God is a Brazilian bureaucrat

When you fear for your life, as I did recently during the robbery, you emerge with a new philosophy: don't sweat the small stuff, where "small" means anything other than your life and the life of those closest to you. Sadly, being a mere mortal, it didn't take long before I returned to my default modus operandi, namely "God is in the details" so, please, please do sweat the small stuff. That attitude, in Brazil, is asking for trouble. Take today, for example. We went out to do some chores, using the metro, which meant carrying Sam in his push chair up and down several flights of steps at Trianon-MASP tube station, our local. Is there a lift ? We've looked before but can't find one nor anybody to help direct us. Don't sweat the small stuff, even when your back is hurting.

The chores in question were as follows: 1. Tried to return a netbook bought at a second-hand store on Paulista Avenue (in an area that was raided last week by police cracking down on illegal Chinese merchants. They are illegal because their still-high prices are not Government-sanctioned theft via taxation). The retailer would not reimburse us or replace the netbook but said he would try to find a buyer for us and call us when he did. Sure he will. It cost the equivalent of £350, more than enough to buy a decent new one in other countries, and was bought to replace our stolen netbooks.

2. Find out why our new apartment's cable modem will only work with one wifi device at a time. This is far too hi-tech a problem for the average landlord here and is proving impossible to sort. It's a deficiency which makes our other new luxuries feel not quite as wonderful. Two people, both 21st century internet addicts whose lives are effectively digital, but needing to form an orderly queue to go online.

3. Go to the electricity company office somewhere near Se tube station in order to sign off from our old contract at the Bom Retiro apartment. Why couldn't it be done over the phone or Internet ? Because this is Brazil and, apparently, such things simply cannot ! End or discussion. It needed a physical journey and some waiting and then some live person processing.

4. Walk to the Telefonica office, a huge, cavernous place, and return our modem from the Bom Retiro contract. The modem is laughably, impossibly low-tech and reminiscent of ones we were being given in the UK many moons ago. Nowadays in that country you receive a good broadband modem and usually are told to keep it even when the contract ends, it's just not worth the cost to them of having it returned. But here we must be sure to return this crappy old modem to the company that charged us such a fortune to use the (very slow) Internet. Return it in person of course. As so often in offices and retail outlets here, you see a large number of staff milling around, chatting to each other. We were given a ticket number and told to wait. Where was the LED monitor or electronic voice telling us when our number was up ? Nowhere. Instead we had these staff members walk across and shout out the number. It then took the woman receiving our modem an age to tap all the necessary details into her computer. Don't sweat, Hobert, don't sweat.

5. Back at base camp, we must now regroup and make another visit to our dear old friend Policia Federal, the immigration office, in order to let them know that we have changed address, so that my father-of-a-Brazilian-child visa, which is now in a long probation period, won't be cancelled. Why do we have to go there in person once again and not do it via the phone or Internet ? Because God is a Brazilian bureaucrat.

The silver lining ? One must always strive to find it, however dark the cloud. Well, it gets us out of the house and, most importantly, it gives Sam a big fat taste of humanity, in all it's throbbing, bustling, unvarnished Brazilian reality. And it also gives him plenty of opportunities to watch those fascinating sliding tube doors. Right now, that's all the technology he needs to be happy.

PS: Now that Sam has just taken yet another tumble in our kitchen, I think it's actually safer for him to be out than in. At least in his push chair he can't fall over.

PPS: P has now been told by our former electricity supplier, ElectroPaulo, that they will come to disconnect the supply "on Thursday". She called our former landlady and neighbour to ask if she could be in to receive them but she can't. She can do Tuesday. Call ElectroPaulo again but they can't do any other day except the appointed one. Woman on phone suggests if we don't like it we should call the ombudsman ! (I'm impressed there is such a thing as an ombudsman here). So, totally deaf to P's comments about our situation, the baby, living in different area now, have already paid off our final bill. This company is, I understand, a monopoly. It also charges some of the highest electricity prices in the world. And no doubt it wouldn't be too bothered if we were unable to officially turn off the supply so that they could just keep on charging us. Companies in Brazil really don't like to extract their fangs, do they ?

PPPS: If God really were a Brazilian bureaucrat, I dread to think how long it would take for the Messiah to come (again).