Technically, Switzerland and Holland, but I was only 1 and remember extremely little. My parents were teaching at a Swiss school for a year. After that I wasn’t out of the country again until I was 23, when I did my own year-long stint at an international school in Israel, which added Israel and Egypt to the list. I went to England and France on a camping trip when I was 27 and a couple of camping trips to Canada thereafter. Since then I’ve been to several other countries for pleasure or work. Here’s my complete list:
Cambodia
Canada
Egypt
England
France
Grand Cayman
Greece
Holland
Honduras
Israel
Italy
Jamaica
Mexico
Monaco (on the train only)
Scotland
Spain
Switzerland
Tunisia
Turkey
United States
Vietnam
Wales
First was Canada (Montreal) when I lived in Maine and later from Mass. Then Puerto Rico (I know, I Know).
Then, in a two-year period, (arranged geographically, clockwise):
Morocco, Gibraltar, Portugal, Spain, Andorra, France, England, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Monaco, Liechtenstein, Austria, Italy, (missed San Marino, dammit), Vatican City, Yugoslavia (before the wars and retro-partition), Greece, Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan (changed planes at Amman airport), Jerusalem and other West Bank locations then under Jordanian control - before the '67 War, so I guess I could claim Israel, and Malta. Later by train across Canada. The Conch Republic (Key West) and then there was Provincetown.
My first foreign visit was an overnight trip from suburban Cleveland to the Ontario town of Chatham. My dad has always liked to get in the car and just go for a ride/drive. When I was four or five years old, he decided to take his sister (then about sixteen – she’s closer to my age than to Dad’s) and me across the border.
I’m not sure how much of my memory of this trip is actual versus how much is from subsequent conversations and photo viewings, but I know that there were a bunch of motorcyclists who kept us up all night as they roared past the Chatham Motel while we tried to sleep. There was a small playground on the motel property, and a cute little girl and I spent some time talking and enjoying the swing set. I remember seeing an old Vernors ginger ale delivery truck in a junkyard, and hearing my father explain that some of the cars in Canada had different names (such as Pontiac Parisienne and Laurentian) than did their USA counterparts (Catalina and Bonneville). Also, I didn’t like to sit in the car, so the fact that I “stood all the way to Canada” became family lore. (Hey, it was 1964 or '65 – my dad had just traded in a '59 Chevy station wagon that didn’t even have seatbelts!)
My parents took me to Quebec for vacation when I was 4. When I was 13, we went to Toronto. When I was 18 (three years ago) my dad and I went to northern Michigan for 2 weeks and drove across the U.P to Sault Ste. Marie.
To this day Canada is the only foreign country I’ve been to.
For me it was Ontario, Canada. I think the first time was for a canoe trip, I was either 17 or 18. I went back many times (went to college in Buffalo).
I didn’t rack up my next country until I went to Australia on my honeymoon, and only got my third (Ecuador) last year.
When I was six or so we crossed the border to Tijuana. It was a little overwhelming to a little kid - my mom remembers me being so upset about the little kids who run up to you and beg or try to sell you stuff. “Mom, can’t we just buy something from one of them?”
When I was 9 we did a whirlwind Europe tour that was a great experience - I remember most of that.
U.S.A., to the bustling metropolis of Minot, North Dakota. Don’t know how old I was when I first went - it wasn’t unusual for our family to go across the line for long weekend/shopping trips. Other family trips to South Dakota (yes, we did have a wild and crazy upbringing on the great plains) and California (Mouseland, natch), plus the occasional trip to upstate New York while at law school in eastern Ontario. Also lived in the U.S. for a year during grad school.
One of our dachshunds was a Yankee - from Lignite, N.D.
Since then I’ve been to England, Scotland, Wales, Australia, India, France, and the Republic of Ireland on holidays.
Mexico, when I was…I don’t know, a baby anyway. We have pictures of my dad standing on top of a pyramid at Monte Alban, with me in a baby carrier on his back. I don’t remember it. Well, I’ve been back a number of times since (I have family in DF) and I remember other trips, but I don’t remember that first time.
I was nineteen the first time I went to another country that wasn’t Mexico. (Israel.) Also the first time I visisted another country without my family.
I don’t remember my first “foreign” country, because I would have been 2 at the time. The first country that I remember is not the country of my birth, because at the age of 2 my family moved from Australia to England. However, England wasn’t really foreign. On that trip from Australia to England, we must have stooped at places on the way, but I have no memory of them at all.
The first foreign country that I remember is Egypt, at the age of 9, because our ship back to Australia stopped at the Suez Canal: and Egypt really was foreign. On that trip we also stopped at Aden (now part of the Yemen), India and Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), so I saw a lot of foreigness there.
The first foreign country that I spent a night in (since those earlier ones were just short trips from the ship) was Greece, at the age of 15, when we were travelling back to England via Europe. On that trip we also stopped in Italy, Switzerland and Germany.
I’m sure the US felt extremely foreign to me when I got here. But the first country that felt foreign to me was India, of course, at age 10.
Sometimes I think that’s kind of sad. My own mother country is the one that feels alien to me, while I feel 100% at home in the US. Sometimes it makes me feel happy, too, that my adopted country is a pretty darn nice place to live.
I’ve actually never left the U.S. yet, despite attending college within reasonable drinking-trip distance to Canada. (I miss being able to watch curling on CBC.)
The first time was when I was about 8, and my family went to California, which seemed like an alien culture to those of us from Utah. It was actually later that week when we went accross the border into Tijuana. We crossed the border into Canada a few years later, but the first time I lived in a foreign country was Japan in 1981 to 83.
Since then, I’ve been to a score or so countries, but I still remember Tijuana and realizing that we weren’t in Kansas anymore.
