How many ears does it take to renew a Canadian Passport?

Those of you who have read my two previous posts:

• The Canadian Passport Blues
• Canadian Passport Blues Revisited

will know of my Love Affair with the Canadian Embassy in Tel Aviv. But, as with many relationships which seem so simple at first, things have become complex over the years. And the chief culprit in complicating this relationship is the Canadian Passport Photo, which caught us all by surprise when the new photo requirements were released many years ago. Take a look at how complex they have become:

Photo Requirements

• required height and width of photo and height and width of face in photo
• be clear, sharp and in focus
• show a neutral facial expression (no smiling, mouth closed) and look straight into the camera with eyes open and clearly visible
• have uniform lighting - no shadows, glare or flash reflections
• show a full front view of the face and top of the shoulders squared to the camera (face and shoulders centered in the photo, head not tilted or turned)
• reflect natural skin tone and be taken against a plain white or light-coloured background with enough contrast between the background facial features and clothing, so that your features appear clearly in the background.
• be originals that have not been altered in any way and not taken from an existing photo;
• be taken within the last six months from the date the application is submitted and reflect your current appearance

There is more, but I don't want to lose you, if I haven't already.

Shorty after the new photo requirements came out, so long ago, my son had his Canadian Passport photo taken in Beer Sheva. I took his filled out and signed application form together with the photos to the consular section of the Canadian Embassy in Tel Aviv. As usual, I started passing the form, pictures and cash through the protected window apparatus (back then you could still pay in cash). 

"Whoa," the consular official said, "Not so quickly."

That was when everything sacred about our relationship changed.

"Your son's mouth isn't closed."

I had no idea what he was talking about.

"It looks closed to me," I said, "and he isn't smiling."

"There is a small gap between his lips. You will have to get new photos taken."

Taken again? And then back again from the Negev, leaving very early on a Friday morning to beat the lineup? And still not sure that the new pictures will meet all of the requirements?

"I can hardly see the gap," I said, Canadian to Canadian which is supposed to mean something.

"There is nothing I can do," the official said, "I can't accept them now, knowing that they will be rejected in the end."

So I took the pictures back and gave them to my son, explaining the problem. He took them back to the photo shop where they had been taken.  This time when I took them back to Tel Aviv, they were accepted.

After this traumatic surprise, and with the date of my passport renewal and my daughter's passport renewal approaching quickly, I turned to my Israeli English Teachers group, asking for the name of a photo shop which already knows how to successfully take a Canadian Passport photo on the first try. I was sent the name and address of Photo Zion in Renaana and was told that the consulate unofficially recommended this photo shop. Since then, over the years, I have made a number of trips to Renaana (a two and a half hour drive, one way) to get a Canadian passport photo taken. A long way to drive, I know, but worth it for peace of mind.

Now, let's move to the present. Over ten years have passed since my first trip to Renaana for this purpose. I figured that, by now, there must be at least one photo shop in Beer Sheva that knows how to take a Canadian Passport photo. So I put out feelers to a number of facebook groups where Canadian expats were lurking and requested any info that someone might have about a photo shop in Beer Sheva that knows how to take Canadian Passport photos. Someone recommended Photo Life in Beer Sheva, stating that they knew how to do this. Buoyed by new hope, I set out for Beer Sheva. The Russian at the store - let's call him Boris - said that he knew how to do this. I am used to the photographer taking a number of photos, making sure that he got everything correct and then showing me the final photo for my approval. But, exuding confidence, he appeared satisfied with the first picture taken and then set about setting it up for printing. I was then given the two photos. Everything, in the long list of requirements, was apparently correct and I was ready to make the two hour drive to the Canadian Embassy.

Adva told me that she would go with me to provide moral support. We left early on a Friday morning and were at the consulate at 07:35. (It opened at 08:00 and I was already the third in line.)

"If the photos turn out okay," I told her, "I will make the Photo Life photo shop famous. I will let everyone know in the relevant facebook groups that this is the place to go in the Beer Sheva region."

"Why wouldn't everything be okay?" Adva remarked, the eternal optimist.

"Why are you taking your computer?"

"Oh, just in case it takes longer than expected." (Maybe she wasn't as optimistic as I thought.)

