Pelicans in the Danube Delta. (Source: Goliath via WikiCommons)
Airports don’t count.
What if, while remaining in the airport during a four hour layover, you purchase a vast array of locally made chotchkies from airport shops, drink a flight of local microbrews, develop a lifelong friendship, moderate an impromptu debate between two aspiring state senators, and tip a piano player at an airport bar who promptly reinvests your generosity into the local economy?
No, airports still don’t count.
What if during the layover, you exit the airport, take a whiff of the jetfuelcarfuel smell outside Arrivals, curse the city for being so foul, turn around, and pass back through security, speaking to nobody and purchasing nothing along the way?
Yes, that counts.
What if the layover is in Las Vegas, and—despite the highly reduced odds of airport gambling— you win big at a McCarran Airport slot machine, big enough in fact that you need to fill out IRS Form W-2G for gambling winnings?
In this case you’ve been to Las Vegas, but not Nevada.
What if you have a connecting flight through the USA, the only country to my knowledge which requires transiting passengers to pass through immigration and customs?
Despite the passport stamp, this doesn’t count unless you meet the jetfuelcarfuel or gambling winnings conditions above.
Isn’t it a sad state of affairs that a smoggy passenger pickup tunnel and gambling counts but developing meaningful airside relationships don’t?
Maybe, but I don’t make the rules.
Territorial waters and pulling into port without debarking don’t count.
What if you take a month-long job on a Croatian oil rig staffed entirely by Croats and operating less than 12 miles off the coast of Croatia, i.e. within the territorial seas of Croatia as defined by the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea? You eat Croatian food, drink Croatian beer, and watch Croatian TV, but the job is run by an Italian company and you arrive to and depart from the oil rig on an Italian helicopter and never step foot on Croatian soil?
Doesn’t count unless you are paid in kuna.
What about sailing down the Danube and anchoring for the night beside the Port of Giurgiulești, a quarter mile strip of riverbank which Moldova swapped for with Ukraine in 2005 to gain marginal access to the open seas in exchange for a short section of road on the other side of the country that dips into Ukraine for 5 miles, a short section of road that, in fact, the Moldovans have ceded only the asphalt of, and not the real property beneath, despite that being a central part of the deal?
Doesn’t count.
What if under the guise of night, a surreptitious local slinks aboard, bringing with her a bountiful feast of local delicacies including but not limited to the popular regional brandy divin, a few bottles of local varietals fetească and busuioacă albă, main dishes such as earthy borș de burechiușe and beautifully juicy tochitură, regional specialities such as Bessarabian mangea and Gagauz shorpa, and a variety of local pickles (murături) to boot?
I wish it counted, but it doesn’t.
What if by moonlight you swim ashore, leaving border guards none the wiser?
Well that certainly counts.
What if while swimming you stop just short of the shore, standing for some time in ankle deep water, taking in the sights and sounds of the International Free Port, but never making the final leap to shore?
That simply cannot count.
What if it had been a particularly snowy winter in the Alps, which led to well-above-average spring snowmelt that in turn lapped at the tippy tops of the cobblestone riverbanks in Vienna and Budapest and Bratislava, such that when you stand in that ankle deep water taking in the sites and sounds of the International Free Port, you are standing in a place that in any other year would have been incontrovertibly dry ground?
You are not there any other year, and so it cannot count.
What if you enter Romanian territory by paddling from the Black Sea up the Saint George Branch of the Danube Delta on a float of locally gathered reeds, gossiping with Dalmatian Pelicans and discussing the relative merits and drawbacks of UNESCO World Heritage status with mallards, but evading any human who would seek to formally accept or deny you entry into Romania? Assuming you never touch a shore and make it all the way to the territorial waters of Serbia, have you been to Romania?
Technically no, but I’m very inclined to give this one to you.
Passing through on a train without stopping doesn’t count.
What if you are on a train that passes through a country and makes a number of local stops that you do not disembark at?
Doesn't count.
What if at one of those stops you hurriedly pass a fistful of low denomination notes from the train window into the hand of an older woman in exchange for three smoked fish filets ostensibly caught from a nearby lake?
Counts.
What if there are no stops but the train gets stuck for two hours.
Doesn’t count.
What if during that two hour delay you participate in an impromptu sing along of regional folk songs led by a gentleman traveling with a 12 string guitar?
Then it counts.
What if it is only a 6 string guitar?
Then it doesn’t count.
