Obviously, after I’ve spent a whole three weeks Down Under, I will be able to give you a fully informed and exhaustive commentary on every aspect of Australian customs. But, I haven’t been yet and can’t do the in-depth and incisive stuff until I have. Watch this space.
In the meantime and for the avoidance of doubt, this post is actually about the Australian Customs Services. I’ve been googling them and digesting information from my fellow cherished authors (FCA). As a result, I’m worried about getting into the place at all.
My brother-in-law, who is now an Australian citizen and more, and worse, a republican still manages to cling to a few, worthwhile values. So, he’s asked his big sister, aka Mrs M, to bring him some Mars Bars. He claims that Antipodean Mars Bars taste nothing like the real thing. I have a certain sympathy with his cravings and with his assertion that it (whatever that ‘it’ is) isn’t as good there as it was here.
Been there and done that. Long ago, the future Mrs M and I went on a Club 18-30 holiday to Corfu. Six penniless Uni of Embra students. Our companions were two guys and two stunning girls who were targetted by every male they met, except me. Mrs M was, and is, just as stunning as the other two girls and I did not want to spoil a good thing by straying.
Anyhow and moving on, you may not know this but Club 18-30 holidays required you to take the odd drink. On the first night, Mrs M had Greek brandy and ginger beer. She was sick. Night two, she tried Greek brandy and coke. She was sick. Third night, just Greek brandy. She was sick.
So, fourth night, she decided that it had to be the ice in the drinks, which it probably was – the hotel was a total tip. She moved on to white wine instead. The local tipple was Santa Helena. She enjoyed it and I found it quite drinkable. So much so, that we brought some bottles back.
About two weeks later, the six of us had a party to look at our photos and slides – you had to wait that long in those days to get them back from Kodak. Opened the Santa Helena to celebrate the event. We have this word ‘bowfing’ in Jockspeak. It means not very nice. The Greek wine for which we had paid good drachmae in Corfu was utterly ‘bowfing’ in Embra.
You know what I mean. Guiness is OK here but nectar in Dublin. Limoncello is magic in Italy but fails to travel back. Etc, etc, etc. I am sure that you all have less than fond recollections of a memorable holiday delicacy which was totally disgusting in the UK.
None of this would matter except that I have an enquiring mind. Not up to the standard of my own big sister who is an Honours Biochemistry graduate but I share her desire to establish the facts by experimentation. Lest you doubt our genes, you should know that Big Sis played a vital part in developing new flavours for the Lyons Individual Fruit Pie and also knew why nobody could tell Stork from butter in taste trials– they used an Argentinian butter which tasted very like Stork.
So, when I saw the Marmite v Vegemite debate hereon, I felt that I had to know the truth of it. Always been a Marmite fan but had never tried the ‘V’ word. Bought a pot of each and tested them.
The Marmite was superb. A wonderful and complex taste sensation from first to last. Superb consistency and a lustrous, rich colour. Truly a distillation and celebration of all that is best of our country.
The Vegemite was bowfing.
But, in fairness, that could just be the aforementioned ‘there and here’ effect and I felt the need to prove or disprove this. I decided to take the two pots Down Under and repeat the tasting to see if the result would be the same. Thought I could pack them beside the Mars Bars.
That’s where the FCA’s come in. I am assured by them that said Aussie Customs Service do not take kindly to us Poms smuggling our European comestibles into their island. It would seem that, if I do try to take these foodstuffs into Oz, I could end up breaking rocks in a penal colony somewhere outback of Gingganggooliegoolliegooliegooliewatcha or some name like that. I yield to none in my belief that every country should celebrate its past but I do not want to personally re-enact the early history of our former Colony.
Dilemma time. Do I chicken and persuade Mrs M not to deliver the Mars Bars to her beloved sibling? Do I betray the scientific rigour of Big Sis by leaving my pots at home and trying locally purchased varieties instead, in the knowledge that the Marmite will probably be the NZ version and nothing like the real thing?
It’s a worry.
Boadicea's Chariot 
Macka – Australians are very sensitive about anybody bringing food stuff, seeds, fruits, untreated woods or animals into our country, it is the reason why we don’t have the types of diseases prevalent in the rest of the world; think twice before you do it ..
I’m not sure what you can bring in, but be careful, the usual penalty will be a fine of between $200 and $600 Dollars but in some case they’ll just turn you around and send you straight back home.
🙂
As an example, I bought a hand carved chess set on my last trip to Bali; before I could bring it back I had to have it treated with … “Diesel” 😦 apparently it kills wood worms.
Lucky for me I declared everything on my arrival and when they tested the chess set they told me I was lucky not to get a big fine and have the set confiscated … the diesel saved me 🙂
In most supermarkets in Australia, there will be one small shelf marked with a notice proclaiming “Exotic Foreign Foods” or something similar. Here you will, if you’re lucky, find genuinely imported UK Marmite – check the label carefully. Probably next to the Bisto, the mushy peas and the Paxto stuffing.
Never buy Marmite from the normal shelves, for you will be getting either Sanitarium Marmite, NZ Marmite, or “My Mate”, which is supposed to be genuine, but ain’t. Ugh! to all three.
Vegemite has been buggered about by Kraft and now appears in various guises with cheese incorporated – be careful to only purchase the genuine original.
Wiki, of course, pretends to tell you the entire history of both products, but there are many errors perpetrated in order to keep the recipes secret. Just remember that Marmite is shiny, revealing its origin as crankcase oil, whereas Vegemite is matt, exposing its starting point as Kangaroo poo.
