Machines replace humans as passport stamps phased out across Europe

Sometimes they had lots of questions, sometimes they never even looked at you. Ka-chunk, the stamp goes in my passport. Is that... cigarette smoke I can smell?

Why were they so efficient in certain countries and so chaotic in others? Ka-chunk. Merci, gracias, tack, efcharisto. Thanks... for the memories.

Because as of this week (April 10, to be exact), the 29 countries in Europe's Schengen Area have now officially moved to their new Entry/Exit System (EES) for all short-term visitors. If you're using an Australian passport, for instance, you'll now likely not be greeted by a human, but by an automated kiosk that will record your fingerprints and your face. It may then direct you straight to an e-gate for a completely humanless entry, or possibly to a border agent who'll just do a final check. Either way, these countries will never give you a European stamp in your passport again.

The new system is supposed to be convenient and frictionless. You don't need to register in advance for the EES because it's separate from the visa-waiver system that will be introduced later in 2026. And once the EES has taken your biometric data, it keeps it for three years, which in theory makes any visits until then even more streamlined. But I can't help feeling like we're losing something.

We may not always have liked the old immigration system, with its unpredictable border officers demonstrating every European stereotype on the spectrum, but it was certainly real. It's going to cost a lot for Australians to visit this year, with high airfares and other inflationary pressures, and the least they can do is give us an authentic European experience. Surely we want more than just an automated transaction identical at every entry point. We want the romance of Europe. We want that unique human touch. So, if we're not going to find it at the airport, perhaps we need to be more open to finding it during our stay, because after my many years of European travel, these are the moments that remain.

I think of the tour guide at the remote Wouda Pumping Station that I was visiting in the Netherlands, an enormous industrial heritage complex built to reclaim land from water. I was the last visitor for the day, so after our tour, the guide offered to drive me to my hotel, chatting the whole way.

I think about the owner of the family-run Belgrade hotel who took me to his favourite local restaurant for dinner so he could tell me all about why he loves Serbia so much (he didn't even know I was a writer), or the locals at an Irish pub who were so much fun that I almost missed the festival I'd been sent to cover (I even forgot I was a writer).

Or the old woman at the craft market in Vilnius selling little white angels she'd knitted herself. The friend I was travelling with pestered me for some cash so she could buy some. Now, whenever I visit her family home at Christmas, I see them hanging on the tree and remember our trip.

Vilnius, like all the Baltic capitals, seems to have lots of those human touches, the little authentic experiences that stay with you. Perhaps it's because Lithuania gets fewer visitors than the bigger tourist destinations to the west, something to consider when we think about how we can have those special local moments. Maybe simply going to Albania rather than Greece, or Slovenia rather than Croatia, opens us up to more potential.

But even in the countries with lots of tourists, there are ways to feel like we're not one of them. In France, do a walking holiday where you can find yourself... and some small provincial communities. There's no choice but to speak to the villagers when you're stopping to buy lunch or snacks. I once walked for days through France's Dordogne region but a highlight was stumbling upon market day in the small town of Souillac, where the flowers, charcuterie, pastries and bread were lined up in front of the 12th-century church.

You could stop for a night in Italy at a farmstay or join a cooking course for a couple of days in a Tuscan villa. Take the train from Vienna to the town of Zell Am See in summer. Why? Because that's where I met an Austrian guy who taught me to yodel. Or head to the Swedish coastal town of Grebbestad where one of the local fishermen can take you out on their boat to taste oysters.

I make it sound so romantic, don't I? Of course, it's not always like that. People can be rude the whole world over, and I've certainly met my fair share in Europe, like the shopkeeper in Paris who was annoyed I was trying to pay with a large note so gave me all my change in his smallest coins. At the time, it was frustrating. Now, I fondly remember those moments that brought texture to the trip.

We may no longer be getting passport stamps in most of Europe, but we still get to keep our memories as a record of our trip. If you're planning to visit this summer, I hope you come home with many. Remember, you may be greeted by a machine, but there are plenty of humans to welcome you.