't actually speak Ukrainian or understand what they are saying to me. Anything beyond that will earn me bonus points with the locals. I have found that making a little effort to learn the language of the place you are traveling to can make a big difference with the reception you get from the people that live there, as can the old fall back of identifying yourself as a Canadian. You, under no circumstances, want to be the florid, short-wearing, camera-toting, American tourist, who believes that everyone understands English if you only speak it loudly enough and add extra EE's to the end of your words. On one of the last days I spent in Paris I was having lunch in a small cafe when in came a middle aged couple matching exactly the above description. Within a few minutes the gentleman was screaming at the waiter: French Fries, I want French Fries, dammit they're from here, French Fries! Now for my part, I was slinking down in my chair hoping that no one would suspect that we were from the same country. I was also trying to send the words "pom frite" psychically to the red-faced gentleman. "pom frite, pom frite,....pleeease, just say pom frite." It didn't work, the florid couple left, probably when they got home they regailed their friends with stories about the ignorant French who didn't even know what french fries were. Now I suspect that the waiter was just yanking their chain since during the course of my stay in Paris I had been told, in perfect english, to "just speak english" so as not to do any more harm to the French language. Also there was a huge outburst of laughter in the cafe after the couple left. The first words that I plan to learn in Ukrainian? French fries. You just need to be prepared.