Not a lot of people know that. 😀
“exposing its starting point as Kangaroo poop” …, nonesense!!! . 😦
First they feed a wombat some mushrooms dipped in old Ford engine oil and then wait until ….. 🙂
John
Pack whatever you want to bring in your hand luggage – I’m sure you will have the sense to bring in unopened whatever it is… and declare it. There are two possibilities – it will either be taken from you – or you’ll be allowed through with it.
With a real bit of luck you will have to go to a ‘special desk’ to show the items – thus avoiding the rather lengthy queues for the X-Ray machine… which can be a real nightmare after that journey!
Contrary to Donald’s ‘tales of terror’, I often try to bring in flowers or the like so that I can avoid the wretched machine! I bought a beautiful wooden backed piece of embroidery in from China – saved the wait at the X-Ray and all Customs did was look at it… 🙂
I think I will have to get a couple of Mars bars here to take to the UK to see if there really is any difference…
This advice given on condition that we get a full account of the results of your experiments!
Macka – yeah … follow Boadicea’s advice ……Let us know how the full body search went 😦
🙂
I have to say that, having enjoyed the attention of the Aussie Immigration and Customs Services, I will never, ever again moan about the US Immigration controls! 😦
Did they use the “Glove” on yah? … 🙂
No, but there were about six or seven different officials checking passports and visas and customs declarations throughout the immigration hall, and then they X-rayed our luggage twice. American immigration and customs officers are just curt and surly. Aussie ones add rude and unpleasant to the melt, at least the ones I came across at Melbourne
Ah … I see ….. You forgot to include the customary dozen tinnies in your declaration … It’s the norm that when a foreigner lands on our shores they shout every Aussie they meet a couple of free beers … customs officers are always the first … 😦
I hope Macka knows this and is well prepared for the pub shouts 🙂
G’day Donald.
Don’t come the raw prawn with me, mate! I have been boning up on dinkum Aussiespeak and Aussie etiquette and know that shouting only goes on in clubs and pubs and that I will apparently be expected to shout if I walk into a club still wearing my hat.
I see that some of your pollies have tried to ban shouting on the grounds of the increased drinking involved. We have the same kind of miserable, torn-faced politicians here. In our case, Sleekit Slamond is trying to impose a minimum price for alcohol.
Contrary to what you may have heard, we Jocks are a sociable bunch and think nothing of offering to buy a round of drinks, The only difference is that we call it a murmur rather than a shout as we say it very quietly in the hope that nobody hears us.
JM The only difference is that we call it a murmur rather than a shout as we say it very quietly in the hope that nobody hears us.
🙂
OZ
Nah — fair dinkum …I’m telling the truth … ( sort of ) …no word of a lie ( just an entire sentence) 🙂
PS: Aussies don’t wear “Hats” …. they wear “Akubras” 🙂
FEEG
If you must go to Melbourne what do you expect? It’s a miserable hole!
When I first arrived in Oz, I wrote to a friend to say that I’d finally got to Australia and was in Darwin. She told me that Darwin wasn’t Australia – I should go down to Melbourne where they had:
That’s enough to make anyone miserable – it took me four visits to find any ‘fun’ in Melbourne!
In the meantime I was loving Darwin where 16 Celsius was a “Freezing Snap”, where people who wondered what to do threw a party…
… and where Immigration and Customs insisted on stamping my daughter’s passport with a ‘right to remain for a month’ instead of the ten days that she intended to stay when she and my grandson landed without any sort of ‘legal’ visa to enter the country.
I have been here 23 years – I’ve been back to the UK at least 25 times and ‘Overseas’ on a fair few other occasions. I can only speak as I’ve found – I’ve never had a problem with Ozzie Customs or Immigration at any airport – but, then, I’ve only ever come into Australia via Melbourne once – but that’s another story!
“I’ve never had a problem with Ozzie Customs or Immigration at any airport.”
Obviously you were a good citizen and declared a dozen tinnies 🙂
Not, no, never!
6 Long necks maybe? 😦
JM – As Boadicea wrote:-
I’ve never had a problem with Ozzie Customs or Immigration at any airport.
Me neither – Play by the rules – they’re there for a reason, declare everything and you’ll be good, as they say over there. The only ‘problem’ I ever had was when I was presented with a kundu drum in a remote part of Papua New Guinea. I declared it, of course, on return to Brisbane but was informed that the drumskin was from a rare type of goanna (a protected species in Aussie eyes although lunch to PNG villagers) and that it would have to be removed. It was an ancient drum and I mildly protested, to no avail, that the goanna was long since dead and that it would rather spoil the drum. Anyway, when we eventually returned to Blighty I found a West Indian drum maker in Toxteth, Liverpool who replaced it with goatskin, and very fine it again looks too.
On the other hand, I had no trouble with a presentation frame of tropical butterflies. Not my cup of tea, to be honest, but they were factory-farmed and came complete with a quarantine declaration from the PNG Agriculture Department. Perhaps you should take factory-farmed Mars Bars and get a chitty from DEFRA. 🙂
OZ
I bought a bottle of Mezcal in Mexico and they took it off me in Los Angeles even though I declared it; later on I found out it was perfectly legal ….. I got dudded 😦
Don’t try and take your favourite tea, John. A friend of mine used to send packs of PG Tips out to her daughter in OZ. They never arrived. I daresay PG Tips might be available anyway??