Rosalie France: Access all areas

To Customs officers, the Kiwi passport represents the antithesis of evil, corruption and sneaky behaviour. Illustration / NZ Herald

The privilege of holding a New Zealand passport shouldn't be taken for granted, says Rosalie France.

Every time Kiwis travel overseas we do so knowing we're protected by a cloak of invincibility. Because possessing a New Zealand passport is a blessing that goes beyond the right to return home to our safe, free lives in this wonderful country.

It's a document that stamps us as virtuous, honest and above board and we're welcomed with open arms the world over. To Customs officers, the Kiwi passport represents the antithesis of evil, corruption and sneaky behaviour.

In a suspicious world, it's increasingly difficult for citizens of powerful or controversial nations to move about freely. Look at Bond, reduced to eurozone womanising and mooching about in the Highlands. Get Q to make him a biometric Kiwi passport and it'd be poontang in Pyongyang, baccarat with Boko Haram.

Some countries even prefer it to their own. I once had a job interview at Clarence House in London, then home to Prince Charles and family. I was full of nerves approaching the sentry box. More so when the guards, sneering in distaste at their compatriots wandering through the Green Park, switched the focus of their scorn to me. But as soon as I presented my uruwhenua, they positively gushed with welcome and brushed aside my other documentation.

Eschewing PR as a travel job in favour of English language teaching brought more enlightenment. During training, we were cautioned with the Faustian tale of a globetrotting Kiwi ESL teacher who lost his passport (at a rumoured 10 grand a pop) so many times the Department of Internal Affairs finally refused to reissue it. To be fair, the pay is rubbish, compensated for only by the comical students (Ah ...gorgeous Marco from Milan, who wrote "Rosie, you make me wet" on his homework).

There is, however, a certain type of immigration officer who does not like the New Zealand passport one bit. To him it heralds frustration and bewilderment. This is the corrupt border guard who mans the smaller or more remote entry points into a country. He dreads the sight of the uruwhenua because of the Kiwi traveller's absolute obliviousness to the concept of bribery. Any suggestion of an "extra fee" earns an eager and well-informed response. Fearless in the presence of rifles, machine guns or assegai, the Kiwi will enthusiastically take out their smartphone, bring up the page of the relevant embassy and helpfully demonstrate that no extra fee is required.

There's only one time I can remember receiving a negative reaction to my New Zealand passport: arriving in Portsmouth on the Channel car ferry from Cherbourg. I was taken aside by Immigration and questioned closely for some time about the "suspicious" brevity of my trip until it came to light that I didn't actually have a car with me and was let go.

What I inferred from the experience is that so many Kiwis have over the years financed their London OEs through smuggling and selling wholesale amounts of tax-free booze and cigarettes that they've earned us a reputation with UK Sea Customs. Frankly, it all sounds like a lot of time-consuming hard work compared to just losing your passport a couple of times.