I am a natural worrier, but I did feel that everything was on board this time.
Pushing through my Adult Abroad Simplified Passport Application to the other side of the window, I followed with the photos. The consular official momentarily placed the photos aside and went through the form to make sure that all was there. She then went back to the photos.
"Just a second. I have to check something," she said, leaving with one of the photos. After a few minutes, she came back. "The automatic photo check is not up, but I see a problem with the photo."
That is when my stomach fell and the trauma returned.
"You are not totally squared to the camera."
"I'm not?" It looked kosher to me.
And then it came, after worrying all about smiling, mouth closed, proper contrast and measurements...
"I can only see one of your ears," she said.
Ears? When did ears enter the equation?
"They won't accept it," she said, "you will have to have it taken again. You should be able to have it taken for free at the same photo shop."
I carefully studied the photo.
"There," I said, "I see a part of the missing ear."
"That's just a little dust on the picture."
"No, I really think that is an ear."
She did me the favour of peering over at the photo again.
"Even if it is, we need to see both ears equally."
(You can see the passport photo at the top of this page.)
I began to wonder whether they keep making these things up. The idea of going back to Beer Sheva to get the photo taken again and waiting until next Friday to see if it was now okay was too much for me. I also was not in the mood to bring all this back to Boris at Photo Life.  I don't do well with Russian authority figures. Check out my blog on this subject: You want to leave Moskva!
"Is there a place nearby where I can have the photo taken? Where they really know what they are doing?"
"Yes, at the other entrance to the building. They are good, but expensive."
"No matter. I am not leaving Tel Aviv today until everything is done."
She put everything into an envelope with the Consular Section address stamped on it.
"You can put the new photos into this envelope and drop it into the Consular Section box."
"No, I will come back with them this morning to make sure that they will be accepted this time."
When I returned with the photos, I was directed to another consular official. I told her the story and she authorized the new photos and continued processing my request.
"What's wrong with these photos," she asked, referring to the old photos as she took the documents out of the envelope.
"The other official said it is not squared properly. You can only see one ear."
"Oh. Okay," she said.

So that is it. I am not setting out to make Photo Life famous among us Southerners. And if you are eligible for the Adult Abroad Simplified Passport Application, which most of you should be, then I suggest that when everything is ready, you go and have your photo taken at the place by the Canadian Embassy and submit your application directly after that. Take into account, though, that it costs 80 shekel to have the photo taken there. (It cost 29 shekel at Photo Life, but then, they weren't worth anything in the end.)

I am sure that other Canadians would be most interested in hearing about your own experiences in this matter and tips for survival. I know that I would.

The Canadian Passport Blues

I've got the blues and they're definitely Canadian.

This all started with the realization that I will soon have to apply for a new Canadian passport. One wouldn't think that this should cause too much anxiety, and it didn't, until fairly recently.

There was a time, when the Canadian Embassy was still on Hayarkon Street by the Mediterranean Sea, that getting a new passport was quite a simple affair. There was a simple form to fill out and the photo could be taken almost anywhere. I remember walking into the embassy and informing the person at the desk that I had come to apply for a new passport. She phoned upstairs and soon a kind elderly lady appeared. We sat down on two comfortable chairs and she went over my application. She seemed surprised that everything was filled out so properly, as she said most people were always missing things. But she didn't realize that an OCD like me would have gone over the form countless times before submitting it, even then sneaking a few peeks at the completed form on the way to the Embassy.

So, I didn't expect any problems when I helped my son apply for his first Canadian passport many years later. After helping him fill out the form, I printed out the photo instructions, which had now become quite detailed and were only in English, and told him to go over them with the photographer at the photo studio in Beer Sheva. When he brought the photos to me, I checked them and everything looked alright. Armed with the completed form, guarantor signature and photos, I headed out for the long two and a half hour journey to Tel Aviv. By now the embassy had left its cosy location by the sea and was perched high above in a sterile, modern building close by the Nokia (Yad Eliyahu) Arena. Gone were the comfortable chairs and friendly lady, and instead I was ushered into a small, bare room where a rather stern and haggard individual stared at me from the other side of a heavy glass window. He motioned to a small turntable in front of me. I placed the form and photos there and he swung them over to his side. He barely glanced at the form, as he went directly for the photos. By this time I was pulling out the money for payment, still totally unaware as to what was to come.

"Not so fast," he said.

"What?" I asked, looking up, just a little perturbed by the ominous sound of his voice.

