Journalled on Monday, 26 June 2023 | Flamengo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: 26 °C, hot, sunny and with a bright sky.
Today is Monday, the start of the week, and it’s Federal Police Day for me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep well last night, a recurring problem. I suspect it might be due to anxiety about the upcoming week or my appointment with the federal police.
I didn’t exercise today because of my lack of sleep, even though the seven o’clock class was cancelled. I had some extra time to get things done before heading to Santos Dumont Airport, where the Federal Police station is located.
The interview was arranged for 9.45 a.m., about a fifteen-minute bus ride or five or six minutes by taxi. The idea is to arrive early, just in case. While showering, Claudio, the despachante, called me to say he was already at the airport and that the interview was at 9.15, not 9.45.
So, I quickly got dressed. My rucksack already contained all the necessary papers and more. I caught a taxi in front of my building, and it was just a straight line to the airport, two or three kilometres away. Upon entering the airport, I found the Federal Police Station on the second floor. In Brazil, the second floor is the third floor as it goes: ground floor, first floor, second floor, etc.
Logically, I went up to the second floor, and there was a federal agent behind a stand receiving people and answering enquiries. She kindly directed me to the official federal police station about twenty metres behind me in the other direction.
At that moment, I thought Claudio could be inside the federal police station, advancing my case; I think it was my naivety or that I was plain stupid, because when I went to the counter, two receptionists were taking in people.
I approached politely and introduced myself, informing one woman that I had an appointment scheduled for 9.15. The receptionist in front of me asked me for all my documents. I opened my rucksack and began to take out all the documents I knew were needed.
The tone of the receptionist’s voice suddenly changed to a harsh, impatient one when she asked for proof of payment for the tax required to receive a new copy of my ID. When I informed her that that was with my despachante, she answered abruptly, saying I would have to wait outside in the corridor.
So, why am I mentioning this? And I am not a snowflake! I have often encountered and felt this during my long stay in Brazil. We can also talk about racism and the hypocrisy of people who say that they are not racist when they really are.
The world and modern society are hypocritical, and Brazil is rife with hypocrisy across all levels and classes. Many people think that, as I am a foreigner, a gringo, just the expression gringo is an indirect or veiled insult, that Brazil and Brazilians receive foreigners well and with open arms is not necessarily true.
During my time in Brazil, I have met many kind, hospitable, and genuine people whom I like, love, respect, and deeply admire. But there is also prejudice against foreigners, especially among civil servants or others in positions of power, as if their presence were a threat or even a cause for belittling. It may also reflect a nationalist mentality in which love of one’s country is expressed as hatred of others.
I once lost a pupil from the school because a question in the methodology was misunderstood, and the pupil felt both disrespected and insulted. It was just her misinterpretation that made her feel that way and never come back. It was her loss for interpreting it that way, not the school’s.
The world and its modern society are a pisspot of hypocrisy, where influential people distort, twist, misinform and manipulate reality to serve their own needs and interests. I can honestly say that I do not see the colour of a person’s skin but more their character. Both my ex-wives are black, and if it were not for me, both my daughters would be black too.
I waited in the corridor, and Claudio, my despachante, called to say he was in the café on the other side. I went there, we met, and we returned to the federal police reception, where the other receptionist welcomed us, politely asked us to wait, and said we would be called soon.
Twenty minutes later, I was called to have my photo and fingerprints taken and to provide an electronic signature. The whole process took ten minutes. I did all of this because everything was in order. I waited for my protocol to be completed so I could return in about 40 days to pick up my ID.
So, Claudio and I were waiting outside, talking about people we knew and other things, when a very attractive female federal agent approached us and told us there was a glitch in the system and that we would have to submit the application for my ID online again. Claudio told me that this sometimes happens and that nothing could be done except to do it all again.
The federal agent told Claudio to quickly complete an online application on his mobile phone and to print a hard copy at Loterica (a Brazilian state bank and lottery agency with printing services) on the same floor as the federal police station.
The whole process took about forty minutes for Claudio to complete, and Claudio worked very well to resolve the problem quickly. We presented the new application to the agent, and then I had to go through the process again, including a photo, fingerprints, and an electronic signature.
After an hour, I left Santos Dumont Airport with the protocol for collecting my new Brazilian ID in about 40 days. Despite the fright, everything was resolved, and it was one of the happiest days in a long time. Knowing that you are reaching your goal is always a good feeling.
It was about one p.m. when I left Santos Dumont from the back of the airport, which faces Marina da Gloria. My idea was to walk through the marina, feeling happy with myself for resolving one more problem, while also appreciating the boats I love to see so much and checking for anything new to look at, which is a kind of reward for me.
After the marina, I went over two passerelle footbridges, which allow you to cross Aterro. I caught a bus toward Botafogo/Copacabana, and in twenty minutes, I was home. I got off the bus two or three stops earlier to find medicine for Perola. I went to three or four pet shops; either they did not have the medicine, or it was too expensive.
When I finally arrived home, I called a well-known pet shop in Copacabana that had a reputation for being cheaper than the other places. They had the medicine, and it was much cheaper. They also deliver. In one hour, they delivered the medicine with no stress or confusion.
It has been a good day. I resolved my Brazilian ID and bought Perola’s medicine, which is important for her and the whole family. In the evening, I cracked open a bottle of wine to celebrate.
In bed by 10 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading my blog. Check out my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments.
Richard