What if the only stop the train makes is for officials to come on board to ensure that your transit documents are in order?
Doesn’t count.
What if, when the official is on board and standing beside you in the center aisle of the train car, you reach out and gently brush your left ring finger against the coarse polyester fabric of his forest green suit, and moving your hand downwards alongside the yellow satin ribbon that runs along the leg of his trousers, you meditate on how that particular shade of yellow was chosen by the nation’s founders to represent the sun, wealth, and justice?
This counts.
Driving through usually counts.
What if you are asleep in the passenger seat the entire time?
Marginally counts.
What if, remaining asleep, the driver is pulled over to pay a speeding ticket?
Counts a little more.
What if you are in your car, but your car is on top of a train?
Doesn’t count.
What if the train that your car is on is stopped to ensure proper transit visas?
See above re: touching the uniform.
What if you’re on the 500m stretch of the A365 in Kyrgyzstan where the highway jogs north of the Chuy River into Kazakhstan, and the entire highway is lined with razor wire and signs saying you can not stop?
Doesn’t count.
What if you’re on the 500m stretch of Abbott Drive in Carter Lake, Iowa, which is the primary way to transit between downtown Omaha, Nebraska and Omaha’s airport?
For this to not count, you would need to write and publish a dissenting opinion for Nebraska v. Iowa, 143 U.S. 359 (1892).
What if during that 500m transit of Iowa, a disgruntled pedestrian hurls a freshly Iowa-baked pizza he got from Casey’s near the corner of Abbott and Locust at the side of your car, and when you get out of the car in Omaha the aroma of yeasty bread, oregano, and tomato fills your nostrils?
Then you have undeniably been to Iowa and no dissenting opinion will prove otherwise.
Exclaves count but territories don’t.
What if somehow the only time you’ve been to Canada is the time you and your long lost second cousin went fly fishing on the unnamed island in the unnamed lake on the unnamed island in the unnamed lake on the unnamed island in Lake Yathkyed in Nunavut?
Counts.
What if the only time you’ve been to Uzbekistan is when you honeymooned in So’x, a 85 square mile exclave of Uzbekistan surrounded entirely by Kyrgyzstan and inhabited almost exclusively by ethnic Tajiks?
Still counts.
Have you been to the United Kingdom if you’ve been to Bermuda? Have you been to the United States if you’ve been to Puerto Rico?
No.
Passing below a country doesn’t count.
What if you pass between France and Italy in a hypothetical vehicle tunnel below Monaco?
Doesn’t count.
What if you crab walked through the tunnel on your own volition?
Yes, that counts.
What if you crab walked through the tunnel but only because it was part of a Tiktok Challenge?
In this case it no longer counts.
What if you yourself dig a little tunnel from Monaco into Italy, but never breach the surface in Italy?
Doesn’t count.
What if you breach the surface with your shovel and get a glimpse of the Italian sky but you yourself don’t surface in Italy?
Still doesn’t count.
What if you don’t surface but a bird craps on you?
Still doesn’t count.
What if it’s an Italian Sparrow, the national bird of Italy, that craps on you?
Then it counts, but only if you know in the moment that it is the national bird crapping on you.
Passing overhead doesn’t count.
What if you soar over the tip of a country in a squirrel suit, passing low enough to distinguish typical regional aromas?
Doesn’t count.
What if you get caught in a shrub near the border, tumble to the ground, and walk yourself out of the country.
Of course that counts.
What if you go parachuting in State A and you find yourself off course over State B. Your parachute gets stuck in a tree in State B, and you are left dangling with your feet a mere inches above the ground until a helicopter comes to rescue you, lifting you up and returning you to State A. Have you been to State B?
Certainly not.
What if, while waiting for rescue, you eat a fruit from the tree?
This counts, but only if you drop the fruit pit/core/peel/stem to the ground in State B.
What if, while waiting for rescue, a young man from State B comes to visit and returns to you daily, and you develop a great affection for this man, an affection that matures into love, and though you never touch you are deeply connected and after some time a marriage is conducted, but soon after the marriage you are sadly removed against your will from State B by the aforementioned helicopter which in this case is filled with mercenaries and was commissioned by your family in State A after they saw a snippet of the Tree Wedding covered on the completely insipid “What’s Trending?” bit that plays sometimes at gas pump televisions.
This counts, as long as the wedding officiant’s paperwork is in order. But it also sucks, I’m really sorry your family did that to you.
Thanks for reading,
— Grif