"These are no good," he said, shoving the photos back onto the turntable and swinging them back to me.

I had never suffered rejection before from a Canadian official (from Israeli, yes, many times), so my response was one of surprise and consternation.

"Why not?" I asked feebly, picking up the photo and scrutinizing it again. I knew the measurements were right. There were no shadows to be seen. Noam wasn't smiling. His profile was facing straight at the camera, totally in focus. The photo paper was right, and there was a clear white background. What was I missing?

"His mouth isn't closed," he said.

"What?"

The man gestured to the photo. I looked back down at it.

"It looks closed to me," I said.

"His lips aren't together."

I looked at the photo again. There was the slightest gap between his upper and lower lip, just enough to let him breathe. I shook my head and looked up at him with a beseeching look, thinking back to the long journey there.

"You're rejecting it just because of that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

"Yes," he said, "It's my job to be sure that everything is in order. I know that they won't accept this, so there's no point in my accepting it."

My Israeli side urged me to stand up and scream, but I told myself that he was just doing his job, and being the good Canadian I was, I packed up my things and left. I stopped short of telling him I was sorry, though.  My Israeli side just wouldn't allow me to become that Canadian again.

So my son went through the whole photo taking process again and brought me back the new photo. This time his lips were so closely pressed together that it looked as if they were stuck together with super glue. But the embassy accepted the new photo and that was all that was important.

Wondering if others had gone through a similar experience, or if they were just picking on me (did I mention paranoia in addition to my OCD?), I checked the forums where I discovered tales of  faint ghostly shadows visible only to passport personnel, profiles slightly off centre, and philosophical discussions about what constituted a smile (Mona Lisa definitely would have never been awarded a Canadian passport). If I had thought this was solely an expat issue, I soon discovered that even people who had their passport photos taken by reputable photo studios in Canada, had had their photos rejected. There was even a well-known Canadian photo chain which promised to take your passport photos again for free if they were rejected by the passport office. Note that they didn't guarantee getting it right the first time.

So, a year later when it was time to apply for a new passport for myself, I was understandably on edge. I don't handle rejection well, and wasn't sure I could go through it again. So I decided to write my English Teachers network mailing list, asking if anyone knew of a photography studio in the south of Israel that could take a proper Canadian passport photo. I didn't get any suggestions at first, but I did receive a slew of passport horror stories. One man even had to have his passport photo taken five times in Beer Sheva until it was finally accepted at the Canadian embassy. And then finally someone told me about a small photo studio in Raanana that was recommended to her by a friend at the embassy. Raanana is close to a three hour drive from my home in the desert, and  you may think me crazy to even consider driving all the way there for a passport photo, but I didn't have to be told twice.

Why do they do this to us then? Why do Canadians, who are generally thought to be polite, apologetic and down to earth – adopt such bureaucracy? Getting an Israeli passport is a much simpler process, even though Israeli security concerns are much greater. Are the Mounties behind all this?

I guess I shouldn't underestimate parted lips and a smile. You never know where they will lead. And it could be much worse, as in the case of my grandniece, who had to get a passport when she wasn't even one month old. My nephew and his wife were taking her with them to his brother's wedding in Chicago. And they had to get the passport process expedited in order to get to the wedding on time. Look at the advice given by a baby site, regarding the taking of the passport photo:

"Your baby can't sit up let alone keep her mouth closed and eyes open on demand. Passport Canada requires a full front view of your baby's head and shoulders but your hands or arms may not be seen. Try dressing your baby in a sweater so you can crouch below her out of frame and hold her up with your hand under her clothes. Another suggestion is to lay your baby on a large piece of white paper and have the photographer stand on a stool and take the picture from above."

-- babycenter: http://www.babycenter.ca/baby/travel/passport/#6 --

Are you still with me, or have you turned to drink? There was mention, though, that Passport Canada might be somewhat lenient regarding the expression of a newborn. Whew! At least that. And just when we thought that it couldn't get any worse, they were informed that the expedition process would take an extra day. Why? Now put your glass back down and get ready for this… the passport office had to perform a security check on the less than one month old baby. (And we bad-mouth the Americans.)

Anyway, I had hoped that my talking about this would lessen the anxiety. But no, I can still sense it eating away, fueled by the image of a stern official studying my photo with disdain. Maybe I should just travel on my Israeli passport, eh?